Continuity

Continuity

Recently in preparation for a summer reunion of the Lowell Tech chapter of Kappa Sigma Fraternity (Kappi Xi), an all-out effort was proposed to contact and encourage brothers that have not been seen or heard from in many years to attend the reunion. After several months of dedicated efforts among several of the brothers something became clear. Many of the newly contacted brothers were pleasant enough during the contact but were not going to come to the reunions. Others had just become impossible to get a response or even find where they are.

So perhaps what was seen to be as a desirable goal, that is everyone getting together to party the rest of our days, may not be so desirable to many. Community is often viewed as a visceral commodity. But who communes with whom may not be readily apparent. What was a “frickin' blast'"

in college is actually anathema to those not wanting to look in the rearview mirror of nostalgia and “foolish behavior”.

Retroment for the Baron and Baroness has been reflective of the Von D'Lucci community and family. This context existed before and it looks like, for us, will continue.

Since the sale of the barn in March, “Whither thou goest now?” has begged some form of an answer.

Granted Miami Beach is now “home”, hurricane season and high temps laced with high humidity provide an impetus to head north during the summer. New Hampshire summers and particularly the fall are world-class options. So rentals were arranged in the Newfound area.

There was a “Tenney Mountain Condo” sandwich between slices of Manor Estates. At the end of April the northward trek was undertaken with relatively few stops to arrive in time for our nephew's college graduation.

The condo at Manor Estates (see pic) provided an excellent venue for retromenting and just enjoying the view of Newfound Lake. However the monthly rent could not cover the weekly rate after June 1. Tenney Mt, an abandoned ski area with condo developments, provided a fiscally responsible alternative. After labor day Manor Estates would become available at the lower monthly rate and life would be autumnally rewarded with color and aqua-nimity.

But what about the meat of the sandwich? Our heroes just could not sit still. Not one, not two, but three two-week excursions were travelled. Retro-math yields the fact that six weeks were spent away from our rentals. Economic culpability begs an answer.

The quick response is that this is the first year of such activity, now that the barn is no longer ours. This is an experiment. Okay. Underlying this is a strong current of continuity. The barn was a nexus for the Newfound and Von D'Lucci families. Its physical absence is part of the hope-to-be-brave new world. How important is the convening of friends? Is dinner for two night after night such a bad thing?

The fortnight forays included a family reunion on Long Island; a fraternity reunion in Tully, NY; Manhattan; Fishkill, NY (twice); Annapolis; Norfolk, VA; Floyd, VA; Lewisburg, WV; Newcastle, Damariscotta, Boothbay and Searsport, ME; Bolton, MA.

Maintaining decades-long friendships would seem healthy and important. Getting thrown out for overstaying a welcome is not so healthy but also important.

Here is a sample of one of the journeys.

Which vehicle? The Element or the Camry? To spice it up we decided to trade both of them in for a 2012 Prius with just 18,800 miles on it. However we were leaving the next day and would have to use one of the older vehicles. The Camry would be ruled out because its odometer was at 99,000+ and would sell better with it under 100,000. So the Element it would be. Last heard from our friend the car salesman: “Take care of that car!”.

Manhattan would be our first stop to see Rick. W 71^st, one block from Central Park, is a fine destination. Emotional support for our friend as he closed his business and decided what to do next was also on the agenda. However we were not real excited about the crack in the windshield courtesy of a wayward stone in Connecticut as we parked by the apartment.

Rick and Gini decided to morph into mer-people as we discussed life at the fountain in Lincoln Center:

Crack and all, we headed for Annapolis, Maryland to see John and Diane. Thanks to the miracle of cellphones an appointment for replacing the windshield awaited us when we arrived.

John was the artist/craftsman who oversaw the renovation of the barn and construction of the hot-tub room. Chip's nom de guerre is Charles John. The 'John' being derivative and in thanksgiving for John's expertise, patience and loyalty.

Gini made a significant Facebook appearance piloting their boat on Chesapeake Bay:

Eating, of course, was also a big agenda item. We did take one evening off from cooking by eating at Wegman's. I love it. You pay by the weight of the food. A sight seeing trip to St Michael's provided another day's activity.

Then it was off to Floyd, VA. This is a town about 7 miles from the Blue Ridge Parkway. It thrives on music with a peak of FloydFest in July. Our friends Linda and Peter Baisley live in the area. Peter has a home overlooking the Shenandoah Valley. Linda has her own place and caretakes her 96 year old dad who is a neighbor. Touring, mountain-climbing and farm-to-table-dining were the highlights.

Mabry Mill

 Site of FloydFest in the Blue Ridge

Then it was on to Lewisburg, West Virginia. A former student, track athlete and good friend of Chip's, Luke, was getting married to Christine. They were going to have a variety of events. Thursday night was a meet and greet at an Irish pub in Lewisburg. Much to my surprise there were other Newfound graduates/track athletes, Seth and Carl. These guys had been a key part of the team in 2000 that finished third in the state championships; the highest of any team I have coached.

Touring the next day brought us to Greenbriar. This is a high end resort that caters to the PGATour and, historically, anybody who was anybody including the regularly visiting Duke and Duchess of Windsor. The 'Bunker' underneath the complex had originally been excavated to accommodate both houses of Congress during the years of the 'Red Scare'. Some reporter blew the whistle on its covert existence in the 70s and now serves as a tour stop of the grounds.

The next night was a hoedown at the local Elks Club. What a trip!

On Saturday we were all packed into buses and headed for Christine's family farm. Abandon cellphones all ye who enter here.

My heart swelled with pride at the fortunes of this young man. Christine is amazing and both families made sure everyone felt a part of what was goin' down.

At the party back in Lewisburg later an interesting event occurred. As some may know, Chris gave out a gift bag to certain graduates each year at Newfound. Key components were a couple of “Prole” t-shirts. These were shirts designed by Chris that embodied George Orwell's totalitarian world. The proles were a class of people who were 'under the radar' and seemingly not drawing Big Brother's attention. Luke, upon receiving his t-shirts and embarking on his college career at Boston College, decided he would propagate the Prole legacy and had hooded sweatshirts made. He proceeded to wear his for all of his years at BC.

Fifteen to twenty of the people at the wedding had or still had one of these sweatshirts courtesy of Luke. Upon arriving at the after-party I was wearing my Prole sweatshirt. This drew a little attention from some. One person in particular was commenting quite a bit on the whole Prole business. He was speechless and in denial when I announced that I was the designer. He settled into: “It's an honor to meet you”. I felt obligated to have a beer.

The next morning saw us driving across most of Virginia on a vector to Norfolk. Gini's 93 year old Uncle Buzz and cousins Mike and Mary awaited. This visit was like a grand bonus round. Mike and Mary are just great people. They are extremely intelligent and well read. So much so that I can't get away with any careless attempt at being clever. One has to be on one's toes around this crew and that includes Buzz. The highlight (besides some serious bay seafood) was a visit to the Naval Air Museum at Virginia Beach. This is a privately owned series of hangars with dozens of aircraft, mainly from WWII, of which over 90% are still air worthy.

Buzz had brought one of his three flight books that chronicled thousands of hours of piloting in the 40s, 50s and 60s. The guide was quite knowledgeable but quickly realized one of his charges was the real deal.

That P51 Mustang in the background was supposed to go airborne for some visiting dignitary but we were to be disappointed with any aerial display.

They did, however, have Buzz's craft that he flew on and off aircraft carriers, the AD-4 SkyRaider:

They gave him something the size of a clothes hangar tied to the rear of the plane to hook one of the cables on the carrier deck. Psychedelia has nothing on these flyboys.

One of the best moments was when the guide was explaining the features of another aircraft. Most things on it had to be manually controlled. Buzz chipped in with the fact that it took 27-29 turns on the controller to fully pull in the landing gear. With a smile the guide pulled out a notebook and recorded the little nugget for future tours.

A long drive to Fishkill, NY followed to celebrate brother Tom's birthday with his partner Sandy. He was turning 52 and would be playing with a full deck (so to speak). Sandy claimed that all evidence pointed otherwise.

They picked out a fabulous place to eat that was outdoors and right on the Hudson River. A most enjoyable evening.

Finally we would wend our way home stopping of course at the First Homely House (or Last Homely House depending upon which direction you are traveling). There one would find Rich, Val and Val's mom. It is our Rivendell.

Continuity as a mathematical term makes most people's eyes go in different directions. In math class, though, it was visually one of the easiest concepts to grasp. If you can trace the graph without taking your pen off the paper, that is no breaks in it, you have a candidate for a continuous function.

If you can stay in someone's community, virtual, geographic, anecdotal, familial or otherwise then I believe you also have continuity. Maybe not so mathematical.

Just Don't Call Me Late For Dinner

Greetings:

In the book in which I am attempting to consolidate blog excerpts with literary-minded effluvia of my own creation, I begin with “Call me Baron Von D'Lucci”. Very clever, I know, and with Melville no longer among the living my brashness emerges.

However there now needs to be some sort of amendment, editing or expansion of this appellation. Images of the well-worn traveler could formerly be found on the surfaces of a steamer trunk. Labels veritably leaped (leapt?) to proclaim exotic lands and name-dropping locations. Should one be privy there was always the rainbow stamping of a passport to be perused and either flaunted or envied or eschewed.

America eventually became a bit more plebeian in its declaration of roaming the range and purple mountains majesty with the bumper sticker:

So let us combine this with retroment in the golden years and the desire to be “where you should be all the time”. What is our manifestation of noticing that one is not in one place for a very long time? I think it can be found in the Network control panel. This lists all the networks that you have logged onto with that particular computer. You know when you are at a friend's house, a hotel, the bus, the train, the airport, the cruise ship,...? I counted 115. Concord coach was a bit popular with 'la-vie-en-rose' a bit exotic and 'poolside2ndfloor' a bit quizzical.

Echoes of Thomas Wolfe admonishing that either look homeward or forget about going home altogether start to haunt one.

So is this a symptom? A condition? A fate? The larger the group of retirees gets the more permutations offer themselves to our calendar. Will we be sharks never able to settle and must constantly stay in motion? That camper, or (gasp) motor home is really making sense now. Maybe we should just sign everything over to Ward Bond, get some healthy horsepower and snap the reins with alacrity.

Does visitation history matter? If you have allowed that person or those persons to share your home or had previously visited their home at least once with reciprocation, does that allow for that subtle, clever strategy of inviting yourself? (“They said yes! Well, that takes care of September. What about October?”).

It is said that it is harder to hit a moving target. This could be useful in the world of Kharma; it could be lethal for Publishers Clearing House or Readers Digest. Overstaying one's welcome could become the next reality show.

Since 104% of the readers of this blog are well known to us this could be a form of kinetic suicide.

None-the-less, call me Baron Nomad Von D'Lucci.

Mary Olde Newfound

Greetings. Sometimes you get whelmed. Not over or under but just your basic 'whelmed'. This was the case last night at Foster's Steakhouse in Plymouth, NH. The occasion was Mary Gallagher's retirement. This was the unofficial official version as orchestrated by some key players headed by Natalie Murphy and Carole Heuser.

There was schmoozing; tippling; repasting; re-uning and communing. Most of all there was celebrating. Mary had said enough is enough and in the next world you are on your own. Her ineffable efforts were to become the substance of legend. Most of the people in the above picture had already committed euthanasia on their curriculum vitae. Perhaps the most cogent comment of the evening was delivered by Natalie, “I knew that one thing I was going to make sure was that I was going to retire before Mary!” Everyone empathized with that sentiment. It was mentioned that even when Mary may not have been at her desk for a single day, hemlock became a viable alternative.

The evening was very concise in its tribute. Anecdotal authenticity was provided by Al Blakeley. Though vertiginous in its veracity, he could claim fifty years of being part of a world that included Mary as a student, co-worker and bon vivant. Halfway through his testimonial there was gush everywhere; on the table, the floor...everywhere. As he continued there was no mistaking the energy. This is what was special for all of us. Several members now present had eventually worked for other school systems but could not shake the umbilical nature of Newfound Regional HS or (Newfound Memorial HS if you prefer). Even financial betterment or appealing academic visions could not overshadow their connectedness.

The gush did get quickly cleaned up to prepare for the entrance of the ShutYourVonTrapp Family singers. Under the direction of Cecil B. DeMurphy the family tirelessly rehearsed until they could perform with a controlled cavort. “So long, farewell! There's nothing more to tell

Without you there, the school will go to hell!” rippled through the air with a prodigious foment of mirth. Paul Hazelton's outfit once again proved you can lederhosen to drink but you can't make him yodel.

The denouement was appropriate in its basking. Yes, Mary was the heart, perhaps even the keystone, but what is the true marvel here? As a newbie, only thirty years associated with this crew, with his own extended family (the Von D'Luccis) this was also my family.

So back to the whelming.

In trying to describe my feelings at my own retirement breakfast I remember attempting to imagine life without a school budget, books or buildings. I harkened to the ancient Greeks. One went to the public square in quest of a teacher/mentor. One did not accept just any educator without knowing their mettle. Had this been the case in our present times here in the Newfound area, the above picture would have been the ones most sought. I would like to think that those seeking education/enlightenment would come from miles around and no one would be concerned with the journey.

Miami Beach Gay Pride Parade

“The Stonewall Riots
In the summer of 1969, the New York gay activist movement was born when a group of gay New Yorkers made a stand against raiding police officers at The Stonewall Inn, a popular gay bar in the Village. In those days, gay bars were regularly raided by the police. But on June 27, 1969, the patrons of The Stonewall Inn had had enough...” (About.com – Manhattan, NY)


Well that was 45 years ago and the social consciousness has definitely broadened. Gay marriage and providing for gay partners has become legally available throughout much of the country. Stonewall is now celebrated by parades rather than angry confrontations.

Wilton Manors (see pic) is in Fort Lauderdale and will host the timely (June) parade commemorating Stonewall but Miami Beach has scheduled April for its Gay Pride Parade. And it is one of, if not THE, event of the year. The festivities start on Friday night and of course flows into the wee hours. LGBTQ or Gender and Sexual Diversity reign as the themes for this extravaganza.



Our small group of four started out on Belle Isle and picked up two more at Lincoln Road and headed for Ocean Drive to meet our last member. However there seemed to be a few more people gathering:

Chris went up and down the street looking for the high heel race but it seems that it would not be run this year. He did catch sight of the forming of the parade as they awaited the 12:00 clock start. Some bounders jumped out with microphones and claimed that fire and brimstone awaited most of the participants and they should repent. We all found ourselves wishing that the opening group of lesbian motorcycle riders (Dykes on Bikes) would catch up to them and imprint some serious tread. They soon fled anyway and the festivities were well on their way.

To the literal world (do I mean that literally?) gay is equivalent to fun and the floats imparted that message:

Then there were those who were a bit left of “Whoopee” on the fun spectrum. In some cases the PG rating was in question:

And then there was some serious skin:

It is Miami Beach you know and the weather demands it.



Striking characters abounded. There was your black Adonis:

The groupings were quite eclectic:

and one must say inventive:

We had positioned ourselves across the street from “The Palace” on Ocean Drive. It is on the corner opposite the Hotel Victor and as night establishes itself so do the female personators at The Palace. They drift through the street and sidewalk crooning, flirting and entertaining the tourist crowd. The cabaret had placed a podium outside on the sidewalk and a hostess to entertain their party crowd. This is Division One for this type of entertainment and they do not disappoint.

Midway through the parade the Marshals made an appearance. They would be Gloria Estefan and Kenny Ortega:

An impressive array of paraders included the Miami Beach Police and Fire Departments along with Emergency Squads; many high school Gay/Straight Alliances; University of Miami and Florda International University; the local NBC affiliate; TD Bank; Coca Cola and proud parents holding signs proclaiming their love for their gay children.

There were some who were more memorable than others. A unanimous “Wow!” was awarded to:

One must give front and back perspectives.

Some of us were very much caught up in the fun and frolic:

Well, nobody's head exploded but we sure had a lot of fun. Next year's resolutions include a float for Provincetown partiers and bubble makers. We are all in that rainbow flag somewhere, the exact location not all that important. Peace.

Zeno's Paradox or Close to Closing?

Greetings – it is getting close – the prevalent breeze is details...details... Then what will be the personal punctuation? Is this how a semi-colon feels? Let's not talk about colons or winters.

Paper work is not working at the moment and it is being determined in a meticulous fashion that we:

• have not run a mortgage-bundling operation during the notorious 1990's;
• create an environmental hazard in the next ten or twenty years in the back yard;
• give the two acres we own next door it's own name
• and procure a defensive secondary wizard in exchange for Kevin(12 years a tenant)

Oh yeah, the details. Eventually the house was listed at a price that generated interest very quickly. If all goes as scheduled, on March 28 the barn will belong to an artist from Vermont (who we have yet to meet) and right of first refusal on the two acres next to it.

Exit from Miami Beach is this coming Tuesday. Carol Dunn and Ken Chorney are coming to the rescue (among others) to bring us home. A concerted effort will be made to clear out the place, cross those t's and dot those i's. Crossing eyes and dotting tees will hopefully be avoided.

Track practice starting on the 24^th means possible mixed feelings for this surprise return. Both of us dread the weather but we will have a lot of company. So now I guess we're a little closer...

Art Basel

Greetings – This is an excuse to get writing again. Art Basel actually happened in early December but it is a fine topic for a posting.

The “Basel” in Art Basel is Basel, Switzerland. Forty years ago three art gallerists organized an exhibition of famous, established and rising artists. Within 5 years three hundred exhibitors participated. It quickly became on a par with the Venezia Biennale in the international art world. A little more than 10 years ago it expanded to the Miami area.

Since it was a December event the Baron and Baroness were not previously available for attendance since their Miami Beach arrival was usually scheduled for the new year. With the ‘great leap southward’ this year taking place in November, one of the top priorities was Art Basel.

With the Murphy bed beckoning, Rich and Val were invited to share in the festivities. These two had been instrumental in exposing much of the culture for B&B in the Miami area.

Rumors had been circulating that this would be the last year for the art celebration. In trying to verify the factualness of this claim it became obvious that the organization and distribution about the event was almost haphazard. Finally a local magazine published a comprehensive guide and the group was all set for exploring. It was also ascertained that this would not be the Swan Song.

It was decided that the numerous formal invitations to the opening of the new PAMM (Perez Art Museum of Miami), the VIP party at the convention center and various hotels would have to be ignored due to lack of cachet. This did not prevent the attendance at the public opening in Collins Park.

Sculpture and performance art were the main items. This included the truck from the movie “Duel”:

One very interesting Tug of War (she’s winning effortlessly of course):

There was even a performance piece in a vaulted structure now-become-a-chapel with Catholic confession as the ‘art’ being performed (hmmm).

The next day’s foray was made to “INK”. This is printed-on-paper material of all varieties. It was wonderfully hosted by Suites of Dorchester on Collins Ave:

As you can see this is the courtyard. Visitors wandered from suite to suite with the offerings ranging from a few hundred to tens of thousands of dollars. It was an engaging, casual atmosphere with a SOBE ambiance. And, best of all, it was also free!

Concurrently, our own Abondonza von D’Lucci (Katy Richard) was coordinating our meeting a Lafayette, LA artist named Francis Pavy. Francis’ gallery was exhibiting his work and he would be in attendance.

A real artist… be still my palette! The Baron became the contact person.

It was decided that the big bucks would be laid out for the Design Miami and Art Basel exhibitions. Design Miami was essentially interior design which included an entire house on display in the showroom (maintaining its interior qualification). Of particular curiosity was a, at first, familiar grandfather clock. Upon waiting a moment, the image of a man of modest age appeared behind the frosty clock face and observers were regaled with his erasing the current hands of the clock and the redrawing of new ones depicting the current time:

On the hour he ‘drew’ the new time and then produced a small hammer and struck a bell above the clockface. We were told there would be a cup of coffee drunk at an appropriate hour. Of course there was a partner Grandmother Clock. Too cool.

Val found some appropriate furniture:

Art Basel was our next destination. This was the convention center itself and it would be where we would meet Francis. Given the fact that there were several acres of exhibition space at the center, it did not take too long for rendezvous. The art was overwhelming; essentially a modern Uffizi. The best part was getting Francis’ impressions and discussing our own.

Eventually it was decided to call it a day and home for dinner. Francis joined the crew as they partook of a feast concocted by Richie. Prior to their arrival, the request had gone out for sheets of pasta to be obtained on a given day. Gini successfully found Mr. Pasta on 73^rd st in the Normandy Isle area. Richie bravely rented a Miami Deco bike and wended his way up the island and survived to return with sheets safely stowed.

Note the impressive presentation.

Francis agreed to meet with his gallery owner over in Miami at the Art Miami portion of the extravaganza. With fluid southern charm he announced our VIP status and produced passes for Art Miami and a couple of other events.

At times it was hard to tell what the organizational differences were among Art Basel, Art Miami and other large scale exhibits. However, one was guaranteed to find something interesting in all of the venues.

Francis’ work did not disappoint:

This picture was copied from his Arthur Rogers gallery site (http://arthurrogergallery.com/artists/francis-x-pavy/). Recommended is a perusal of http://www.pavy.com. Arthur, himself, was introduced to us as Francis continued to charm and enlighten. A nice night at Balan’s provided the site of our adieu to the Atchafalayan artist. Laissez les bons temps rouler.

The Wynwood art district was the next destination. This is located very close to the Art Miami site and sits between Midtown Miami and Little Havana. Ordinarily a destination of its own sans Art Basel, the neighborhood was dynamically engaged with the festival’s itinerary. Mural artists in mid-spray abounded. Richie did a fabulous job capturing the flavor with his camera and okayed the viewing of the following shots. Thank you muchly.

Of course the foray began with a photographic gallery. Votes were entered as to personal favorites before venturing out to other galleries. There was art from Africa, Asia, South America, local, extra-terrrestial, well…maybe not extra-terrestial.

Richie took an interesting approach in that he would capture the art, yes, but more so the artist and the environment.

There was a PB&J food truck to give credibility to the import of the day:

There were “pop-up” items such as a gallery in a free lot space:

or an instant hat shop:

Then there is the media:

This section of Miami has become one of our favorite spots. It has incredible ambiance:

It is alive with sensibilities that vibrate with life, passion and compassion.

Done hours after his death:

Peace be to us all.

The area does announce itself:

Should you be in the area that café is highly recommended (Wynwood Kitchen and Bar Food).

Watching them all work was a treat since it is serendipitous when you come visit Wynwood outside of Art Basel week.

The men:

Performing art?

The women:

Then there is someone we called The Master:

 

Certain shots were just a capture of unique moments discerned by the observer and our Mr. Beaubien has quite a good eye:

Of course we had to succumb to the allure of owning our own art. Francis was our first choice. Negotiations are going well but this may not be the right moment for such a serious purchase. So the next best choice was to bargain with “Captain Phil” in a sandlot pop-up gallery. His initial two hundred dollar proposal for the work on cardboard was halved and the five foot by five and a half foot piece was secured. Gini, Rich and Val were insecured as there was no room for anything but the painting. It was delicately curled and maneuvered into the Element. Chris then had to negotiate Art Basel/Miami rush hour traffic across the Venetian Causeway then home. He could not help but chortle (chortles are like that) at his predicament:

 

Trip number 2 was equally successful as the humans were collected and transported home. After much serious collaboration about the method of display, the living room scenario echoed the aesthetics of the week:

However, there is something to be said about the expansive and perhaps essential nature of South Beach and Miami. This was displayed by a nomadic group whose incipient query must have been, “Where’s the art?”: