And potions usually seem to be the way better living, or eternal life is chased after. But not always. Consider Ted Williams, the Hall-of-Fame Red Sox player whose head is being preserved in a deep freeze, cryo-life belief that when it is learned how to reverse death, Ted will be back.
Ted's son did this to him after the great slugger died. The raging family conflict is over if this was dad's wishes. Certainly to be continued, but we can be grateful that no one issues baseball cards for players' likenesses after they've left the game. A macabre Halloween present has thus not reached the local CVS.
I have to say, I never heard of someone who thought that death's inevitability could be forestalled, or even put on permanent hold by the design of living spaces. But Madeline Arakawa Gins apparently did, who with her husband built some very odd buildings. Not having followed architectural trends, Ms. Gins thoughts are totally new to me. But the fact that her husband died in 2010, and that she has now passed away from cancer at 72 makes me think someone has to get back to the drawing board.
Ms Gins obituary is quite revealing about how her beliefs in non-conforming living spaces could impart everlasting life. The descriptions of the non-conformity of these spaces is incredible, and can be found in Margalit Fox's obituary of Ms. Gans. It sounds like you're living at F.A.O. Schwarz. The fact that some of these buildings were actually built is a testament that her beliefs came backed by someone's money. Vacancy rates are not, however, disclosed.
One of my uncles, who was born in Manhattan in 1916 told me the story that somehow October 1st was 'moving day' in New York City. Whenever someone's lease was up on September 30th, they were out there moving into a new apartment on October 1st.
Apparently this came to be because the leases were printed by a printing company that specialized in legal papers and had October 1st pre-printed on the form as the effective date of the standard lease. (Premises need to be left broom clean.) The date could be crossed out and replaced by another date, but often wasn't. Thus, there were a bunch of people who were always looking for a new place on October 1st. I always had this vision of my grandmother walking around with a lamp and looking for a new place to put it.
An entry in Wikipedia corroborates my uncle. Or, vice versa.
At the height of Moving Day in the early 20th century, it was estimated that a million people in the city all changed their residences at the same time. Resistance to Moving Day was strong in the 1920s and 1930s, but it took the start of World War II to end the general practice, as the moving industry found it difficult to find able-bodied men to do the work. The post-war housing shortage and the advent of rent control finally put an end to the custom for good. By 1945, a newspaper headline announced "Housing Shortage Erases Moving Day."
Madeline Arakawa Gins is reported to have passed away in Manhattan, where she is also described as being a longtime resident. None of her projects were built in Manhattan. so we are left to believe that she didn't live in a non-conforming space. Thus, overall, a rather conventional existence.
Anyone who knows anything about apartments in Manhattan knows that eternal life is achieved by being lucky enough to live in a rent-controlled apartment. Funny floors and off-kilter light switches have nothing to do with lasting long. Just ask the owners of those buildings.
http://www.onofframp.blogspot.com
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