There are two Hills in my life. One is the urban ghetto called “The Hill” in the 1980s TV program Hill Street Blues , which David and I have been indulging in, now that it’s on DVD. David has even started to end staff meetings with Sergeant Esterhouse’s usual warning, “Let’s be careful out there.” Now that it’s on DVD, staffers like Joe DiStefano are willing to give Hill Street Blues a try. We had offered him the video tape highlights collection a while back and he had to decline, “I think when I was a kid we had one of those machines, but I don’t know what happened to it.” Now we have a technology Joe recognizes, and Liz too wants to take a look. We may just make it a requirement, watching this show. The police captain who is one of the main characters is a wonderful leadership model, always ready to listen, clear and principled, and quick witted. I look forward to the day when we do our “leadership in popular culture” database; I claim the entry on Hill Street Blues.
And I live on “The Hill” in Great Barrington. It’s really Castle Hill, I suppose, but locals just call it The Hill. We’re lucky to be here, and marvel over the way a five-minute walk (well, a 10-minute walk, if you’re Rachel and read a book the whole way) from Main Street, which is jammed with tourists tense about finding a parking spot, to birdsong and cool peacefulness. I wrote about my garden a few days ago and here’s a photo of the stream bed I mentioned.