To Boom Or Not To Boom

“..to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them.”

….How the hell was I supposed to know that this ‘sea of troubles’ would be my hip and my heart? I never checked the fine print.

Naively and romantically I thought that arms would be wielded for good versus evil; championing the downtrodden; obliterating ignorance; tilting against formidable odds while clad in a loincloth and a hint of mascara. Who knew?

Currently no peer communication is complete without a diagnosis or prognosis, a therapy, rehab strategy, prescription or mystical chant. Now some of this is pretty serious when cancer and stroke populate the conversation. These realities require attention, support, time, assistance, empathy and courage.

The rest of it forms an anecdotal spectrum of boomer existence.

“Well they went in to repair a rotator cuff and then they found out the tendon was almost completely torn..”

“Oh yeah, the lining in my heart just exploded. I felt fine, a little tired but okay. When I heard there was an ambulance coming I asked who was it for, they said ‘For you!”

“You have atrial fibrillation. This is the ‘common cold’ of heart ailments. Would you care for an ablation? Why of course! Do you have Bombay gin?”

“I was just bending down to sit on the toilet when, suddenly, I couldn’t move..”






Having a partner really helps.

It’s amazing what you now need two hands for – even three or four.








And, oh those second opinions:



But back to our favorite Dane (that would be Hamlet or Victor Borge – your choice). What is so ‘outrageous’ about our fortune? Could it be the lack of staff? Where is that valet and why is snow shoveling not one of the corporal works of mercy?

The big reality check is that Jack LaLanne is not immortal. Granted he made it to 96 but wasn’t that supposed to be a brief stop along the way to Elysian Fields? Desire may be our streetcar but there still lurks outrage. And how do you sling it anyway?

Now some of you out there may have just run a half-marathon, gotten a new job or are knee-bouncing grandchildren as we tweet. You are the levees against the sea of troubles. Just like Mr. LaLanne you brazenly wave your manacles and continue to tote that barge. The heck with the bales.

It’s not a level playing field is it? Individually we are counting our blessings and trying to remain positive. Collectively we are hoping that social security isn’t the equivalent of “I’m all in!”. Cashing in the chips may be the hardest part.

If we’re having a great time, why isn’t everybody here? If I’m having a bad time, why won’t it stop? Roseanne Roseannadanna comes to mind – “ You know Mr. Baron, you sure do ask a lot of questions!”

Kevin Ups The Ante

Maybe it is something we do that we are just not very aware. This is our housemate from NH, Kevin. He had not been in Miami Beach for even 12 hours and this …occurred.

We had just dropped Bob off at the airport earlier in the day. Janice and Gini decided that the condo needed some ‘sprucing up’ so we planned to head to the mainland and tour Target’s, Marshall’s, et al in search of spruce.

These plans were a bit delayed when Kevin called at 11:00 AM to tell us that the sub zero temps in Manchester were still giving his 7:00 plane problems with freezing fluids. Gini went into travel-agent mode and verified that he was ‘protected’ for a 3PM out of Atlanta. So shopping-ho! First a lamp for the bedside ($12) to sit on the new plastic bedside table ($7) and what wonderful fold out chairs for the balcony ($8.95 apiece)!

Kevin’s new (first for him) cellphone allowed us to eventually find him outside Arrivals. The trip home (7 miles) took 90 minutes. As some of you may know, two Miami police were shot and killed last week. Well the funeral cortege was a little behind schedule and backed up traffic most of the day.

Having left -13 degrees to bask in 70 degrees, Kevin could care less about delays and traffic. Upon arrival martinis magically appeared and soon we were wending down West Ave towards Oliver’s Restaurant, a local haunt. After two carafes of Pinot Grigio Kevin anonymously paid for dinner. We took to the streets and soon Kevin was in the embrace of that banyan tree. Through careful instructions of Flamingo Park security we were able to extract him without any permanent marks.

Coffee at the Van Dyke on Lincoln Road ‘calmed’ everyone down and we managed to survive his arrival.

The next day, we walked to the ocean to verify its existence and wandered through the fresh under construction James Ave area that Janice and Bill came very close to putting in an offer. At the Albion Hotel we walked along the side of the bottom of the hotel pool and looked through the portholes in the walls with Kevin pleading for nude bathers.

The big excitement for the evening was to head to Lincoln Road for the opening of Soundscape Park and its Exostage outside the New World Center. The park would open Tuesday night with the concert hall opening the next night for its resident orchestra the New World Symphony.

The building was state of the art with the park intended for people gathering in the park to enjoy the sounds of the live interior performances along with video projected across the 7000 foot screen on the outside wall. It was a Spielberg moment:



This projector provided the video as we enjoyed its first emissions:



Notice along the left what looks to be some columns with a header. These were the left speakers (the whole column) that matched another set on the right. Gershwin’s Porgy and Bess filled the night – cool.

The whole project for the park from design to this evening was about a year. The benefactors wanted the cultural experience of the symphony to be a community experience. Pergola were designed to emulate the puffy clouds of Miami Beach and were seeded to be covered with bougainvillea (soon to come):



So as not to let the elite be the only one to experience live music we were soon koochee-koocheeing to a Cuban salsa band:



We had never heard Guantanamera played with such intensity, speed and rhythm. Yeah baby.

So tonight we will try and be good and stay home and Chris will cook spaghetti carbonara for Kevin, Janice, Paul and Gregg. The guys’ apartment is being painted, among other projects, and would appreciate benefiting from someone else’s kitchen.

So What Did You Do Next?

We got your Vizcaya heah – kinda like Venice ya know!

Brother Bob will attest that Vizcaya is a special place (Feb 2010-So What Do You Think of Miami Beach?) but this time it was the special Moonlit Garden Tour. We met Paul and Gregg at the gardens and proceeded to bask in the ambiance of a cloudless Miami night.

Here are some of our heroes enjoying a moon over Miami:

Paul and Gregg

The Baroness and the Baron

Gini wants you to know that the Baron is having a good time despite his aversion to posing for photos.

Chamber music splendiferously filled the central atrium of the villa as we entered. We then proceeded to wander lazily and wondrously through the property:





Bob is slowly being conditioned to the South Beach experience. Having left zero temps and an appreciable accumulation of snow his first priority was acclimating to a t-shirt and shorts. He is struggling but making progress.

He definitely likes the walking excursions in the morning. Even the Baron has acquiesced to participating in the perambulating parade. Yesterday’s reward was gelato on Ocean Drive.

As this is written Gini and Bob are heading for a nighttime swim in the heated of the two pools here at the Flamingo. Perhaps they will resolve the competitive activity of this afternoon’s pool table skirmishes. They were rather rowdy I am told.

Chris had opted for the movies once again. The list started with True Grit, then the Tourist followed by The Fighter (great Lowell ambiance). Today was the best so far, The King’s Speech. Colin Firth once again, with the estimable help of Geoffrey Rush, transfixed. (Last year’s A Single Man was incredibly powerful but too much to be seen twice - like Sophie’s Choice). This movie was interesting because of the historical situation of Edward VII abdicating the English throne because of his desire to marry Wallace Simpson and the subsequent coronation of his stuttering brother Bertie.

Chris also did a full tour of the Venetian Islands on his bike today while Gini and Bob explored Espanola Way and South Pointe Park. Tomorrow is more walking and laundry.

As for settling in to the apartment there have been some rough spots. Parking was tough. Last year a parking spot was included after much gnashing of teeth but this year they have foregone the gnashing and charged us $160 to park two towers over.

The dining room light did not work. This was not discovered until the second night when Gini had cooked a great dinner and we had retired to the dining table. However the management company was right on it the next day and Chris was able to dust off some Spanish as the staff person repaired the lamp.

With Kevin, our tenant and major sport nut arriving on Monday, we were a bit disappointed to find that basic cable meant we could follow the weather, watch Jeopardy and practice our Spanish a bit more. Gini is going through HGTV withdrawal but is handling it well. Chris is another story. Since the Patriots lost he is inconsolable and needs a good golf tournament to bring him out of it.

So tomorrow night is dinner at the restaurant at Paul and Gregg’s condo building. They have promised bacon wrapped fillets as a treat. Martinis will have to be libated along with mirth and merriment slated for coalescence.

And So We Continue To Continue

Greetings:

Beautiful bridge – no? Well we had other thoughts as we headed for Charleston from Rick and Hanna’s.

Once again we were weathering the new winter in the south. It was snowing (since the top of the page) when we left Murrell’s Inlet. The storm was heading north and it looked like rain the rest of the way to Florida but temps looked to be in the upper 30’s to low 40’s. Well some unfortunate motorist slid into the wall on this bridge (Ravenel Bridge over the Cooper River in Charleston SC). Given the fact that everyone in the Carolinas was in denial that this weather was even happening this bridge and any others crossing this river were closed until they could find some trucks loaded with salted sand. This search and subsequent dispersal took the rest of the morning and some of the afternoon. Foolish New Englanders, we, who did not even suspect that this would bring traffic to a standstill.

Well it afforded another trip to 5 Guys and eventual trekking through downpours in Georgia and northern Florida. We arrived safely at Mary’s (Gini’s step-mom) in Winter Park, suburb of Orlando. She was more than pleased to see us and several bottles of Perrier-Jouet Champagne (quite excellent) were dispatched over the next few days.

Some of the visit was ritualistic – a visit to Mary’s friend Saul’s Mexican restaurant where we were treated as honored guests; a movie (The Tourist – could not resist the Venetian ambiance); lunch in Winter Park (French and fanciful); and visit with Nadine and Frank whose son Chris was one of our Miami Beach cohorts until he went and became a resident doctor in Pittsburgh this past year.

A new wrinkle in the festivities was Gini joined Chris for 9 holes at Winter Park Country Club and proceeded to outdo him by four shots on a par 3 by chipping in for a par! This course is the second oldest in Central Florida and is in the heart of Winter Park. Last year Chris had gotten to know some of the nearby residents and transient motorists from his errant links wizardry.

Mary was eventually bid farewell and Miami Beach soon loomed ahead on I 95. Paul and Gregg were ready with martinis and open arms. They were fresh from hosting Gregg’s life long friend from high school in Poland but were still graciously offering to share their beautiful apartment on Belle Isle with us for a few nights until we checked in to the Flamingo. For those who do not remember or have not seen this view it is spectacular:



We were also able to hook up with another friend, Rick, who harkens back to Lowell days.

And then the Flamingo:



Our wonderful balcony view:


As a tolerant gesture we turned off the air conditioning.

We Be Off

Greetings All:

Gini and I are actually well into our winter sojourn. It has mostly been visiting friends and family, some whom we have not seen for several years.

Our Christmas was a bit different. We were quite pleased to have Chip home for the holidays but we were not so sure he enjoyed it as much. At the age of 25 he had his tonsils removed and it took well over a week before his familiar smile returned.


Tom and Michele Wolfson were able to join us, my brother Tom and tenant Kevin in welcoming in the new year. After all had left we spent a day emptying and cleaning the refrigerator; draining pipes and packing the car. Somehow we exited Bailey Road relatively close to our planned ETD on Jan 4.

Our first stop was at Linda and Arthur’s. These are friends we met through Gini’s sister Janice many decades ago. We are probably talking double digits in years since we had crossed paths. They live in Montgomery Village, MD and graciously put us up for a night as we drove through the DC area. Linda served a ‘regular’ meal as we enjoyed steak filets, potatoes and vegetables along with some good wine. She reveled in demonstrating her skills on an induction stove and confidently placed her hands on the active ‘burners’. We were duly impressed and placed it on the fantasy list for our future, mythical and somewhat legend-to-be condo in Miami Beach.

Conversation settled quickly into the rhythm of former times. Children were, of course, the leading topic. Their Amanda had just recently graduated from College Park and was now hoping for the economy to begin embracing our educated youth. Linda continues to work the intricacies of medical grants and Arthur works on the internet proffering automobile purchases.

In exchange we discussed retirement, Gini’s part-time job at Dressers Unlimited and Chip’s imminent completion of his MFA in Chicago. We had pictures of his Urban Quiet final project. It was only during the holidays Chip had finally convinced Gini to view these pictures since the weather had become too cold to pursue any more footage. The project consists of photos and videos of Chip crawling up Chicago building facades and along the underbellies of skeletal bridge structures.


May the universe allow a safe pursuit.

We had only the one evening with Linda and Arthur and headed the next morning to Murrell’s Inlet in South Carolina. Waiting for us there were Rick and Hanna who we had spent New Year’s with at the beginning of our trip last year and had visited at their New York home this past summer for the fraternity reunion. They had just bought a new house close to the place they had for the past few years. (hmm, weren’t we moving furniture last year at this time with them?). They arrived just a day or two before us and had efficiently organized the move so that we were welcomed into a fabulous home ready for their first guests (an honor).

Rick and Chris, of course, headed for the TPC at Myrtle Beach once again (see last year’s blog). This time the weather was a bit more forgiving. Hanna and Gini continued to shop for the finishing items for the new residence and we all managed to partake of martinis and fresh oysters while line dancers regaled us to a live band.

We also went back to BrookGreen Gardens where we had seen so many wonderful sculptures last year (Jan 2010 – Happy New Year! Is the Furniture Here Yet?). Hanna and Rick wanted us to learn about the ‘Silent Cities’ there. And once again we did our part to confuse South Carolinians about global warming:



The gardens were created in the twentieth century by an artist (Ann Hyatt Huntington, sculptor) and had a previous history as four rice plantations. Our tour guide indicated the boundaries of the old estates and had us envision the land from centuries ago as most traces had been covered over. The focus of the tour were the cemeteries (the silent cities). The contrast between the burial styles of the owners versus the slaves was dramatic. The planters used the European style of above ground structures:



The slaves from that era do not have many above-ground remnants save a few headstones provided by the owners. Their African beliefs had the bodies buried facing to the Atlantic and in natural settings. Markers were of small stones, cement, iron objects, all of which were lost to the natural terrain. However their descendants have requested to be buried there and have since added headstones and other interesting markers:





Thankfully there was hot cider at the refreshment area after our excursion.

Our last evening in Murrell’s Inlet was having dinner with Rick and Hanna and Hanna’s parents who we enjoyed very much last year and once again this year. We love their stories about their life in Poland, Brooklyn and New Jersey before coming to Myrtle Beach.

Orlando is next.

LouisBoston Meets 2001 Odyssey

Greetings:

When we last left our hero (“Where Were You In Your 60’s?”) the laudatory echoes of second graders were dopplering as he fled into the sunset. Memorable, but destined to be unique, it will be fondly remembered. However it will not have achieved all time top ten status regardless of the pride or bemusement.

“Saturday Night Fever” caught me reminiscing about an occurrence that would make the top ten.

Once again planted in front of the television, my retroment is stimulated by flashbacks. Tony Manero is doing his stuff….and lookin’ good.



As for the flashback…

It was ‘Carnival’ week at Newfound Regional High School. That meant it was the week before February vacation and class spirit would be ubiquitous during the multiple competitions. Each class would try to out-game, out-exuberate and out-energize the others. Bragging rights was the reward.

There was always a theme. The theme inspired hallway decorations and daily dressing. This particular year it was the movies. Hollywood and movie environs transformed the corridors. One of the daily themes was to come to school dressed as a favorite movie character. Well alright!

Now given the fact that I have 359 dvds in my Netflix queue and that I came within a phone call of trying to be a professional film editor instead of an educator, I felt that I had a vast reservoir of choices. Of course, costuming would be a key determinant.

This could be an opportunity to incorporate another satisfying moment in my life. While living with Gini before we were married my father had expressed concerns about my getting a job. (We are now into the second layer of flashbacks). Though exploring the role of a ‘kept man’ had its allure, I had to agree that I should be proactive. My father wanted to know how I dressed for interviews. I told him I wore nice slacks, a shirt and tie. “You don’t wear a suit?!”. (This from a man who prided himself on his professionalism as a pharmaceutical rep).

“Dad, I don’t even own a suit!”, I proclaimed defensively.

“Look, get a suit. I’ll pay for it!”, was his exasperated rejoinder. The wheels began turning. It was 1972, we aspired to being and looking like hippies. Our fashion consultation reciprocated the determination that the purchase had to be a three-piece suit. Several phone calls to the metropolitan Boston area revealed the fact that three-piece suits would not be casually found on the racks.

We escalated our criteria and headed for that hallowed haberdashery, LouisBoston. Its century plus existence begged our business. One can only imagine the look on the parking valet as we arrived in a Volkswagen Beetle and handed him the keys.

No sooner had we entered the store and asked for three piece suits when we were met with the response, “Someone must have told you about our new arrivals from Paris”. Yes, they must have…

After indicating that I wanted a suit just like the salesperson was wearing I was soon being custom fitted. Sure we will take the three silk, you-have-to-tie-it-yourself bowties and, by the way, how do you tie a bowtie? Dad was a bit speechless when he got the bill but to his credit barely complained.

My first trial run with the suit was when we had traveled to Long Island to present Gini to my Italian grandmother, the mystic. She was charmed by Gini (of course) and was appropriately impressed by the three piece suit:



Replace the shirt and bow tie with a wide-collared red silk shirt and a gold chain and I was an avatar for Tony Manero. With the aid of a paint can and a boom box I was ready for Newfound’s Carnival. (back to level 1 of flashbacks)

Each morning at the high school the students would gather in the main lobby since the hallway doors would not open for them until first bell. Teachers were sequestered with the day’s lesson plans in their classrooms appreciating the temporary isolation.

The computer lab, my classroom, was the first one on the left from the double doors to the lobby. When those doors opened with the bell I turned on the movie soundtrack and boldly strode towards the oncoming horde, swinging my paint can and struttin’ in my suit.

“Stayin’ alive! Stayin’ alive!”…

Thankfully one of my cinephile students got the portrayal and chortled it aloud (chortled?!). Though the hall lights did not diversify and strobify I felt compelled to dance. Awe, incredulousness, antipathy…it is hard to describe the reactions. Most stayed in the vicinity to take it all in.

Somehow at the appropriate bell the boom box was silenced and “Tony” entered the computer lab for the day’s lesson. Of course there had to be an encore so at the end of first period the boom box was re-established in the hallway and “Stayin Alive” was played to its conclusion. “How Deep Is Your Love” faded quickly as second period began.

Feeling quite pleased with myself (and a bit out of breath) I assumed we were now back to a normal day. We had a bit of a laugh first about the dancing but settled into our routine.

As the period was about to end there was a knock at the door. It was the head of the food service from the cafeteria. We were good friends so even though I had no idea why she was there it was nice to see her.

“Are you coming out in the hall again? All the ladies want to see you dance.”

Cue “Night Fever” and call my agent.

It was a blast.

Where Were You In Your 60's?

Greetings All:

You would think that this man has reached a significant milestone, some kind of stone any way. He looks hale and healthy. This was from visits, salutations and exhortations of many friends and relatives during August and September. The Baron and the Baroness both turned 60 while celebrating 37th wedding anniversary. Feasting was the daily fare.



Nostalgic music inspired Sex Pistols air guitar and body surfing at the dining table:



Well then let us settle in and recount the early days of the current experience of the 60’s.

Atrial fibrillation, staggering back/hip pain, substitute teaching 7 year olds and submission to pyramid kharma schemes on the internet. Is there no end to the refulgence of the Golden Years?

Well, let me set up my newest piece of writing as a segue.

Chip gave us a call and said that we had to see Spike Lee’s “Passing Strange”. Described by the Internet Movie Data Base (IMDB) as: “A young black artist leaves his Los Angeles digs and travels to Europe to find himself. A theatrical stage production of the original Broadway musical.”

There is a strand that ties the protagonist to his relationship with his mother. Art rapidly emerges as one of the primary themes of the musical. Chip said he cried for twenty minutes after seeing the movie the first time.

He then proceeded to call us for the next two days asking us if we had seen the movie. Meanwhile he had seen it five times. With this kind of pressure we had to watch it. We loved it and I felt particularly inspired to write about my own perception of art in my life.

Chip said he really liked my response and I was pleased that our artist son found pleasure in it.

Scene: Bridgewater Hebron Village School, Fall 2010


Context: Written response to Chip

Greetings:

“…You know it’s really weird when you wake up that morning and realize that your entire adult life has been based on a decision made by a teenager!...” (quote from “Passing Strtange”)

Let me pass this ‘strange’ anecdote by you.

“Greetings Mr. Duggan, I was wondering if your name had been placed back on the sub list.”.

This was the opening line of a phone call I received on Monday. Somehow she convinced me that I would appear the next day to look after ten second graders. This despite my decision to not volunteer for subbing because of the stress associated with teaching and going back to work and having to earn money and recently having atrial fibriulation and..and… there I was on Tuesday morning at 7:45. What am I…stupid?

I knew the teacher and she was there to greet me.

“You know I don’t think you are going to like this but thank you for doing this.” She then proceeded to point to piles of paper, indicate lesson plans, gesture towards various texts, explain the nuances of the options I could exercise with each one. The spinning of my head was quite quiet. There was barely a breeze. I am sure she felt that she had explained all the necessary instructions and that ‘Mr. Duggan’ had absorbed it all. Yikes! I felt like Arlo Guthrie going through his draft physical from Alice’s Restaurant.

The official starting pistol was the Pledge of Allegiance. I silently but respectfully weathered it. And then began the process of surrendering a pedestrian view of the day and becoming immersed in Gwen, Alaric, Corie, Christian, Skyler, Jack, Levi, Hunter, Adele and . Collin was absent.

Levi, self-appointed, came over and shook my hand and welcomed me to the class. He was careless of whether he had an audience. He thought this was the right thing to do.

As the day unfolded I realized I could write ‘Q.E.D.’ on the day like it was a math proof: ‘Quod Erat Demonstratum’ – ‘What was meant to be shown was shown’. And that was subbing at the elementary level took too much energy.

My immersion was complete, however. I, too, became careless of an audience. I referenced my craft to accomplish the assigned material. But my immersion was complete. Craft led to the release of my soul. No matter how close chaos crept no matter how dynamic the traffic became, my soul led the way.

They sat, listened and questioned as they were benedicted with Roman numbers, the Greek alphabet and the mobius strip crescendo. Lessons were accomplished; learning was celebrated and demonstrated.

This is my art.

And it was about to become too real.

“Mr. Duggan…He’s awesome!”