Intensely flashing light followed by that erupting crash of thunder and the hard smacking of hail, sleep was over. What's the time ... what's the time?? Darkness, again, wrapped the house as the deluge pounded. Are you kidding me? The jump is today .... do we do this in the rain? Surely not. Coffee, need coffee by the pot or sleep could possibly return. Well, o.k., up, dressed wondering "can they get a plane off the ground in this; AND, oh lord, that water hitting you like tiny bullets". Breath, just breath, the phone will ring any minute with a cancellation/postponement of the event.
By 8:30 a.m., meet, greet and prep complete, we piled into the plane. Spiraling upwards through clouds or maybe it was fog, we reached altitude. Unable to recall committing to such a CRAZY idea but I'm no chicken, forget standing in the door ... there was no door just falling, falling. Fog swirled in a vortex ...... "Mrs. Drake .... Mrs. Drake wake up"! "She's coming around Doctor". Opening her eyes, the Doctor's face took shape. "Your colonoscopy went perfectly ..... we removed 20 polops .... everything is fine."
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Ebb and Flow .... Wax and Wan ... Life and
Ah, Pisces the water sign, have appreciated the ebb and flow of the tide, force of the moon and the need to be flexible. Amazed by the exactness, predictability, let alone the affect on our lives, March 2011 has proven to be emotional, both elation and sadness simultaneously.
Timing is everything; it's absolutely true! The flight booked and real estate agent scheduled during the last full week of New Orleans Mardi Gras. A son is being transferred to Louisiana and needs to find a house; so, might as well have some fun while we're there. He had explained there was a 10 year plan regarding marriage even though wasn't certain of the location in that span of time. An afternoon phone call cleared up the question. The Bachelor/Bride "party/shower" was presently being held at the Abita Brewery. O.K. that fits. Saturday, the 5th, during one of the Black Tie extravaganza in the company of thousands, vows were exchanged, papers signed and beads thrown. Would have loved being there but life intervened with a different trip.
She was 97, my mother. She had lived at home alone since 1990 when Dad died. The 90th birthday party seemed to have heralded the loosing of most of her friends. A few years later a compression fracture in her back required home assistance. She managed to carve their duties from 24/7 to afternoons. A strong willed, stubborn, willful, world class procrastinator was loved anyway. Sometimes, it felt as though Scarlett O'Hara had moved in; particularly when we heard "I'll think about that tomorrow". Wanted to inquire where's the "fiddle dee dee" .... discretion is the better part of valor and impulsive daughters. The other trait that maddened was her need not to tell anything "important" .... i.e. do not worry her[me]. Once inquired if she had raised a mushroom for a daughter. She felt the analogy was imprudent [her word]. Our frequent conversations became nothing more than weather reports and a very brief "I'm fine". However, this call was greeted differently. 300 miles later found her having been settled into Hospice. She peacefully slipped away on the 10th [my birthday] only 6 days shy of her 98th.
They wed on a new moon in the mysterious, sensitive, creative sign of Pisces on a median high tide. Well, that could lead one to consider the obvious new step in life with the creation of a united life on an incoming swell of excitement and change. Cornball, maybe ..... it's actually what we choose to see. On a waxing crescent in the sign of a patient, tranquil Taurus and a receding tide, she slipped away to meet Dad for a long awaited tee off time. Wow, this doesn't need a clairvoyant. Reality is, it doesn't matter the reading.... life, as with the moon and tide, comes and goes, is good and bad at any given moment. Love and loss bound up together eternally ... not just mine but yours as well.
Come join me in the garden, let's talk of Spring and possibly planting by the signs. How about some Moroccan Orange Spiced tea .............
Timing is everything; it's absolutely true! The flight booked and real estate agent scheduled during the last full week of New Orleans Mardi Gras. A son is being transferred to Louisiana and needs to find a house; so, might as well have some fun while we're there. He had explained there was a 10 year plan regarding marriage even though wasn't certain of the location in that span of time. An afternoon phone call cleared up the question. The Bachelor/Bride "party/shower" was presently being held at the Abita Brewery. O.K. that fits. Saturday, the 5th, during one of the Black Tie extravaganza in the company of thousands, vows were exchanged, papers signed and beads thrown. Would have loved being there but life intervened with a different trip.
She was 97, my mother. She had lived at home alone since 1990 when Dad died. The 90th birthday party seemed to have heralded the loosing of most of her friends. A few years later a compression fracture in her back required home assistance. She managed to carve their duties from 24/7 to afternoons. A strong willed, stubborn, willful, world class procrastinator was loved anyway. Sometimes, it felt as though Scarlett O'Hara had moved in; particularly when we heard "I'll think about that tomorrow". Wanted to inquire where's the "fiddle dee dee" .... discretion is the better part of valor and impulsive daughters. The other trait that maddened was her need not to tell anything "important" .... i.e. do not worry her[me]. Once inquired if she had raised a mushroom for a daughter. She felt the analogy was imprudent [her word]. Our frequent conversations became nothing more than weather reports and a very brief "I'm fine". However, this call was greeted differently. 300 miles later found her having been settled into Hospice. She peacefully slipped away on the 10th [my birthday] only 6 days shy of her 98th.
They wed on a new moon in the mysterious, sensitive, creative sign of Pisces on a median high tide. Well, that could lead one to consider the obvious new step in life with the creation of a united life on an incoming swell of excitement and change. Cornball, maybe ..... it's actually what we choose to see. On a waxing crescent in the sign of a patient, tranquil Taurus and a receding tide, she slipped away to meet Dad for a long awaited tee off time. Wow, this doesn't need a clairvoyant. Reality is, it doesn't matter the reading.... life, as with the moon and tide, comes and goes, is good and bad at any given moment. Love and loss bound up together eternally ... not just mine but yours as well.
Come join me in the garden, let's talk of Spring and possibly planting by the signs. How about some Moroccan Orange Spiced tea .............
Sunday, February 27, 2011
The Memory of Lost Moments
Entering through the kitchen door, the intro music of Out of Africa spilled out into the yard. You can actually feel your heart squeeze, your lungs empty with a whoosh and the emotion of devastating loss rise up into your throat. Then, the uncontrolled rush of tears and memories swirl about as ghosts without form or substance. This had been our movie, our music and it was Africa..... the only thing he had ever wanted was an African Safari, and we never saw our way clear to go. This is my guilt; my shame; my wish to have said yes. So, with his sudden demise 11 years ago, this haunts me. For years could neither watch the movie or listen to the score.
How many times do we say, "Oh, well, there's always tomorrow"..... no, not always and we have left so much undone or not said. These are not original thoughts but they are reality. This music became very significant to us. We had been invited to be trainers at Philmont Training Center in New Mexico for several years; and as anyone who has been there, loved all of the pieces and parts of the ranch. When you entered the property from the side that brings you in from up behind the barns, the view was, to us, reminiscent of some of the movie's scenes of Africa's savannahs and Gret Riff. For atmosphere and to tease the moment, we would stop while the tape played that signature sound..... very special to us. It will ever be linked in my heart with that one man that brought fun, romance, adventure; he made my world complete. Well, it's true.
The scene when Dennis takes Karen for her plane ride is gripped with the sharing of life's special moments we often pass off as "oh, wow, that was beautiful", when the reality is that moment will never come again. We should wrap our arms around that person and hold on for dear life. How often does it slid away un-noticed? Just to feel the touch of his hand on mine; the arm that draws you near in the middle of the night; that funny look "I want you" while standing in a crowd .... there are not words to lessen the knowing you will never experience that again.
So, the movie ends with his sudden death .... odd, that hollow empty feeling. The hole that can't be filled again. Shopping for things doesn't help, the emptiness remains. Have seen where some immediately find another person for fear of being alone. Have watched others commit to the next relationship but hold back a portion of themselves so as to insure the whole self isn't hurt again. Granted walking in others shoes might change this point of view...but I doubt it. Shouldn't it be an all or nothing situation. Right, it's clear everyone doesn't/hasn't had a good experience in the marriage department; all the same, why would we partially commit. That's like trying two horses at one time .... a little awkward trying to keep your balance and not very satisfying. Love, if you ever come into my life again, it will be all or nothing. As the movie score plays for the credits, that knot swells in the throat and tears blur the vision for remembered and lost moments. Tomorrow may not arrive ... today is now ... aging makes one realize, life and love are fragile and precious!
How many times do we say, "Oh, well, there's always tomorrow"..... no, not always and we have left so much undone or not said. These are not original thoughts but they are reality. This music became very significant to us. We had been invited to be trainers at Philmont Training Center in New Mexico for several years; and as anyone who has been there, loved all of the pieces and parts of the ranch. When you entered the property from the side that brings you in from up behind the barns, the view was, to us, reminiscent of some of the movie's scenes of Africa's savannahs and Gret Riff. For atmosphere and to tease the moment, we would stop while the tape played that signature sound..... very special to us. It will ever be linked in my heart with that one man that brought fun, romance, adventure; he made my world complete. Well, it's true.
The scene when Dennis takes Karen for her plane ride is gripped with the sharing of life's special moments we often pass off as "oh, wow, that was beautiful", when the reality is that moment will never come again. We should wrap our arms around that person and hold on for dear life. How often does it slid away un-noticed? Just to feel the touch of his hand on mine; the arm that draws you near in the middle of the night; that funny look "I want you" while standing in a crowd .... there are not words to lessen the knowing you will never experience that again.
So, the movie ends with his sudden death .... odd, that hollow empty feeling. The hole that can't be filled again. Shopping for things doesn't help, the emptiness remains. Have seen where some immediately find another person for fear of being alone. Have watched others commit to the next relationship but hold back a portion of themselves so as to insure the whole self isn't hurt again. Granted walking in others shoes might change this point of view...but I doubt it. Shouldn't it be an all or nothing situation. Right, it's clear everyone doesn't/hasn't had a good experience in the marriage department; all the same, why would we partially commit. That's like trying two horses at one time .... a little awkward trying to keep your balance and not very satisfying. Love, if you ever come into my life again, it will be all or nothing. As the movie score plays for the credits, that knot swells in the throat and tears blur the vision for remembered and lost moments. Tomorrow may not arrive ... today is now ... aging makes one realize, life and love are fragile and precious!
Friday, January 14, 2011
Hay and Double Bubble
An only child on a small horse farm in 1940's East Tennessee left no opportunity for friends. Tunacuna was a magical world for a fertile imagination which probably caused her parents concern. A pasture could become a vast prairie of waving grasses home to herds of buffalo. The corral attached to the barn had surely seen cowboys break wild horses. She would stand on the porch to watch a summer rain storm sweep along the mountain backdrop until it encompassed her world. Barefooted, grabbing an umbrella, she loved the water splashing up her legs with the fall of each foot. There was a trough down the yard where the beckoning rain water congregated. Other times might find her sitting quietly in the barn listening to the pelleting drops dance on the tin roof. That barn was also a refuge from the volcanic atmosphere of the main house. Her pleasures were simple: the sounds of horses munching their grain and hay, chickens pecking in the dirt and her Cocker Spaniel, Count, curled up beside her. Hours had been spent here just listening and watching. From time to time, she'd lead a horse out into the hall, cross tie and brush til their coat glistened. Funny how they were so gentle towering over her. It required a couple of boxes to stand on in order to reach their backs. And sometimes the temptation of slidding onto those broad backs was a deliciously forbidden treat and could not be resisted. There is nothing so grand as the smell of a horse or the feel of one between the knees. They loved her too. Concerned with the countless number of hours spent in the barn, Mother and Daddy rationalized she needs to be around other children. "CAMP" what is a camp and why? What did I do wrong? I can learn to swim in the creek!! PLEASE, don't make me go!! So, sentenced to a Girl Scout Camp for 2 weeks. It was a blur of strangers assigned 6 to each cabin. The art of lanyard plaiting was illusive, lashing tripods was clumsy, but swimming was achieved. Friends .... well, that skill was slow to develop as a painful shyness caused the brain and mouth to shut down. Many tearful nights ended with the concerned administration contacting HOME and, glory be, she was released from the torment. As the car rolled to a stop, she bounded through the door and raced to the barn. Greeted by welcoming nickers and those out in the lower pasture came on a dead run. Count was bouncing up and down impatient for his hugs as well. Joy was written all over her; this was heaven. The next summer was different. Mississippi grandparents were to be visited and as they made the trip several times each year all seemed normal. As the weekend visit came to a close and the car began being packed, grandparent asked, out of no where, would parents allow the "baby" to say for a little while longer. Oh how she would like to stay with them and could be picked up on their next trip down. The small town was an exciting experience. Grandmother rose early each day to shop for the day's fresh vegetables, meats, Double Bubble chewing gum and something really new ... Kool Aid. She was introduced to the merchants, green grocer, baker [and oh, the smell of cinnamon rolls filled the street at that hour]. By the time they returned, Janie had dusted, swept, changed the linens and was ready to move to the swing in the backyard under the giant China Berry tree and shell peas or string the beans for Dinner .... that's a large noontime meal in the South. Time came to drive down to "the shop" for Grandfather and return for a couple of hours. Whatever was left was stored for Supper that evening as it was too hot to cook twice in one day. Life was orderly and planned with the precision of a German General. There was a Social Calendar which included Picnics, Swimming and Watermelon Parties, and Tea Parties ..... that took some getting used to .... oh, and they required wearing dresses resulting in shopping trips to a neighboring, larger, town. Mortification personified .... white frilly socks and white sandals, not to mention the Organza pinafore. The hair, normally a long mass of flyaway chestnut curls was subdued with French Braids ending with satin ribbon bows. You know what .... it was fun and special friendships developed with several. Melissa Ann became her constant companion ..... sisters. They even share birthdays only days apart. From mud pies to lipstick, they were each other's confidant from the very beginning. They ran into and out of each others house without a thought. The really neat thing was Melissa's family always included her in what ever they were involved .... even learning to ride bicycles. That alone was an undertaking. Together that was 5 children; Melissa and her 2 younger sisters and a baby brother. Her parents had the patience of Job and an iron will. Holy cow, a bicycle opened up the whole world. It would begin with just the two of them and as they neared a friend's house she would join in. By the end of pedaling all over town they resembled a small force of laughing happy faces. The day Grandfather brought home the blue Flyer at noon, it was difficult to sit through Dinner. Finally he allowed her to be excused from the table and instructed to stay on the sidewalk. "Do not go into the street." An hour later, the first commandeering took place. However, it became evident life had expanded and "just be careful and watch out for cars" was issued. Bicycles shared the transportation load with cars as they neared 16. And of course, going to the Municipal pool was not solely for swimming. The first time Elvis was heard singing Hound Dog was at a Thursday night Teen Tavern. This was an open pavilion with a concrete floor and record play for dancing. Double dating, just riding around with the sisters for a coke, Sunday afternoon movies followed by a french fries and coke at Harold's Cafe ... life was perfect. Those chosen sisters shared a life so alien to her Tennessee world, she held on to it jealously. For many years, each summer was filled with at least 2 weeks in Mississippi. The farm, though, continued to be magical. And to this day, the aroma of hay and Double Bubble gum causes the mind to swirl with pleasures of horses and the sisters. Good lawrd, that began over 65 years ago.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Glancing over my shoulder .... HO HO HO
As a child, he had experienced "very lean" Christmases in the gifting department. He wanted so many packages under the tree that his sons would actually tire of opening presents as he had received only one gift a year. The results were plies of wrapped boxes filled with silly or fun things and one major gift each [no clothes]. The stockings, on the other hand, became Mom's event to be enjoyed first. Along with the candies, she tried to find a special stuffer, which continues today.
So, off for a Currier and Ives holiday in Connecticut. Christmas morn [no snow], the stockings [for the pets as well] were filled and leaning by the fireplace. The family gathered with steaming cups and morning chatter. Finally, stocking time .... among the chocolates an envelope with a sheet of information: reservations at the Algonquin Hotel, tickets to WICKED and dinner reservations at THE ORIGINAL OLD HOMESTEAD. It was for her a special family overnight trip into New York that probably would not ever happen again. It was a stretch in the purse, but she wanted to do this for her family. Later that day, a visit to a neighboring town and the movie Tron. The show was good but the "popcorn", yes, the "popcorn" was the best ever and will be remembered long after the movie is forgotten. Later in the evening, a terrific steak dinner at home caused a hush to fall over the table. Ummmmm, oooooh, good food, good times and family .... is anything better???? Not for me.
Next day, a late breakfast at The Whistle Stop before an afternoon of Duck Pin Bowling. Little squatty pins and boccie size balls with no finger holes. What ever skill had existed in the distant past is completely gone ..... gutter ball, gutter ball, gutter ball ..... oh, please. Cajoling, laughing, resetting pins with the "pedal, pedal, pedal", we had fun! When the purchased hour was reached, departure was into a deepening snow. It's Connecticut for goodness sakes; a little snow doesn't stop the flow of life as it would cripple Tennessee. Apparently the car is not front wheel drive as expected; so once home, parked it for the duration. Looking back, it had been a good day all around, and, it's Italian tonight ..... perfect!
Snow and wind blew all night leaving various depths the next morning. Voila .... white Christmas ...... the blizzard clobbered New York leaving streets clogged and cars assaulted by clearing equipment. By the afternoon, the neighborhood snow blowers cranked up and life resumed. For us it was back to that same theater for True Grit and more importantly the popcorn. Actually, it has crept into dreams; yes, the popcorn. There will be no snickering; it's no joke.
Early morning, we are off to the city with a drive to New Haven, then the train into Grand Central Station. Yes, that sounds like such a tourist .... but you know what ..... tourist applies. My goodness, a cavernous hall lined with wreaths and the golden zodiac signs against a pale blue ceiling. And right there, getting our bearings an agent asked how long we'd had "that Georgia South Carolina accent". Actually, it's Tennessee; lawrd, hope I don't sound like a hick. Then, we're through the door and taa daa .... headlong into ridges of snow lining the sidewalks and streets. No cab necessary, it's "only" 3 blocks to 44th between 5th and 6th, so the walking began.
Finally through the etched glass doors into old oak and history. Hello Dorothy Parker .... and friends. Once checked in hunger pangs rage. How far to the Carnegie Deli? "Oh, it's only a few blocks". As we neared, other hungry folks had formed a line awaiting entry. Eventually seated, they had crammed as many table as possible between those resisting walls. Perusing the menu and eyeing delivered plates, there is no way on earth the mountain called a sandwich could be consumed by one person and then walk. With little deliberation, splitting one seemed acceptable. "And for you?" Well, what else, Pastrami on Rye and onion rings for the table. Right down to the last morsel of meat, it was the best and the rings weren't shabby either. The place was packed and probably 80% were tourist..... us too. The only thing needed now is a little exercise. Back to the snow ridged streets and F.A.O. Schwartz for the "Big" piano performance and a wander through the toys. The greeter, a gentleman dressed as a toy soldier, was a show stopper himself. Looking around, this really is real .... we are here. Time, temporarily, seemed suspended even though the day was moving right along. Where did all of these people come from.
Back on the street with the snow, slush, impatient drivers and cars blocking entire streets, headed for Top of the Roc and the Christmas tree. Four tickets and then up to the top for an astounding 360 degree view. Holyyy Cowww, Central Park is gorgeous under this blanket of snow. It would be hard pressed to be more beautiful. All the way to the Battery, then beyond to the Statue of Liberty and Staten Island was washed in the rose hues of the impending sunset. The air crisp and clear, one could see forever. Unfortunately, aging joints and legs were resulting in the sense of humor slipping. Thank goodness the hotel was "only" 3 blocks away ..... those were the short ones. Everyone took their own route; so with cane in hand, which turned out to be the measuring tool at curbs to determine the slush depth, felt the tenor of the city and the crush of the cattle herd. Actually, the snow ridges at crosswalks were either stomped down or a single tiny path and you are one small salmon swimming against the tide. And this is New York!
Ahh, success and through those wonderful doors. Have you ever been afraid of taking off your shoes, boots, whatever for fear of not being able to get them back on? Right with you!! Collapsed onto that magnificent bed and didn't move for an hour. It could have been longer, I wasn't counting. Dinner reservations were for 7:30, so 3 of us met for a drink while one of us managed to tear himself away from a camera store and race back across town in a timely fashion. As per instructed, ask the bellman for a cab. Some 30 minutes later, we walked to 5th Avenue and found a car. The Original Old Homestead Restaurant is way the heck down 1st Avenue in the meat packing district ..... just 10 tables in the oak and mirrored room. Truly a well preserved and loved place. The decision for which cut of beef took a bit of time. Can't speak for the others, however, the Signature Fillet was incredible.
After a considerable amount of time and finally finished, we were faced with finding a cab. Luckily, one appeared and we piled in. One of the things we had discussed was wouldn't it be great if we found "The Cash Cab". Well, so far, no luck; but he did have the advertisement on his roof. That would have been a perfect end to the day; but the cabbie was a hoot. Listening to our comments, he felt one of us watched entirely too much t.v. which resulted in the rest of us almost falling out of the cab laughing.
Bed and everywhere aches; but, Morpheus eventually arrived and was wrapped in those wings. And the new day all is functional. Needing coffee, stop by to check on their morning before going down stairs. They already had coffee and rolls which would cause a breakfast confusion for me. Finally joined by one, were ushered to a table near the famed "round table" where Dorothy Parker and friends held court every day for lunch. Seems the original table had mysteriously disappeared 20 years before. Well, that's slightly suspicious. Breakfast was fair and due to my misunderstanding they went elsewhere.
Now, the much anticipated Mafia Tour Day ..... think it was actually called a Wiseguy Tour .... set for 10:30 a.m. and that's when things began to unravel. No Patrick [tour guide] and no Limo/SUV. 40 minutes late Patrick arrives apologetic, "the snow, you know"; but he pitches right into history of the Mafia in Sicily right up to Prohibition. Where is the Limo? Wow, it has been canceled for the day. End of story ..... a lost morning, it's noon. Crap!!!! What to do for a couple of hours??? That sense of humor thing is slipping again. Let's walk to the Gershwin Theater for our 2 p.m. performance of WICKED. So, a wander through the theater district sounded about right. The 45 minute wait for curtain was just fine. Had time to read the Playbill for background information and cast members. The light dim, the dragon roars and the music swells!! As for the show, well let's see. The stage setting was workably simple in it's complexity. The casts' timing and execution was beautiful. The principals presented their character perfectly but "green" girl was amazing and deserved every minute of the recognition she received. WOW, what a portrayal. Won't go into the story line, but it certainly plays into the Wizard of Oz and actually fills out the idea of Oz. A standing ovation for a terrific production!!!!!!!!!! Am so very glad I did not look it up on You Tube or the Internet and went in totally uninformed.
To return to the hotel, we were thinking cab ...... lots of luck ..... well, it's only "a few" blocks. Collected our things and walked to Grand Central. Waiting for tickets, we had time to actually see the architecture and watch the people; then, suddenly we were hurrying to our train to find a car that wasn't crammed with travelers. One of us engaged into conversation with fellow travelers almost immediately and for the duration to the end of the line. But what was actually surprising were the two young women who tried to convince their companion to lick the hand pole as they had done. Guess something was missed in my formative years .... but why comes to mind. YUCK!!!! Apparently, this occurred while a crossword puzzle had my undivided attention. And then the conductor announces "New Haven, end of the line".
Hungry and we are introduced to Frank Pepe's Pizzeria and a coal oven pizza. Thinking this must be the best pizza in the world ...... it's cold and there is a line outside. So we wait. Seemed the chat had gone out of all of us; maybe, it was just me. However, with the first bite could actually feel life returning. There is a difference created by the coal .... not the taste but the crispness of the crust but not like a cracker. Eating and listening to the local chatter we seemed to devour our shares. Was surprised there were a few pieces left. Hummm, now the drive to Bloomfield. Sure am glad we were convinced to postpone our return home for a day of recovery. By afternoon, began to reorganize the car and thank goodness the fluids were checked and found terribly low or empty. A trip to the mechanic indicated a serious issue that could have been extremely unpleasant on the highway AND it will not be ready until late tomorrow afternoon. Ahhh, 2 day recovery. All things being equal, no point stressing out. So we will travel on New Years Day. Our last evening together; some t.v., chatting, packing and early to bed.
Eight a.m. rolling southwest for home. "If you turn left on the next exit, we can take 10 to Bridgeport and pick up I-95 through the City." As long as we are going south, that's fine. Just as we crossed a river directions went a rye; instead of going straight across and through town, we missed it completely ending up on the New Jersey Turnpike. Deep breathing, frustration and anger at the lose of film opportunities were replaced later with the anticipation of Philadelphia. Well, shoot, we can go to Pat's and then cross the street to Geno's for our own Philly Steak taste test .... O.K.? Sure, it will be a first for this sandwich which should result in a more honest test. After a bit of wandering and circling the area, we became aware that parking was an issue [bumper to bumper comes to mind] and creativity would be necessary. Do you feel lucky?? Creativity won out..... well, the bumper was just inside the corner curb; and, we shouldn't be gone that long. Famous last words. Lucky us, walked right up to the window, ordered and received. Walked across the street, ordered and received but not a table to be had. Not to be deterred, stood at the narrow counter and began the taste test.
Have you ever been on a maiden voyage ..... that was the experience. One bread had a nice crisp crust and the other had a more moist meat. Personally some sandwiches are better with other "stuff" on it, well, wasn't all that impressed. BUT HEY, it was the home of the Philly Steak Sandwich and we didn't leave hungry. The best part ..... the car hadn't been towed, nor were there any boots locked on the tires. Oh, please, just find the interstate, that is of course if we are finished here. Back on the road headed south. Caught I-495 west around Washington, then right on 66 to Roanoke, Virginia and left on I-81. Before your eyes glaze over, midnight plus 30 and home sweet home ..... 993.8 miles one way ...... yep, 1,987.6 miles round trip...... and it was a not to be forgotten fun adventure; it was Christmas with the family; it was Connecticut ...... Now here we are and it's snowing. Hot chocolate or mulled cider would be perfect about now with a fire don't you think? Join me .......
So, off for a Currier and Ives holiday in Connecticut. Christmas morn [no snow], the stockings [for the pets as well] were filled and leaning by the fireplace. The family gathered with steaming cups and morning chatter. Finally, stocking time .... among the chocolates an envelope with a sheet of information: reservations at the Algonquin Hotel, tickets to WICKED and dinner reservations at THE ORIGINAL OLD HOMESTEAD. It was for her a special family overnight trip into New York that probably would not ever happen again. It was a stretch in the purse, but she wanted to do this for her family. Later that day, a visit to a neighboring town and the movie Tron. The show was good but the "popcorn", yes, the "popcorn" was the best ever and will be remembered long after the movie is forgotten. Later in the evening, a terrific steak dinner at home caused a hush to fall over the table. Ummmmm, oooooh, good food, good times and family .... is anything better???? Not for me.
Next day, a late breakfast at The Whistle Stop before an afternoon of Duck Pin Bowling. Little squatty pins and boccie size balls with no finger holes. What ever skill had existed in the distant past is completely gone ..... gutter ball, gutter ball, gutter ball ..... oh, please. Cajoling, laughing, resetting pins with the "pedal, pedal, pedal", we had fun! When the purchased hour was reached, departure was into a deepening snow. It's Connecticut for goodness sakes; a little snow doesn't stop the flow of life as it would cripple Tennessee. Apparently the car is not front wheel drive as expected; so once home, parked it for the duration. Looking back, it had been a good day all around, and, it's Italian tonight ..... perfect!
Snow and wind blew all night leaving various depths the next morning. Voila .... white Christmas ...... the blizzard clobbered New York leaving streets clogged and cars assaulted by clearing equipment. By the afternoon, the neighborhood snow blowers cranked up and life resumed. For us it was back to that same theater for True Grit and more importantly the popcorn. Actually, it has crept into dreams; yes, the popcorn. There will be no snickering; it's no joke.
Early morning, we are off to the city with a drive to New Haven, then the train into Grand Central Station. Yes, that sounds like such a tourist .... but you know what ..... tourist applies. My goodness, a cavernous hall lined with wreaths and the golden zodiac signs against a pale blue ceiling. And right there, getting our bearings an agent asked how long we'd had "that Georgia South Carolina accent". Actually, it's Tennessee; lawrd, hope I don't sound like a hick. Then, we're through the door and taa daa .... headlong into ridges of snow lining the sidewalks and streets. No cab necessary, it's "only" 3 blocks to 44th between 5th and 6th, so the walking began.
Finally through the etched glass doors into old oak and history. Hello Dorothy Parker .... and friends. Once checked in hunger pangs rage. How far to the Carnegie Deli? "Oh, it's only a few blocks". As we neared, other hungry folks had formed a line awaiting entry. Eventually seated, they had crammed as many table as possible between those resisting walls. Perusing the menu and eyeing delivered plates, there is no way on earth the mountain called a sandwich could be consumed by one person and then walk. With little deliberation, splitting one seemed acceptable. "And for you?" Well, what else, Pastrami on Rye and onion rings for the table. Right down to the last morsel of meat, it was the best and the rings weren't shabby either. The place was packed and probably 80% were tourist..... us too. The only thing needed now is a little exercise. Back to the snow ridged streets and F.A.O. Schwartz for the "Big" piano performance and a wander through the toys. The greeter, a gentleman dressed as a toy soldier, was a show stopper himself. Looking around, this really is real .... we are here. Time, temporarily, seemed suspended even though the day was moving right along. Where did all of these people come from.
Back on the street with the snow, slush, impatient drivers and cars blocking entire streets, headed for Top of the Roc and the Christmas tree. Four tickets and then up to the top for an astounding 360 degree view. Holyyy Cowww, Central Park is gorgeous under this blanket of snow. It would be hard pressed to be more beautiful. All the way to the Battery, then beyond to the Statue of Liberty and Staten Island was washed in the rose hues of the impending sunset. The air crisp and clear, one could see forever. Unfortunately, aging joints and legs were resulting in the sense of humor slipping. Thank goodness the hotel was "only" 3 blocks away ..... those were the short ones. Everyone took their own route; so with cane in hand, which turned out to be the measuring tool at curbs to determine the slush depth, felt the tenor of the city and the crush of the cattle herd. Actually, the snow ridges at crosswalks were either stomped down or a single tiny path and you are one small salmon swimming against the tide. And this is New York!
Ahh, success and through those wonderful doors. Have you ever been afraid of taking off your shoes, boots, whatever for fear of not being able to get them back on? Right with you!! Collapsed onto that magnificent bed and didn't move for an hour. It could have been longer, I wasn't counting. Dinner reservations were for 7:30, so 3 of us met for a drink while one of us managed to tear himself away from a camera store and race back across town in a timely fashion. As per instructed, ask the bellman for a cab. Some 30 minutes later, we walked to 5th Avenue and found a car. The Original Old Homestead Restaurant is way the heck down 1st Avenue in the meat packing district ..... just 10 tables in the oak and mirrored room. Truly a well preserved and loved place. The decision for which cut of beef took a bit of time. Can't speak for the others, however, the Signature Fillet was incredible.
After a considerable amount of time and finally finished, we were faced with finding a cab. Luckily, one appeared and we piled in. One of the things we had discussed was wouldn't it be great if we found "The Cash Cab". Well, so far, no luck; but he did have the advertisement on his roof. That would have been a perfect end to the day; but the cabbie was a hoot. Listening to our comments, he felt one of us watched entirely too much t.v. which resulted in the rest of us almost falling out of the cab laughing.
Bed and everywhere aches; but, Morpheus eventually arrived and was wrapped in those wings. And the new day all is functional. Needing coffee, stop by to check on their morning before going down stairs. They already had coffee and rolls which would cause a breakfast confusion for me. Finally joined by one, were ushered to a table near the famed "round table" where Dorothy Parker and friends held court every day for lunch. Seems the original table had mysteriously disappeared 20 years before. Well, that's slightly suspicious. Breakfast was fair and due to my misunderstanding they went elsewhere.
Now, the much anticipated Mafia Tour Day ..... think it was actually called a Wiseguy Tour .... set for 10:30 a.m. and that's when things began to unravel. No Patrick [tour guide] and no Limo/SUV. 40 minutes late Patrick arrives apologetic, "the snow, you know"; but he pitches right into history of the Mafia in Sicily right up to Prohibition. Where is the Limo? Wow, it has been canceled for the day. End of story ..... a lost morning, it's noon. Crap!!!! What to do for a couple of hours??? That sense of humor thing is slipping again. Let's walk to the Gershwin Theater for our 2 p.m. performance of WICKED. So, a wander through the theater district sounded about right. The 45 minute wait for curtain was just fine. Had time to read the Playbill for background information and cast members. The light dim, the dragon roars and the music swells!! As for the show, well let's see. The stage setting was workably simple in it's complexity. The casts' timing and execution was beautiful. The principals presented their character perfectly but "green" girl was amazing and deserved every minute of the recognition she received. WOW, what a portrayal. Won't go into the story line, but it certainly plays into the Wizard of Oz and actually fills out the idea of Oz. A standing ovation for a terrific production!!!!!!!!!! Am so very glad I did not look it up on You Tube or the Internet and went in totally uninformed.
To return to the hotel, we were thinking cab ...... lots of luck ..... well, it's only "a few" blocks. Collected our things and walked to Grand Central. Waiting for tickets, we had time to actually see the architecture and watch the people; then, suddenly we were hurrying to our train to find a car that wasn't crammed with travelers. One of us engaged into conversation with fellow travelers almost immediately and for the duration to the end of the line. But what was actually surprising were the two young women who tried to convince their companion to lick the hand pole as they had done. Guess something was missed in my formative years .... but why comes to mind. YUCK!!!! Apparently, this occurred while a crossword puzzle had my undivided attention. And then the conductor announces "New Haven, end of the line".
Hungry and we are introduced to Frank Pepe's Pizzeria and a coal oven pizza. Thinking this must be the best pizza in the world ...... it's cold and there is a line outside. So we wait. Seemed the chat had gone out of all of us; maybe, it was just me. However, with the first bite could actually feel life returning. There is a difference created by the coal .... not the taste but the crispness of the crust but not like a cracker. Eating and listening to the local chatter we seemed to devour our shares. Was surprised there were a few pieces left. Hummm, now the drive to Bloomfield. Sure am glad we were convinced to postpone our return home for a day of recovery. By afternoon, began to reorganize the car and thank goodness the fluids were checked and found terribly low or empty. A trip to the mechanic indicated a serious issue that could have been extremely unpleasant on the highway AND it will not be ready until late tomorrow afternoon. Ahhh, 2 day recovery. All things being equal, no point stressing out. So we will travel on New Years Day. Our last evening together; some t.v., chatting, packing and early to bed.
Eight a.m. rolling southwest for home. "If you turn left on the next exit, we can take 10 to Bridgeport and pick up I-95 through the City." As long as we are going south, that's fine. Just as we crossed a river directions went a rye; instead of going straight across and through town, we missed it completely ending up on the New Jersey Turnpike. Deep breathing, frustration and anger at the lose of film opportunities were replaced later with the anticipation of Philadelphia. Well, shoot, we can go to Pat's and then cross the street to Geno's for our own Philly Steak taste test .... O.K.? Sure, it will be a first for this sandwich which should result in a more honest test. After a bit of wandering and circling the area, we became aware that parking was an issue [bumper to bumper comes to mind] and creativity would be necessary. Do you feel lucky?? Creativity won out..... well, the bumper was just inside the corner curb; and, we shouldn't be gone that long. Famous last words. Lucky us, walked right up to the window, ordered and received. Walked across the street, ordered and received but not a table to be had. Not to be deterred, stood at the narrow counter and began the taste test.
Have you ever been on a maiden voyage ..... that was the experience. One bread had a nice crisp crust and the other had a more moist meat. Personally some sandwiches are better with other "stuff" on it, well, wasn't all that impressed. BUT HEY, it was the home of the Philly Steak Sandwich and we didn't leave hungry. The best part ..... the car hadn't been towed, nor were there any boots locked on the tires. Oh, please, just find the interstate, that is of course if we are finished here. Back on the road headed south. Caught I-495 west around Washington, then right on 66 to Roanoke, Virginia and left on I-81. Before your eyes glaze over, midnight plus 30 and home sweet home ..... 993.8 miles one way ...... yep, 1,987.6 miles round trip...... and it was a not to be forgotten fun adventure; it was Christmas with the family; it was Connecticut ...... Now here we are and it's snowing. Hot chocolate or mulled cider would be perfect about now with a fire don't you think? Join me .......
Sunday, December 19, 2010
.... just listen and keep an open mind, please
Everyone of us have truly extraordinary moments tucked way back in our deepest and safest recesses. You know, those so personally special they are rarely, if ever, shared out loud. Yesterday a reminder came strolling through this house with a familiar smile and a hug. You see, my volunteering with the Boy Scouts of America began in 1980. The years were filled with some of the most remarkable people and experiences; but in the Fall of 1990, stunned comes to mind.
This all began that Spring with a phone call .... "just listen to me and please keep an open mind". "Wait you want me to go to National Camp School for Shooting Sports Director, are you crazy? I'm 50 years old AND female. Our camp staff happens to be the age of my children. How are they going to react to this??? Oh, and if I do this, do not expect me to live in that staff area. The final decision will be my family ... o.k.?" Just to set the record straight, the skills required for this job were learned the first year of my 1965 marriage and honed over the subsequent years. So on that level, proficiency wasn't in question. Is this nutz?!?
And so it began. My housing was a 2 man tent located off to the edge of the Shotgun area by a large tree for shade. Finding a length of hose, the Ranger created my shower into the latrine water system. Wow, that was a real eye opener every morning - holy cow COLD!! [still causes goose bumps]. At the end of busy days, would climb into the rope swing with a good book. Sometimes staffers would come down to share tales of the day or just sit in the quiet star gazing.
Those 6 weeks everybody learned; merit badges were earned, and our little world of shotgun, rifle and archery eventually became a family. However, weather [that wild card element] on one occasion stretched our capabilities to the maximum. A sudden wind, rain, and hail storm swept through. We huddled together attempting to stay dry in the covered rifle area when lightening struck a neighboring teaching area. 30 or so faces were looking at me to "fix it or make it stop". Later,soaked and cold everyone was sent back to their campsites and then the 4 of us [me and the 3 staff] tore through the woods to help with whatever had happened. That day still is a vivid image of sodden unhappy faces expecting me to wave a wand and make life better.
The one thing I didn't expect that summer was the way the staff members accepted me, not as a mom. Most had seen me at other related events for most of their Scouting life, but just accepted me as staff. You know, some moments are rather a rite of passage as well as a farewell to Summer. We had a water tower. What was I thinking. It wasn't a dare, just an invitation to join some of the guys. Oh, yeah, my name was added to the side of the tank facing the lake ..... wow, what a view.
Fall returned with the usual hectic Scouting schedule of troop meetings, roundtables, distinct meetings etc. But that one roundtable, will not be forgotten. Seems the Order of the Arrow was tapping out candidates that night. I went to watch my sons perform this ritual in costume.
Imagine my shock when my younger son stopped at my chair and ushered me to my older son to be tapped. Funny, I had noticed some of the older staff from camp were in the audience .... they were there for me and that made it even more poignant.
Several weeks later, having completed the induction, I watched as my younger son joined the ranks of his father, brother and others by receiving the highest honor the OA has .... Vigil Honor. I haven't spoken of this very often and certainly not in a long time. But yesterday our visitor brought all those memories pouring forth. Funny, the difference those young men made in a life that summer..... mine. They are all grown, some with families; all making a way in the world. I am honored to have been allowed to share that time with them. So, yesterday, we sat and recalled and laughed and remembered .... thank you.
This all began that Spring with a phone call .... "just listen to me and please keep an open mind". "Wait you want me to go to National Camp School for Shooting Sports Director, are you crazy? I'm 50 years old AND female. Our camp staff happens to be the age of my children. How are they going to react to this??? Oh, and if I do this, do not expect me to live in that staff area. The final decision will be my family ... o.k.?" Just to set the record straight, the skills required for this job were learned the first year of my 1965 marriage and honed over the subsequent years. So on that level, proficiency wasn't in question. Is this nutz?!?
And so it began. My housing was a 2 man tent located off to the edge of the Shotgun area by a large tree for shade. Finding a length of hose, the Ranger created my shower into the latrine water system. Wow, that was a real eye opener every morning - holy cow COLD!! [still causes goose bumps]. At the end of busy days, would climb into the rope swing with a good book. Sometimes staffers would come down to share tales of the day or just sit in the quiet star gazing.
Those 6 weeks everybody learned; merit badges were earned, and our little world of shotgun, rifle and archery eventually became a family. However, weather [that wild card element] on one occasion stretched our capabilities to the maximum. A sudden wind, rain, and hail storm swept through. We huddled together attempting to stay dry in the covered rifle area when lightening struck a neighboring teaching area. 30 or so faces were looking at me to "fix it or make it stop". Later,soaked and cold everyone was sent back to their campsites and then the 4 of us [me and the 3 staff] tore through the woods to help with whatever had happened. That day still is a vivid image of sodden unhappy faces expecting me to wave a wand and make life better.
The one thing I didn't expect that summer was the way the staff members accepted me, not as a mom. Most had seen me at other related events for most of their Scouting life, but just accepted me as staff. You know, some moments are rather a rite of passage as well as a farewell to Summer. We had a water tower. What was I thinking. It wasn't a dare, just an invitation to join some of the guys. Oh, yeah, my name was added to the side of the tank facing the lake ..... wow, what a view.
Fall returned with the usual hectic Scouting schedule of troop meetings, roundtables, distinct meetings etc. But that one roundtable, will not be forgotten. Seems the Order of the Arrow was tapping out candidates that night. I went to watch my sons perform this ritual in costume.
Imagine my shock when my younger son stopped at my chair and ushered me to my older son to be tapped. Funny, I had noticed some of the older staff from camp were in the audience .... they were there for me and that made it even more poignant.
Several weeks later, having completed the induction, I watched as my younger son joined the ranks of his father, brother and others by receiving the highest honor the OA has .... Vigil Honor. I haven't spoken of this very often and certainly not in a long time. But yesterday our visitor brought all those memories pouring forth. Funny, the difference those young men made in a life that summer..... mine. They are all grown, some with families; all making a way in the world. I am honored to have been allowed to share that time with them. So, yesterday, we sat and recalled and laughed and remembered .... thank you.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Now, why did they call it a Pound Cake??
Today was supposed to meet cousins for lunch but the freezing rain brought that to a halt. Our conversations are funny memories of relatives we have had in common ..... primarily our grandmothers who were sisters. All the women of this clan apparently were excellent cooks which seemed to have sparked a bit of rivalry .... you know, "that was very good, but mine is better" kind of thing. Aunt Lucy and Aunt Lillie made the best peach cobbler EVER in my humble opinion. BUT my Grandmother [sister Sallie],by far, was the queen of the Pound Cake. According to my Grandfather, she made about 3 per week. You see he had it toasted for breakfast every morning, not to include snacks and desserts. Now remember, this was in the 40's and 50's before Kitchen Aide stand mixers and Viking ranges. She had one of those funny green colored gas ranges with variable temperatures.
Sitting at her breakfast room table during a Mississippi vacation, we waited for the most recent baking to finish ..... nothing like the forbidden slice, still warm from the oven and a glass of cold milk. She would fain fury at cutting a hot cake .... "it ruins the moisture causing it to dry out". Mercy, one didn't last long enough to actually dry out. All the same, that morning the question was posed "Why is it called a Pound Cake?". "That's simple, all the ingredients are a one pound measure".
Since that time have noticed many many recipes for the glorious Pound Cake and not one have the ingredients measured by a pound of this and a pound of that. Perhaps you've noticed this as well.
During a Dutch Oven Outdoor Cooking demonstration, was questioned unmercifully as to what makes it rise .... there isn't any baking powder or soda..... well, that's because there's a pound of eggs in it. And yes, this can be baked over and under coals just the same way it's baked in my oven. It is soooooooooo easy.
O.K., o.k., just remember I'm using my Kitchen Aide mixer and a fluted bundt pan [oiled and floured]. Do not preheat the oven, that's correct, it goes into a COLD oven.
The "Real Thing" Pound Cake
Blend well together until creamy:
1 pound unsalted butter
1 " sugar
Add and blend in:
juice of 1 whole lemon
Add alternating beginning and ending with the flour:
1 pound Swans Down Cake flour [twice sifted]
1 " eggs [about 9 large brown ... weighted out of the shell]
Dump into Bundt or tube pan.
Place in COLD oven and turn heat to 250 degrees for 30 minutes.
Then, increase heat to 300 degrees for 30 minutes.
Next, increase heat to 325 degrees for 30 minutes.
Next, increase heat to 350 degrees for 30 minutes.
Remove and allow to cook on a raised rack, then place plate over cake and invert onto plate. Taa-daa and voila ...... enjoy!
Oven Note: My oven runs hot; so, have discovered the cake is near done [checked with a straw] about halfway to near completion of the 325 cycle and would be very dry and scorched if it continued to cook. You need to know your oven and/or begin checking with a straw so as not to over cook. Straw should come out clean.
Creative note: As Grand Marnier is a favorite of a friend, substituted it for lemon juice. You might at least start with 2 tablespoons and adjust to your taste. Obviously, whatever flavor you wish should work.
A time or two even added cream cheese and swirled chocolate. Am positive my Grandmother was sitting on a cloud wondering if I had lost my mind to take such liberties. But my Grandfather was probably nudging her saying something as to "leave her alone Sallie, she's having fun".
Note to my grandparents: thank you for lovingly sharing your life with me .... miss you.
So, best get busy and throw one together .... it's a Christmas present for a friend! Catch you later and Feast Ya'll !!!!!!!!!!!
Sitting at her breakfast room table during a Mississippi vacation, we waited for the most recent baking to finish ..... nothing like the forbidden slice, still warm from the oven and a glass of cold milk. She would fain fury at cutting a hot cake .... "it ruins the moisture causing it to dry out". Mercy, one didn't last long enough to actually dry out. All the same, that morning the question was posed "Why is it called a Pound Cake?". "That's simple, all the ingredients are a one pound measure".
Since that time have noticed many many recipes for the glorious Pound Cake and not one have the ingredients measured by a pound of this and a pound of that. Perhaps you've noticed this as well.
During a Dutch Oven Outdoor Cooking demonstration, was questioned unmercifully as to what makes it rise .... there isn't any baking powder or soda..... well, that's because there's a pound of eggs in it. And yes, this can be baked over and under coals just the same way it's baked in my oven. It is soooooooooo easy.
O.K., o.k., just remember I'm using my Kitchen Aide mixer and a fluted bundt pan [oiled and floured]. Do not preheat the oven, that's correct, it goes into a COLD oven.
The "Real Thing" Pound Cake
Blend well together until creamy:
1 pound unsalted butter
1 " sugar
Add and blend in:
juice of 1 whole lemon
Add alternating beginning and ending with the flour:
1 pound Swans Down Cake flour [twice sifted]
1 " eggs [about 9 large brown ... weighted out of the shell]
Dump into Bundt or tube pan.
Place in COLD oven and turn heat to 250 degrees for 30 minutes.
Then, increase heat to 300 degrees for 30 minutes.
Next, increase heat to 325 degrees for 30 minutes.
Next, increase heat to 350 degrees for 30 minutes.
Remove and allow to cook on a raised rack, then place plate over cake and invert onto plate. Taa-daa and voila ...... enjoy!
Oven Note: My oven runs hot; so, have discovered the cake is near done [checked with a straw] about halfway to near completion of the 325 cycle and would be very dry and scorched if it continued to cook. You need to know your oven and/or begin checking with a straw so as not to over cook. Straw should come out clean.
Creative note: As Grand Marnier is a favorite of a friend, substituted it for lemon juice. You might at least start with 2 tablespoons and adjust to your taste. Obviously, whatever flavor you wish should work.
A time or two even added cream cheese and swirled chocolate. Am positive my Grandmother was sitting on a cloud wondering if I had lost my mind to take such liberties. But my Grandfather was probably nudging her saying something as to "leave her alone Sallie, she's having fun".
Note to my grandparents: thank you for lovingly sharing your life with me .... miss you.
So, best get busy and throw one together .... it's a Christmas present for a friend! Catch you later and Feast Ya'll !!!!!!!!!!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)