we all need heroes

After the parade

 Yesterday was the birthday of a hero of Mexican independence, Ignacio Allende. He would have been 247 years old. Had he not been shot and decapitated for treason by the Spanish authorities or died of other causes. Needless to say, the town named for him, San Miguel de Allende, turned out in force (literally, if the number of soldiers in uniform meant anything) to celebrate. Not that they don't celebrate everything from haircuts on up here. I missed the parade due to other commitments, but the remains of the day were to be seen around the Jardin when i took my daily promenade.

The hero Allende in the center of the Jardin

comida

Guests! Mom had Anne, a mindfulness teacher and her doctor husband over for a delicious lunch made by Rosio (center) of shrimp and salsas and handmade tortillas and other good things. Muy rico! And the conversation was almost entirely politics. Like most of mine these days.

the blind leading the blind

There had been a gathering of the blind at the library. These two were wending their way home, but not alone. They were shadowed.

safe and sound in san miguel de allende

fruits of chinatown

Dragon eyes (litchee relative) and good fortune

Believe me, I don't plan to. Aand—off to Mexico tomorrow at 4 ayem.

the perfect gift

#thefunniestgrandson

Certain young'uns got had many, many presents under the Christmas tree—books and games and trucks and toys of all descriptions. But you never know what will strike a young man's fancy, and this year it was the bucket that a bunch of plastic animals came in. The bucket, aka "helmet," (and yes, he owns several actual helmets) has proved to give lasting pleasure as nothing else quite can. Go figure!

summer dreams

Claudia's Surf City: The livin is easy

"Is it okay if I bring my therapy dog?" First time I have gotten this question in 16 years renting  houses on Block Island. Of course it's a somewhat needless inquiry since I allow all dogs, therapeutic or not. Anyway, two weeks into booking season, and Hannah's Hideaway is booked out. Claudia's Surf City still has a couple weeks left at the beginning and end of season ($4900/wk). People sometimes ask whether I drop the price as summer gets closer. Hell no! They are lucky I don't raise it! For info about costs, calendar, and more pix, check out VRBO for Claudia's  or Hannah's. A hammock at the beach is definitely therapeutic—even without the dog.

Old style Block Island

another house?

It's teenytiny and shabby, but it is on a dead end street close to the amazing waterfront park in Providence—and two doors from Hannah's. I didn't get a look inside, but according to the scouts it is eminently rentable. It's not far from Brown and RISD on the hip East Side. Providence is an up and coming town, and the prices are still low. You could probably get this for $150,000.
    I could find the energy to renovate. But collect rents and fix roofs and monitor sump pumps on a fourth property? I dunno. Anyone interested?

wrapping it up

You too can download the Everbliss app to get counseling and coaching on all matters personal and professional from a cast of—many. I asked for help with business planning and anxiety and out popped Ms. Garrison. You may also find her in the unlikely event that you seek out the music of a band with a particularly nasty name (the music is rather better). Unlikely, I expect.
In the event that you are in Southern California, you might want to take in (or be immersed in) an exhibition by several artists including the very talented Jessica Rath. "The Ocelots of Foothill Boulevard" is a weird environmental installation in a disused infirmary from Pitzer College Art Galleries.
Speaking of talented, if you haven't looked at the Donna Ferrato doc on domestic violence, here it is on The Atlantic's website. You can also watch the others honored in the "Conflict" series.
There is a site with some great long-form journalism, all by women writers from the past year. (Thus Sean Penn was not considered.) Check it out.
And here is a selection of old photographs from LIFE magazine. Many will be familiar to you, and many of them are even more so to me, having written captions for them over and over.
And lastly, if any of you has cause to be in New Orleans, you might be lucky enough to score my cousin Glenn's rental cottage. I can attest to the fact that it is totally fab.
And that's all I can deal with today. In mourning for David Bowie.

catching up

Ivy was my roommate when I moved to New York City 40-some years ago. She was a native, and could show the out-of-owner the ropes. We lived in barely acceptable apartments in marginal neighborhoods (back then there were marginal Manhattan neighborhoods) ,and then the city mouse and the country mouse switched roles. I got custody of Max's Kansas City and CBGB's and Studio 54 and People magazine, and she moved to the country to paint her mailbox blue. Four marriages and a dozen careers later (most of them hers), she is back in the city (well, Queens). And we can still gab in the kitchen like we used to.

boys are back in town

Tommy V, sometime Romance Commando

It happens about once a year. Tommy and Ed get together and inevitably there seem to be John Prine songs and glasses of Jameson (no, I know that's wine in front of him—the Jameson came later, much later).
    They aren't great football fans, which is just as well, since the get-together was the day (and night) of the Rose Bowl, aka Hannah's birthday. This was one for the record books—older doesn't seem to mean wiser—but no one seemed to be irredeemably harmed in the making of this excellent fete.

Eddy B., sometime Romance Commando fan

a new year

Girl of the Year

In the New Year, the Block Island Times is being taken over by the asshole who fronted for Sheldon Adelson in the purchase of the Las Vegas paper. Caused a national stir, as you can see in this NY Times piece. Here's the part about his Block Island purchase and a pretty good summary of the controversy.
And how about those militia assholes, huh? They've been looking for trouble for a long time. Ed turned me on to Frank Martin in the 90s, and I did a magazine story about his fight against hate groups in 2000. He agrees with this article. These hotheads are still trying to start a revolution. And the damn Republicans (I'm talking about you, Adelson) are buying them guns and feeding their racist fury. Fuck them. 

On a better note, here is the first show of Across The Blue Ridge from my childhood friend Paul Brown. He showcases a passel of Bluegrass pickers and fiddlers covering a seasonal tune.
And a very touching story from Keri Pickett about a photograph of her grandparents hugging from her book Love in the 90s.
In case you missed it, here's Jerry Seinfeld and Barack Obama hanging out in something called "Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee." And speaking of Obama, here he is wiping away a tear as Aretha Franklin performs "Natural Woman" in a tribute to the overwhelmed Carole King (her version here).

happy birthday hannah!

Isaac was actually singing to himself on his second birthday, but I have put the video in service for his mom.

after the flood

Cutting to the chase, the Goose is ok after the flooding. Bill went out and checked yesterday, and while the water came well up, it didn't get in—to his river house or mine.  Below are two videos I made of the flooding in 2011. The really big one (that DID get into the Goose) was in, I believe, 92 or 93. Anyway, when I leave next year I am going to stash some handy sandbags.

now at whole foods

Calm-a-Mama (and calmababy, calmayourself and etc) is now carried in New England's   Whole Foods stores. Different products (Focus, Sleep, Calm, Teeth and Tummy) are carried in different parts of the stores. Go into your local Whole Paycheck store and hunt some down or ask for some, if they don't have any. We want to make this a groundswell to roll out nationwide. Many of the first stores have reordered several times. I can personally attest that the Sleep drops work.

back to the big city

and the skyline keeps changing

God bless us every one!

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letters to santa

One could write

Two went to the Post Office

Three dropped the letters in the mail.

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sometimes you get the breaks

So we were walking up the subway stairs and who should be walking down but famous fotog Ferrato, en route from a radio show (air date to follow). Sometimes you catch a break an run into a friend from the other end of New York City.

sightseeing

Bubba Richard and Bubba Merrell came to the Big City all the way from Alabama. Well, they aren't really bubbas, they are actually my cousins. One of them is even lactose intolerant. He used to be gluten-free but has lost the faith. Too bad, I wanted him to have a call-in show. Anyway, we went from the Upper White Side all the way downtown to the Staten Island ferry, with a stop in Chinatown for lunch. And then we rode the Seaglass carousel, which was a trip, and took the subway home. A big outing.
  Most of my friends and family can't believe I went along as the native guide.

as promised: the roundup

Ok.
Well, one former classmate of Hannah's at Hunter did the musical of the year, Hamilton, and the other is the scumbag who buys drugs and raises their prices. I think he might be crazy, as you can read here about his recent arrest for fraud.
Another Hunter alum—who did not go to the dark side—Hannah's best hs bud Mira Silverman, has a child's herbal reader, Angelica to Zingiber for sale.
And speaking of A to Z, here's a guide to food in Rhode Island from Allie's Donuts to Zeppoles
Speaking of childhood friends, bluegrass musician Paul Brown (you may recognize his voice as NPR's news reader from Washington), has a show Across the Blue Ridge being aired January 2 and 3 and via podcast on West Virginia station WFDD. Supposed to be fab.
 Chien-Chi Chang's Jet Lag was selected as one of the year's top photo books by Time.
And speaking of photo books, Jamie's new best friend in France, Louis Stettner, has a book out of vintage pictures of the old Penn Station.
Speaking of magazines—you didn't know there were any left, did you?—here is a selection of the covers of the year.
Speaking of photographers,  Christina Amanpour CNN series called Conflict features Donna Ferrato. You can watch the series on the Atlantic. Also, if you are in Venice, you can catch her work in "Through Women's Eyes," along with that of Yoko Ono. Here is a NYT review of the show.
And speaking of old friends, my college bf, filmmaker Wesley Strick, and his wife made a short film about a Planned Parenthood clinic which won some awards. They put it up on line after the Planned Parenthood bombing in Colorado, and you can see Watching, Waiting here. He is also a writer for Amazon's series The Man in the High Castle, which has been renewed.
And speaking of violence, here is a map  How Many People Have Been Shot Near You? And another, How Many Hate Groups Are Based Near You?  And while we're at it, you are seven times more likely to be killed by a conservative extremist than a Muslim terrorist. I am just being nice not to say that most of them call themselves Christians. I know, Merry Christmas!
However, in better holiday news, Robert Bobrow's last Huffington Post column explains why low fat diets are bad for you. So enjoy the festive boards!
As for the rest of my roundup, I can't even. . .

not quite winter in the city

98 in its glory

Presents to wrap

The temperature is still the same as my age, but Christmas is almost here. The evening light—at 4 pm!—is amazing. For some reason, maybe the lack of light, I have been staying up until like 3 ayem and sleeping in. However, last night there was a reason: The Household Chef prepared dinner for four. He made duck breast with cherry sauce, roasted brussel sprouts with grapes, and it was finished with a fine Camebert and amazing baguette from Otra Rubia.And cupcakes!

The Chef at work; Peter in the trenches

coming attractions

There are a bunch of links I want to put up. Maybe later today.

selfies at 65

The Jewel in the Lotus, August 15, 2015

 

This is not the Facebook version. I am not telling my faithful readers (all  20 of you) anything y’all don’t know. But to recap.

It has been an awful year.

My father died.  I got depressed for the first time ever.

Seeking reassurance from my lover, I got dumped.

Since the “I have to be free” speech my heart pounds so loudly it wakes me up.

And the dreams.

My hair fell out and came in white.

And don’t even start with me about the news!

But.

I am no longer depressed.

No one else has died or fallen ill this year.

My amour propre (conceit) has protected me from believing I am as repugnant as charged.

I have many people to love—friends to crack me up, family to share the little things, grandchildren to jump on me, exes to adore me (since they no longer have to live with me).

And Medicare.

Thank you all! 65 promises to be a much better year.

Though, um, the presidential race.

I know what the jewel in the lotus, endlessly reflected, really is. And so do you. Thank you. What I'd like to say is in this poem by Naomi Shihab Nye called "Kindness."

Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.
Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness,
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.
Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.
Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to mail letters and
purchase bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
it is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you every where
like a shadow or a friend.
 

The Jewel in the Lotus, December 13, 2015

man of the hour

House of the Flying Lobster was awash with photographers and their admirers. Chien-Chi sold out his stock—or as much as he was able to carry and "sign." Each signing seems to take about an hour and require heavy use of stamps and different color ink pads, so since we arrived at 5 and left at 11, you do the math. . .
A fine time was had by all, mostly on Ed and CC's tab, including Kathleen and the bartender (left).

my all-time favorite xmas card

Brilliant! And a  samx yrrem to you, too, Bill Dugan!

the lobster and the photographer

 The adopted lobster peruses Chien-Chi Chang's new book, Jet Lag, which I helped to edit (the words, that is). Little did Lobster know that he was about to be adopted again. It so happens that Chien-Chi is having a book signing tomorrow, Thursday, at House of the Flying Lobster at 144 Union Street in Brooklyn. (For how that venue got its name, see this NYT article.) So it seemed only appropriate, Ed thought, that the lobster go to Ed's friend Neil, the patron and chef of flying lobster fame who had agreed to host Chien-Chi in his mission to sell a few collectors' copies. Just don't attempt to take CCC's picture if you go. Photographers don't like that much. Lobsters, however, don't mind.

Chien-Chi hopes that no one will attempt to read his palm.

too far above sea level

Sometimes the elevator is sooo slowwww. . .

festival of lights

Twas the first night of Hanukkah and all through 98
People were thinking about what to put on their plate.
Toby had made the latkes with care
(Though of course way too soon, she said, I dare swear)
The family had gathered on the sixteenth floor
And as soon as Matt had come in the door [from parking the car]
Deb lit the candles, and we all sang the prayer
And thought of some others we wished could be there.
And then—oh the pancakes, the meatloaf, the gelt
We left quite replete. I had to loosen my belt.

the march of time

Fom Time magazine's "office," the Chrismas-ready Freedom Tower and 9/11 memorial.

Otra Rubia in one of Time Inc's lobbies.

She looks happy, but maybe she was just glad to see us. The last of the Time Inc. magazines has relocated from the "Time-Life" Building at Rockefeller Center in midtown Manhattan to the World Trade tower area. The office itself is one big bullpen with some super weird privacy chairs, soundproof glass booths, opaque crying rooms and killer views. Outside it looks like Chicago or someplace. All new glass towers, waterfront parks, public sculpture, high end malls and food courts. Unlike the New York or Time Inc. of my experience.

the sheikh and the coquette

Miriam and her admirer, back in the day

Back in the day, when Miriam was just a slip of a thing in her early twenties, she was already a world traveler. (I may have some of this story wrong; Doro or Miriam, if you read this, pls correct!)
   She had blown through Turkey on the back of the motorcycle of some chance-met man, when she decided to take passage to India through the Suez Canal. On board ship, the crown prince of a small country set up a serious flirtation with her. So serious that he wrote asking for her hand in marriage—although, he said, he realized that American women didn't care for multiple marriages and he already had a wife. But, he assured Miriam, his other marriage was obligatory and Miriam would be the wife of his heart.
   "What did you say?" I asked.
   "Well I said no, of course!"
   Years later she saw that his father had been assassinated and that her suitor had become sheikh, and then that he had been assassinated and his son had assumed the title.
   Now, at 80-something, she regards the picture of herself with the sheikh on her computer and tries to convince herself to write about the experience. I surely hope she does. She could straighten out my facts.

decking the halls

Frankie and Johnny prep the Salami Lobby for the upcoming holidays.

Lulu and Milla await Thanksgiving dinner.

The holiday tradition at 98 is that "the men" trim the tree, light the menorah and put out holiday greeting cards with all of their names, whereupon you are meant to give them magnificent tips.
   There is something to be said for continuity, however, and the tips do help with that. A third generation is now celebrating holidays at 98, coming through what Milla observantly calls "the salami lobby" to observe festivities in their grandmothers' houses.

some things endure

Eva, Thanksgiving 2007

Eva, Thanksgiving 2015

It's nice to have certain touchstones. Like Eva will do the annual family portrait and the place cards for Thanksgiving.  At a certain point I thought it might be good to start keeping the placecards for the next year, anticipating that doing a whole new set would at some point become onerous. That point was reached this year. She managed to switch out many of the 27 but we reused some from olden times.
   I hope Eva keeps going til we can train up Camilla.

Place cards through the ages.