Summer of Love

Coming back from California to life on the east coast was a bit of a rude awakening. The heat and humidity were horrible last week and then it thunder stormed almost daily. What am I doing here, I asked of myself. And then I remembered, to go to NEW YORK CITY of course and to see HAIR at Central Park’s Delacorte Theatre. You may remember that last year, I stood on line for my two free tickets to see Midsummer’s Night Dream where I dragged my husband whose enjoyment of Shakespeare could be compared to preparation day before a colonoscopy. This year, I saved him from his husbandly obligation and invited friends who actually wanted to see the show. I may be nuts, but the waiting in line doesn’t bother me. I never mind being outdoors on a nice day where I can read a book, meet interesting people, and fall asleep when I need to. My good friend Kim was just as eager as I was to see HAIR and agreed to the early morning start and long wait. We packing lawn chairs, some fruit and umbrellas and settled down to our spot. Our neighboring line-mates included singers and a cocktail waitress from a supposedly famous bar in the Village called Maria's Crisis Piano Bar who had finished work around 4 am, had the typical greasy breakfast and went directly to the line around 6:30 am. Coming straight from work, the waitress was decked in a black sequined pants suit being the snazziest dresser on line by far. They were quite entertaining. After surviving a torrential thunderstorm around 12 noon, Kim and I were handed our two free tickets each and drove home to rest up to return for the evening performance with our two friends, the lucky recipients of the other tickets. I saw the original version of HAIR back in 1969 but for some reason, it didn't make as much of an impression on me then as it did now. I loved this HAIR. The songs were fun, the production was lively and the set was colorful. I knew each of the characters from somewhere in my life. I remembered the music and yes, the nude scene, but had forgotten the story and how sad it turns out. A group of free spirited hippy friends (the tribe) are protesting against the Vietnam War when one of their members, Claude, receives his draft notice. Claude is torn between making his parent's proud by serving his country or burning his draft card like his other male friends. The play not only depicted the era perfectly, but also captured the idealism of youth. Life gets serious after school is over and sometimes it is met with confusion and rebellion. Things haven’t changed in 40 years. Seeing HAIR was the culmination of a truly wonderful day. So in case anyone wants to try it here are the tips I am passing on to get the tickets: • Bring a low lawn chair, some snacks (if you want), a good book, and rain poncho (or a big plastic sheet for cover). • Arrive no later than 6:30 am. • You can bring your own snacks but there is a deli that will deliver to the line – no kidding. The line monitor (the guy who tells you what the rules are) will give you the number and a delivery person on a bike brings your order. • You can leave the line to go to the bathroom, which is by the theater but you are not allowed to leave the park to go to Starbucks (unless you make friends with the line monitor who overlooks your Starbucks cups when you return). • No one can join you on line to get tickets unless they came with you in the beginning. • When tickets are distributed at 1 PM, go home, take a nap, shower and return with the lucky friends who you have chosen to be the recipients of your extra ticket. A picnic in Central Park (they allow wine) before the performance is the way to go. Lucky friends should provide the food as you were on line all day. • Know what you are waiting for. There were two productions this season, Hamlet and HAIR. To pass the time, and make friends with the line monitor, I asked him to tell me a funny story about waiting in line. He told me of a guy whom this week, stood on line for the usual 5 or so hours, got his tickets and went to the evening performance of HAIR thinking he was going to see HAMLET - and complained about it. At the end of the show, the performers invite some of the audience to come and dance on stage to the song “Let the Sun Shine In”. You know I was up there. Kim even got a hug from Claude! Maybe I’m crazy, but I didn’t mind the wait. I had to see HAIR. To me, it was sooo worth it.

Home ?

Every time my husband and I go on vacation we think about what it would be like to live in the place we are visiting. So far we have considered a move by the beach at Newport, RI, to a hilltop villa in Tuscany and now, a small home or townhouse in Carmel. I can’t believe it took me so long to get to California but maybe the reason why is that I would love it so much that I would have wanted to move. California is awesome. We arrived in LA, drove to Solvang, stayed in Carmel, went on to Sonoma and ended in SF. I didn’t have a bad meal and loved seeing the view of the water everywhere. I realized I should never pack for my lifestyle but for the lifestyle I am going to (no dresses necessary). I spent a lot of days in fleece. My husband grew a beard, which actually looks very nice. There is still so much we haven’t done in CA and so many restaurants we have yet to experience. I thought Point Lobos was the most scenic place on earth. Tony loved the scenery of Monterey and was also excited about the Red Bull motorcycle race at Laguna Seca. I know he imagined the thrill and beauty of Highway 1 on a bike. I, on the other hand, would be happier on a cable car in the city. The narrow, winding road around Muir Woods which we mistakenly took thinking we were going to the Pelican Inn which was only 100 yards from the base of the road did me in. Next time, I will read the map more carefully. Everyone at home seemed to survive without us. I give my kids credit. We arrived Saturday morning on the redeye to a perfectly clean home and no signs of the parties that probably took place at least once or twice (or more) the last 10 days. I don’t know what they ate but in the fridge I found 5 boxes of ice cream (all different flavors), a carton of hot pockets and the leftovers from the dinner I made 10 days ago. So be it. Part of the enjoyment of the trip was thinking of how I would love it if the kids would be there too. There in is where the problem lies. We could move to the city of choice and enjoy the breathtaking scenery and perfect climate, or move to where the kids wind up. It is hard. My mother stayed in the same house she bought with my father until the day she died. Tony’s mother was in 14 houses, mostly in Florida, all within the last 20 years. I don’t know what feels right except that for now, I hope to travel more until I do know what I want. Next year, I want to go to California again. We’ll see. Family In Sausalito

California

It is finally here. The vacation I have planned since February starts tomorrow. Tony and I are going to California. The itinerary is to start in Solvang (the land of the movie Sideways), drive up the coast to Sonoma and end in San Francisco. Tony will be going to the Laguna Seca motorcycle race on Sunday. I, luckily, have a cousin who lives in San Francisco who will enjoy keeping company with Tony at the race while I am tooling around town with his lovely wife. I have never been to the west coast except for business and that wasn't much fun. Tony hasn't at all. The kids, oh yeah, they will be home alone. Honestly, it doesn't worry me that they are home. It worries me more that both my husband and I are traveling together. A feeling of danger came over me this week. My organizational skills kicked in. I'm flying to the land of fires, mudslides and earthquakes. What if I don't come back. I quickly pulled out my will. OMG, it hasn't been updated since 1997 when Anthony was 11! This will not do. Even if I am not around, I can't be leaving this planet without a plan. I know this is morbid but I am a realist and need to have things in order. I called the lawyer and asked to have the will updated before Tuesday. He said not to worry, most deaths occur within five miles from one's home. Very comforting, very lawyerlike. I typed up a While We Are Away sheet of things the kids should know about the house (empty dehumidifier every day, when the garbage is collected, where the electric panel is and what it does, who to contact for what). I have an emergency contact sheet that is hung up on the cork board in the laundry room. It once included the phone numbers of the nearest relatives, schools and doctors. It now includes my lawyer, accountant and financial adviser. I'm hoping they won't have to use it but just in case they should know I was thinking about them. I would have loved to have taken them along but schedules between 3 kids and 2 adults gets impossible to coordinate. Last year, I planned a week in Newport thinking the kids would join us. They didn't. It's okay, I get it now. I'm thinking they wouldn't want to go to the places in CA that we would be going to anyway (maybe). I'm packing tonight. My husband always tells me I overpack. Well what do you expect when I read that the temperature is 88 degrees during the day and 55 at night. The Mark Twain expression "the coldest winter I ever spent was the summer in San Francisco" keeps popping into my head. I like to be prepared clothingwise for anything. Doesn't everyone take 6 pairs of shoes? When we come back, we will have some new pictures, some good wine and hopefully, we will all be safe. We're California Dreaming, on such a summer's day.

Live from NY

Last night was awesome. Went into the city with another couple to our new favorite restaurant in the meatpacking district. They have waiters that make you feel as if you were in Italy and the cuisine is a special Italian. You have to go. Upon arriving home a little after 11, Tony and I decided to watch a little Saturday Night Live before going to sleep. Lo and behold it was a rebroadcast of the very first SNL hosted by George Carlin in honor of his death this week. It is one of those rare times when you stumble on something good unexpectedly like when you get that parking space only steps from the front door (and its not handicap). It's your lucky day. The show was a little raw but the original players were all there - Belushi, Curtin, Radner, Chase and others. There were two musical guests, Billy Preston who did Nothin' from Nothin' and Janis Ian who seemed a little nervous singing At 17. I was trying to stay up long enough to see if they did the weekend news segment but I couldn't. In any event, it was great to see the show again even for a little while. SNL made it acceptable to be home on Saturday nights when you didn't have a date or a place to go. Now, it makes me feel good when I can stay up to see it for at least the first half hour.

Still going

Birthdays are not always magical but I can say, I had a nice day yesterday for mine. The day started when I came into the office to find my cubical decorated like this: They do this to everyone in the department so we all get a chance to look silly for the day. There is a committee (yes, a committee) that cooks up some goodies and buys bagels and muffins to bring in. Then it was home to my loved ones. It's always a good day when I can get my entire family to be with me for dinner but, being it was my birthday the kids all made an attempt to be there. We had a lovely dinner (which I made) and had nice conversation, and a few laughs. Three awesome kids, one great husband and many good friends. Life is good, and I'm so not done yet.

Woodstock 2008

I've always been a little embarrassed about my going to Woodstock in 69. When I tell people I was there, everyone wants to hear my story. Unfortunately, it really isn't a story worth telling except for the fact that I somehow got there, saw a handful of acts and came home. That alone though makes me bigger than a rock star to my kids and their friends. This weekend I went to Woodstock - the site of the actual concert in Bethel Woods. It has been almost 40 years and being it was covered with half a million people and I was dodging rain a lot, I remembered little of the actual topography of the farm . I was nowhere near the stage and spent most of the time hanging out with people I had met, keeping dry. (See my post from August 17, 2007). But I wanted to go to Woodstock and see the site and new museum. I bought tickets for the Ringo Starr concert that was to take place this past Saturday. In 69, I was in a VW bus with 3 girls and the guy driver. This time, I’m with our two good friends who own a beach front home in Newport and my husband in our E-Class Mercedes. :-). The concert, although I looked forward to it, was secondary. It was the site and museum that was the draw for me. As we exited off the highway, a neon sign revealed that the concert was canceled. The truck carrying the equipment broke down at the Canadian border - they said. Well okay now. Sometimes life works out. The museum was very well done. It took you through the early 60s leading up to the Woodstock weekend with memorabilia and photos of the festival, and then progressed to how the festival influenced life afterwards. The artifacts included the 3-day tickets, like the ones I still have, with their price of $6 per day. There was a copy of the programs that never got distributed. There was a list of the original line up that changed last minute when the first act got stuck in traffic forcing Richie Havens to open the festival. Towards the end of the museum, a little booth with a computer was set up to allow Woodstock alumni to relate their experience. I clicked on a couple of the stories and found I wasn’t the only one who didn’t see many of the acts, swim naked in the lake or get stoned on acid. There were others, just like me, who were there with people, they may never see again, at what turned out to be an experience of a lifetime. Aside from the great, overpriced T-shirt I bought in the gift shop (click on the picture above to get a good look at it), I left with a renewed feeling that I really was lucky to have been part of something good that embodied my generation and will never happen again. When we left, we went to the spot where a monument was placed where the stage was to have been. A woman offered to take the picture of the four of us in front of the plaque. She said she overheard us talking and realized I was at the concert. She wanted to hear my story. So I told her, although I didn't know it then, I know now, it was far out!

26 Years

I was a June bride. A little corny but I was. I always wanted to be married in June. I had my wedding dress picked out when I was 17. It was a variation of a style my mother made for one of her customers, only more beautiful because my mother made it for me. It was a very simple silk, jersey gown that was cut on the bias, somewhat full, from the neckline down. The material gathered with a belt my mother hand-beaded in the design of the Greek key. She told me later that when she started to cut the material, her expertly skilled hand shook. I remember my mother yelling at me while she was making the belt. I was so skinny then and every time she went to fit me, I had lost more weight . I was so nervous. Not because of getting married. I was just worried that I wanted everything to be perfect. I think the belt would go around my thighs now. On June 5th 1982, the day was hot, humid and raining horrendously. Unlike the strapless, backless and shear gowns of today, the dress my mother made had long sleeves with a high neck. Heaven forbid any part of me was exposed prior to my being a legitimately, married woman. She was proud, prim, and proper. I was sweating to death. Last Thursday, Tony and I celebrated our 26th anniversary. We went to NY for cocktails and dinner (guess who's idea that was). The evening started as it usually does when we go into the city, with us stuck in traffic for over one hour and with my husband swearing at everyone that can't move fast enough or change lanes quick enough. He hates traffic jams and it happens on a regular basis when we go to the city. But it was our anniversary so he bit his tongue and I tried to keep him amused. We discovered a few new places in the Meat Packing District where the crowd is not all under 30 (or under 35 or 45 and so on) and the females (like me) are women not waifs. We had cocktails here and dinner here. It was great. We laughed about being together for 26 years and not having anything in common. I pleaded with him to get an apartment and move into the city. He showed me his ideal house plan - this. We are hopeless or maybe hopelessly in love. I suppose if we continue to go for cocktails and dinner, we could survive the rest of our lives like this.