Emma and Pearl in Prospect Park, Brooklyn. Pearl has a doctorate in writer
support.

  May 24, 208 – Hard to imagine two more culturally, sociologically and geographically different places than my farm and my daughter’s home, Brooklyn. I love both places, and
can completely understand living in either one. I’m spending the weekend with Emma and also seeing Pearl, who lived on the farm before she and Em fell in love, and she went to be a New York writer’s support dog. People here miss nature and animals and Pearl is pretty popular. Em’s super calls her “Lola” and Em can’t walk a dozen feet without being greeted by Pearl’s many new friends.
  We’ve been to a funky diner, a trendy Shushi place, Indiana Jones, today we saw the Yankees thump the Seattle Mariners, one of the last games I will see in the doomed Yankee Stadium (sniff), and tonight, dinner with Em and some of her friends.
 This place is a photographer’s dream, although also a challenge, different lighting, lenses, etc. Upstate, people sometimes come out of their houses with a rifle when I take photos, but her, they come out with coffee, croissants and questions to support “an artist at work.” I got up before dawn to take pictures of brownstones in the light, and was welcomed on many stoops, even invited inside a few homes.
  I’m very struck by wall murals, brownstones, and light hitting the streets. Got some good photos. I am tired, having walked miles and miles and am hobbling around like Quasimodo, but having a rich, sweet time. Em must have had a wonderful father to be so great. She is a sportswriter, doing a book on New York baseball, and I cannot believe how much she knows now.
  Being young, she doesn’t quite grasp the irony of our first visit to Yankee stadium, when she knew nothing and wise old Dad told her how to score a game. Now, I know nothing compared to her. It’s an irony, but a very nice one. I am quite proud of her and, quite
objectively, impressed by her.
 Oh, and I bought a Yankee cap to wear. Nuts to you uinsufferable Boston fans. You are about to get trounced and resune your rightful place as dysfunctional, unhappy and bitter baseball fans.