When In-laws Turn 90

The first week of February we flew to the east coast to celebrate Mark's Mother's 90th birthday.  Mark is one of seven children, and his mother has thirteen grandchildren and fourteen great-grandchildren (of which The Child is the oldest).  Almost everyone—including the Florida nephews and nieces—was able to come to the celebration, which lasted several days over the February 3 weekend; there were upwards of fifty people spanning four generations in the Suffern house.  

Probably the best way to describe the gatherings in full force is "a frat party with lots of theatre people."  Or possibly a slightly grittier version of backstage at The Muppet Show.  

Since there were so many relatives scheduled to attend the fancy birthday lunch, there was a raffle to "sit at the captain's table" with the birthday girl.  Since the instructions didn't specify a limit, Mark proceeded to fill out multiple tickets with his name on them.  This sparked a loud discussion among his sisters about the interpretation of the rules and whether Mark was stuffing the ballot or not.  During this time, The Child (at least) wrote Mark's name on an extra ticket, and somebody else submitted a ticket labeled "Anyone BUT Mark."  

When the tickets were drawn, Mark's name was drawn five times (six if you count "Anyone BUT Mark"), and after a consultation, Mark's Mother decreed Mark disqualified.  

"I've been sent away!" said Mark, "Banished."  Smeagol-like, at the fancy birthday lunch, he sat down at the captain's table and pretended to lick the forks.  

The lunch was a hearty Italian meal, with several courses (I had salmon).  The strangest aspect of the party was that it was the same venue as Mark's Mother's 70th birthday, but the room seemed smaller somehow. We couldn't figure out if the room had been painted a white back then and that the now red walls made the space seem closer, or if there had been some slight remodeling or additions.  

Afterwards, Mark and I took late-afternoon nap; the news of which alarmed one of the precocious young nieces, who firmly announced to her mother that she "did not take naps."  We rejoined the family at the Suffern house, which by this time, through the piano magic of one of the nephew-in-laws, had turned into a kind of piano bar with sing-alongs—I don't know what happened, one moment I was chatting in the living room, and then next moment I had a solo singing "Don't Cry For Me, Argentina."  The requests poured in—"This Land Is My Land," "Part of Your World," "Under the Sea," "Piano Man," "Bohemian Rhapsody," Scottish ballads— and folks were still singing when we left at midnight.

The Big Party

At 8:30 AM most of the folks who had spent the night arose and prepared the final touches for the house.  And ate bagels.  My main task was reinforcing the cardboard house from the day before.

All of Mary’s seven children (from four states) and most of their children, and some of their children, appeared at Mary’s house.    I made a list at some point to try to get all of the names and relations fixed in my head… in any case, there were easily fifty people, from age one to age eighty-five, at the party.

As the party geared up into the early afternoon, I found myself giving tarot card readings.  I lost track, but I must have done at least seven readings.  For most of the readings I used a nine-card spread:  two cards crossed at the top representing inner and outer states or starting point and obstacle; and seven cards arranged in a horizontal line, the first two the past, the next three the present, and the final two the future.  The Sun, The Lovers, and The Hermit cards came up a lot, as well as the Hierophant.  I’d say the teenagers were the most difficult to give readings to, partially because they seemed to be more curious about what it was I was doing and less focused on any particular question.

While tarot happened, there was also face-painting.  Mark’s oldest brother received a nutcracker effect that was very alarming and frightened some of the younger children.  He second oldest brother was made up to look like a (slightly less alarming) tiger… there was some talk about having a lion and a bear, but this didn’t materialize.

I was one of several photographers snapping shots of visiting relatives.  My camera’s strength is that the zoom lens allows me to take pictures of folks without them realizing it, so they are less apt to pose in an unnatural fashion.  I think my best shots were of a great-grandchild looking out of the cardboard house, and possibly the hawk that alighted in the tree we were partying under.  Other folks took better portrait photographs, I think.


The Child held a contest to see who could do the best Fortnite Dance.  There were badminton games, and bocce, and a water slide, and general visiting.  Dinner was grilled cheeseburgers and corn, prepared by “Chef Sean.”

As the evening progressed, the talent show began.  We had group sing-a-longs on the deck.  Mark M.C.’ed “Mary Jeopardy” and I led everyone in the Oregon 1983 version of “The Shark Song.”  More singing with the piano happened inside.  And then the karaoke machine was wheeled out.   Probably the most painful song was Tom Jone’s “Delilah”;  probably the song everyone got the most into was “Bohemian Rhapsody”; probably the most soulful song was John Denver’s “Country Roads.”  We had fun with George Micheal’s “Faith,” and “Get The Party Started.”  There’s video.

Last Minute Prep and Arrivals

Mark and The Child went off to New York City for a final hurrah there (during our entire vacation, the Child had not yet been to be The Big City).  They ended up in The Bowery taking a very interesting tour of some Tenements from 1880 and 1930, on a tour called “Hard Times.”

The second most interesting thing about the tour was that the rooms were very small, and the bathrooms were more like outhouses on the side of the building.  The most interesting thing from the 1930’s tour was that in one Catholic tenement,  there were statues of Mary, paintings of Jesus, and an image of FDR.

The oldest son of Mary’s oldest son appeared with his wife and four children around 11 AM.   The oldest child was six, and the youngest was one.  After some initial shyness, the two oldest children (H. and A.) managed to talk me into a Kung Fu session.  Since the only Kung Fu I know is actually the “John-Fu” form “Crouching Dragon Reaches for the Chocolate,” I had to make do against them with superior height and weight.   This was sufficient to deflect their strikes and brush them aside to the carpet.  For about an hour.  At one point I did pick both of them up and “throw them into the volcano crater,” (an overstuffed chair), but they were immune to lava.

In the back of my mind, I recalled that The Child also used to enjoy being pushed over onto a resting futon, and would have dearly loved if we could have catapulted him across the yard… except that when he was six I want to say he already weighed 70 pounds (which was probably twice as much as H. and A. combined) and I hadn’t been working out at a gym back then.

I am not sure how much longer the Rumble at the Dojo would have lasted, but we were directed to color and put together a cardboard house.  Outside.  With no karate chops.

More relatives arrived, and Mark and The Child returned from their New York City Adventure.  The evening concluded with lots of pizza.

Suffern Interlude

I was thinking that I’d go to the MET today, but I was so tired from walking seven and a half miles all over NYC, that I revised my plan as I was sinking into slumber.

I got out of bed kind of late.

The Child had been whisked away by other relatives to Atlantic City, so Mark and I were temporarily childless.  

We did some final yard maintenance tasks.  Mine involved taking a square shovel and edging a flowerbed that was going to be repurposed as a seating area.  Mark is more clever than I am; he is able to rise early in the cool of the morning and is able to be done with most of his tasks by 10:30.  By 11:30 the heat and the humidity make working outside tiresome.   The heat is not so bad, but the humidity is.


I reviewed various pictures from The Morgan and deleted the ones that were obviously blurry, or were less-desirable duplicates.  I’m wondering how pictures taken with my phone will compare to the ones taken with my camera.  I think my phone’s shots are clearer, but have less resolution than the ones taken with my camera.  The camera’s zoom lens allows for better distance shots, but the phone seems to be able to perform better in low lighting situations.

Chatted with Grandma Mary about PERS and religion.  I hadn’t realized that she was in a PERS system; I thought it was an Oregon thing.   On the religion subject, we agreed that when twenty-somethings find what resonates with them spiritually, their zeal can be a bit much sometimes.  
Then I did some blogging.  I must have been more tired than I realized, because in review of what I wrote, I left out a lot of pronouns.

Writing Day

I woke up with a sinus headache under my left eye.  I was fairly congested, and I’m not sure from what.  I also had a tension headache in my neck, which I’m attributing to riding in Melissa’s car with too low headrests, looking at mobile devices, and possibly hanging a camera around my neck for a while.

I took a walk around the block to try to clear things up.  Mary’s house is near the border between New York and New Jersey, and it’s possible I walked into another state.

After a yoga session, Mark did some more early-morning weeding.  I did some lopping and got the last few branches hanging over the house.

I spent some time writing a short story about Aliens; the story is congealing slowly.  And skimming through old manuscripts to see how much editing they needed (a lot).  During times like this, I can hear Jay Lake saying, “Finish what you begin.”  I have too many manuscripts on my hard drive that I’ve started, then lost interest in, and allowed to languish.

Child of Streaming TV

Mark woke up early and did some weeding (I think).  I woke up later and after some breakfast, I continued to hack back the forsythia Melissa wants trimmed.

The Child has discovered “Lucifer” on Netflix.  It’s Neil Gaiman style gallows humor, with gritty situations.  Mark decreed that it was too psychotic (as in the characters purposefully psychologically harm the other characters) for binge watching, and so The Child is only allowed one episode a day (and I’d have to agree, given the show’s attitude toward the tortures of Hell).  I’ll have to ask The Child if he discovered this series on his own, or if one of his friends suggested it.

The writing in it is kind of snappy; they could tighten the show with less pans of city-scapes between scenes.  It’s a police-procedural show on an episode level, and it wants to explore faith, identity, and family dynamics on a season level.  The acting leans toward soap opera melodramatic, with occasional moments of character development.   I’ve noticed that the guest villains are typically stereotypical “nice” people, like professors or children’s show hosts, with dark underbellies--so the show’s tone typically veers from snarky to jaded.  … and the writers seem to have a thing for impaling characters on rebar.

The titular character is very cute — (there are some nice fan service scenes), and goes back and forth between naive alien (“you mean this works like this?”), savvy manipulator, and amoral selfishness.  The actor has played a character on the Dr. Who reboot, but it’s an episode I haven’t seen.
I’d have to say, however, that the reception of the show at Grandma Mary’s was frosty at best.

Acclimation

Mostly a recovery day.   Some folks went to work or summer programs.   We did some pre-party yard clean-up.  Mark’s mother, Mary, is having an early 85th birthday celebration, and many family members will come visit to help celebrate on the 10th.

Melissa has a list of things that she’d like to have done.  This is mostly yard work that involves branches that are too high and hedges that are too tall.  There’s also a bunch of windows to clean, and vacuuming.

We have taught Melissa to play the card game, Loot.  The object is to sail merchant ships filled with the most gold home.  Pirate ships can attack, and pirate captains and an admiral complicate the play.   She’s pretty good at the strategy, and has won the last two games.   We were playing with three folks, the minimum, and the game gets trickier when there are five or more players.

Bear Mountain Lodge

Monday, Aug 7

Originally Mark and I were going to have a date in New York City. I  had hit upon the plan to visit the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens so Mark could show me his favorite plants from his last visit; and then we could visit the Brooklyn Museum to see their Egyptian Wing, which I've only seen for about twenty minutes over a decade ago.  But they were closed Mondays.  Mark didn't want to go to the MET or The Cloisters, which were the only museums in the city which were open.

Mark suggested that I go to the MET by myself, but I said that I had been looking forward to seeing something with him.  We were further constrained by needing to be at Kevin and Jackie's this time to actually meet with Jackie and their older boy.

The Internet came to the rescue with a picture of the Bear Mountain lodge, which looked like the Mt. Hood lodge and which was not on the other side of the state (actually, we'd driven close to it when we'd gone to Storm King).

Off we went.  It was raining.  Mark said that he'd actually run around Bear Mountain Park when he was on the high school track team, and later attending dance (and drinking) events in the lodge.  As we visited various locations I could hear the partial recognition in his voice.

The weekend had not been kind to the grounds; abandoned garbage was strewn about grills, picnic, and parking sites.  Mark suggested that we should create a photo exhibit of the site as patrons left.  I added that we should print the pictures, crumple them up, and litter them around the site so that patrons could participate in an interactive art installation.

Mark was worried that a kid's camp (or ten) might be having a field trip, but we pretty much had the park to ourselves.  It's possible Bear Mountain Park was also a state troop headquarters, as there were a number of state and police vehicles parked there.  We got out and tried to not look suspicious.

The mascot of Bear Mountain Park is a black bear with a (walking?) stick.  The Arts and Crafts buildings were mostly built by the WPA during the 30's out of river and glacier stones.  The impression that we were looking at a relative of the Mount Hood lodge was much stronger now that we were seeing the buildings in person.

We wandered around a carousel building; I took photos through the glass windows.  The carousel had panels along the rim of its canopy which appeared to be moments in Bear Mountain history.

From the outside, the lodge looked like a rustic version of Rivendell.  As we walked toward it, we saw a flock of large black birds roosting on the roof.  At first we thought they might be ravens, except they had necks like water fowl.  When some glided from the roof, they more like cargo planes.  It turned out they were black vultures.

The inside had had a face-lift in the eighties or nineties, and was kind of bland.  There were a couple of places in the stone walls where arched doorways had been filled, and a new square entryway had been cut out.   The main dining hall, however, still retained most of its Arts and Crafts charm--I especially liked the fireplace.  The furniture was rustic and cute.

We had lunch -- unfortunately, the sound system was tuned to a 24X7 Grateful Dead channel.  Mark remarked that we were probably the only two Eugenians who wouldn't appreciate the music.  It became more painful to listen to as lunch progressed, but at one point it was instructive as I explained to Mark how some Deadheads would be "Waiting for a Miracle" outside of live shows.

Afterward, we strolled through the Zoo and Historical Park.  Probably the funniest signs were for the Rattlesnake Display ("What would you do if it broke?") and the Clovis Hunters display with a gropey mastodon absconding with a busty Clovis woman.  I'm pretty sure we alternated damsel-in-distress versions of "Oh Halp! Halp!" with fits of giggling for about five minutes.

I'm trying to think of what in Oregon is like Bear Mountain, and the only think that comes to mind is the Eastern Oregon Nature Interpretive Center...or maybe Wildlife Safari...  except you walk everywhere and there's a swimming pool.  So I guess it's like a cross between a summer camp and a natural history museum.

We saw bobcat, weasel, several types of owl, brown bears, coyote, snakes, frogs, bald eagle, red-tail hawk, and all sorts of trees.   The brown bears were particularly interesting because the older one looked like a two dimensional Native American bead.

There was hardly anyone else at the park; every five minutes or so we'd bump into one or two other people.  The park is on the Appalachian Trail, so a good portion of them were hikers with giant packs.

At the far end of the park we came to a toll bridge.  The toll booth and highway maintenance building next to it reminded me of a German Schloss and an an Arts And Crafts Studio respectively.  Hiking was free, so we walked along it, singing "Yodel hey hee hoo!"

The gorge fell away and we were suddenly five stories above a river.  Stickers on the girders directed the suicidal to a hotline phone nearby.  I wondered who would jump off of the bridge--were they local townsfolk, and where was the nearest town, anyway?  Any how many were enough to justify an outdoor, on-the-bridge hotline?

I almost took a picture of a large butterfly resting, somewhat sheltered by the wind and rain, on the railing next to the bridge's walkway, but I opted to just enjoy it.

Back to Suffern

Saturday, Aug 5

We woke up, finished straightening up, said "So Long," to Maria and Mike, and drove away from the beach house.

Mark said, "There go the Canadians" as a white SUV with Montreal plates passed us on the Garden Parkway.   We then re-worked ABBA's Voulez-Vous into a song about geometry and beaches:  "...We've drawn it by the sea, it's intricate geometry  / drawings in the sa-aand. / triangles, circles, squares, arcs, hexagons and pentagrams / lure Canadia-ans! / Voulez-Vous, uh-huh... "  

Back in Suffern, it was a day settling in with unloading, laundry, napping, and reading.  I'm continuing to enjoy "The Golem and the Jinni."  Of course, as a writer, it's hard not to notice the occasional turn of phrase that stands out to me and watch the characters' emotional characters (which I wish I could do better--I'm seeing how, if this were my story, I'd clutter it with eye-candy and technical asides about the magic).  

Yard Work and Bocce

Sunday, August 6

I woke up after erotic dreams involving a tree house and somehow being late to provide technical support for The Child's school...

I padded around the house and made tea.  Mark's mother's house has various singing floorboards, which are good for honing early-morning ninja skills.

I'm sure I wrote something...

Sunday was a yard-work day, Mark and The Child mowed the lawn, and I pre-groomed it by raking up all the fallen twigs.  Then I spent some time with an edging tool cutting away the grown over sod from rectangular marble pavers running along the side of Mary's house.  I had a vague notion that I'd do the entire path, but the sod was thicker than I expected and I only really got about five done.

That evening was supposed to be a home karaoke night, but somehow that didn't happen.  The Frullaney Family (three generations) visited for dinner and bocce.  Team Opera Glasses (Carolyn and me) beat Team Stooges (Joe and The Child) by about three points.

Navigating Monday

Monday (6/15).  Today's big adventure has been navigating around the neighborhood of the Family Manse without getting lost or involved in a collision.  It's actually not that hard, but I do have to make an effort to navigate by street name instead of by landmark, which is my normal way of getting around.

My time sense is a little off.  I'm waking up around 9 and going to bed around 11, which feels late and indulgent until I stop to remember the time zone change, at which point it feels virtuous.  I'm hoping that I can stick to the relatively early schedule when I return.  

The visiting relatives over the last four days have gone back to their respective homes.  It was nice seeing everyone again; I haven't been out this way in about eighteen months, when we flew out for the Christmas Holidays (and got caught up in various horrific holiday weather).  We're staying with Grandma Mary and her two daughters, Melora and Melisa.  Melissa has a daughter, Kristina.  Melora's son, Kevin, visited with his wife, Jackie, and son Evan.  We've been seeing a lot of Veronica, Melora's daughter, and Veronica's husband, Joe; and Kevin and Veronica's dad, Ray.  Mary's other daughters, Maria and Mega, visited.  Maria and her daughter, Devon, drove up from Pennsylvania.  Megan and her two sons, Marley and Masio, drove down from upstate.   Mary, Melissa, Maria, Kristina and Devon went into the city to see "Wicked."  

We've had a boatload of home-cooked meals.  

2011 June 29 - Wednesday

This was Playland Day! Family fun since 1928!






Visiting Playland is a Dwyer Tradition. When I first met Mark's family, one of the very first things we did was go to Playland. I'm not sure when they moved into their current house, but previously, at one point in the 1960's, the Dwyers, then a family of three, lived near the old amusement park.




I enjoy the rides (although I would have enjoyed a few more had I been wearing my contacts), but what I like about Playland are some of the old attractions from the early 1920's. The Dragoncoaster is a mostly wooden roller-coaster. Part of the attraction (?) is that people were shorter back then, so sometimes it seems like I'm about to be decapitated by some of the wood beams in the ride's structure. I think what I like are some of the old posters for the Dragoncoaster; but the really cool thing is that the operator controls the ride with a Really Big Lever -- I think it's about four feet long and it looks like you need to work out a little to move it.


The architecture of Playland has an Art Deco feel to it. I like the light tower at one end of the arcade.








But what I remember most about Playland is the carousel -- it's from something like 1910. I had romanticized the horses, because reviewing the pictures I took, there's something frantically wild about these ones. They all are pulling hard against their reigns, and their eyes have a sad, terrified, or calculating cast.

They reminded me of the carousel from Something Wicked This Way Comes, and in my storyteller's mind, I wonder what invocation has bound these beasts to the wheel -- and had it been some wicked enchanter's trap or had it been a well-deserved punishment?


We stayed until the park closed.

2011 June 27 - Monday

Cookies for breakfast! (Again.) I mean; there I was. It was morning; the cookies were there, and it was breakfast time.... Actually, now that I think about it, I probably had a bagel, too.

Mark and most of his siblings went into The City. I'd opted out in order to have a more relaxed day.

I'd noticed when we first arrived that Grandma Mary's gutters were overflowing and probably needed to be cleaned out. Cleaning the gutters took a little longer than I expected, because I had to take apart the drain pipes and remove all the decomposing leaf material. Taking them apart didn't take nearly as long as trying to put them back together.

Once I finished that chore, I decided that I would have a soak in the tub. And read my newly purchased Atlas of Ancient Civilizations. And eat a Double-Chocolate Klondike Bar. You know, that Cat in the Hat had something going there when he ate cake in the tub.

Heh...

"Do you like Green Eggs and Hammurabi?"

2011 June 26 - Sunday

Post-Wedding Game Day!

To accommodate all of the Dwyer relatives, many folks pitched tents and camped in Mark's Mother's (Mary) back yard. There were lots of New York Bagels (with cream-cheese) for breakfast. The newlyweds came by for a post-wedding visit -- which was pretty amazing, since the wedding lasted until at least 1 AM.

When the Dwyers gather, there's usually lots of party games. Folks gathered mostly outside on the porch and a general atmosphere of "Brunch meets Cookout" ensued. The kids and some adults had their faces painted -- the kids as bunnies and the adults (or at least one of the "adult" kids) as a wolves.

And then it was time for the newlyweds to go and pack for their honeymoon to the Caribbean. The next thing everyone knew, there were percussion instruments everywhere. I had a giant conga drum. There were other large drums -- and a collection of tambours, cowbells, clacking sticks, and other noise-makers suddenly materialized in the hands of the kids. I want to say there were bubbles, but I might be splicing that in from earlier in the day.

Kevin and Jackie slowly walked down Mary's driveway. By this time more tribal face-painting had occurred, so they were followed by what might have looked like a cross between The Muppet Show and Cirque du Soleil. At about 2 PM. I think we nearly caused three fender-benders from drivers slowing down to rubber-neck at the spectacle.

Kevin and Jackie drove away to a cacophony of jingling rhythms.

Afterward, there was smoke and fire.

2011 June 25 - Saturday

Saturday was Wedding Day.

Mark has six siblings: Micheal, Melora, Matthew, Melissa, (Mark), Maria and Megan. Melora's son, Kevin, was getting married to (his now wife) Jackie. One of these days I should get some genealogy software and draw a picture of where all the aunts, uncles and cousins fit.

The wedding was fun. Since there were so many family members traveling from Mark's Mother's house, someone arranged a party bus. It had curving benches side-winding through its length and a big vertical chrome pole in the back. Yes, Mark and I both did about five seconds of pole dancing on the bus. Um, yes; there were drinks on the bus. And a music-driven light show. I think it was a good thing Mark was on the bus with his wedding invitation or the bus driver would have been totally lost.

There was pre-wedding discussion about the flavor of the minister, but based on my automatic responses to the service, I'm sure she was Episcopalian. The service was short. Jackie was a beautiful bride in a traditional white dress and demi-train. When Kevin, was saying, "For better of for worse," a golfer plunked a ball into the nearby lake.

The food was endless. The music was mostly fun -- there were times when I did wish the DJ would turn the volume down and talk less -- but there were stretches when the music made me dance. When the beat is fast and the words aren't too stupid dancing is what weaves the world.

Apparently there was an unofficial competition about who the best dancer was on the dance floor. My personal opinion was that of the three people who I thought were the best dancers on the floor, Joe F was the best couple dancer, the tall young woman in black was the best line dancer, and I was the best veil dancer. And everyone was slightly worried that I would throw my hips out (um, yeah; I did feel a little pull the next day across my left front hip).

2011 June 23 - Thursday

Woke up at 10 AM after minor dozes. Being nocturnally inclined plus being three time-zones east is a difficult thing. When we visit Mark's relatives in Suffern, it's way too easy for me to stay up late. Thus, it becomes way too easy for me to get up late.

There's cable TV here. We don't have a TV at home, much less cable. I tried to watch Game of Thrones and The Lightning Thief. I decided that Game of Thrones was going to be too edgy for me in terms of visuals, and that I'd enjoy the story more if I were reading it.

The Lightning Thief was cheesey and the Young Adult structure kept jumping out at me, especially the "I'm the female romantic interest, therefore, you must defeat me in armed combat" part. There was more parental angst than Bambi and about as many Greek warriors as Troy. What I found somewhat troubling was the teen-hero's dyslexia and ADD were explained as being a result of being hard-wired to be a Greek Demigod. Indigo Children, anyone?

After I turned off the TV, I edited a short story manuscript and thought about its structure. I'm tempted to cut out the first scene because it feels like a lump of exposition that the story has to drive to to get to the plot. I want to keep it because I don't want to confuse the readers.

---

Ate too many Klondike Bars.

Ride In Style

Look! It's me at Playland (last week) on a Really Old Carousel -- er, I think
it's from 1910. Playland factoid: Tom Hanks in "Big" uses a fortune
telling machine in Playland to turn himself back into a child.

Skyline Park Concert

2010-06-10 Thursday

This was a flight recovery day.

In the evening, we went to hear Veronica's husband, Joe, play drums for a Reggae Band at Skyline Park. The architecture there reminded me of Reed College because it was brick and Tudor timbered. It was built about the same time as Reed, too.

Mark sent me off to photograph everything while the rest of the relatives listened to music. [Scenes of teen boys teaching five year olds sarcastic zombie fart jokes deleted]

The feature from the park that most sticks in my mind was the promenade. A narrow pathway of water cascaded out of circular pool's rim, and then fell four feet into a pool below. Above it all was the brick manor about a quarter mile in the distance.

Okay. The other instant that sticks with me was when I was coming up on a photographer and a newlywed couple. They had paused for a shot in a gazebo I wanted to pass through to get back to the distant concert. The photographer noticed the couple's gaze focused on something behind her and turned. "EEEK!" she gasped. "Boo!" I said and smiled. She hadn't heard me on the gravel path.

The Cloisters (and the Met)

2010-06-22 Tuesday.

This was my day to wander around, unsupervised, in New York, so I chose to visit The Cloisters. It had been about a decade since I'd visited last.

I managed to navigate New York transportation from Suffern and arrived at The Cloisters at about 10 AM. Along the way I helped a Japanese tourist buy a fun pass, navigate the turn styles, and find the right train to Times Square (which is big, because I normally am Geographically Impaired). Fortified with a Pepsi, I ascended the long stone ramps and stairways into the mediaeval collection of art.

I know you're going to ask: did you see the Unicorn Tapestries? Yes -- but I find them heavy, dark and depressing, so I only saw them for a few moments.
What I love about the Cloisters is all the over-the-top art. My favorite objects tend to be either sculptures or stained glass or silver. While I was there, I thought I'd hunt for foliate heads. I also planned to attended a mediaeval garden tour.

I saw the life-sized carving of Balthazar ("You Better Work!") presenting myrrh, and the painting of a slightly mutant camel. I didn't see the Bronze Bird Walking Stick in the treasury, which was a pity. But I did see the old playing cards, some manuscripts -- probably the Very Old Translation of Thomas Aquinas had the most Historical Wowness -- and a capitol carving of a dancing demon which reminded me of the time Mark posed in imitation of its vaudeville stage stance.

What it cool about the Cloisters is that there is some miniature work that astonishes me, especially the paintings on a 3 by 5 piece of vellum. Considering they were probably done in a dark room with a single goat's hair as a brush instead of with ray-tracing software and a 500 dpi three-tone printer, they are even more miraculous.

Okay, and the Saint-Guilhem Cloister is just plain cool.

Sadly, at the cafe, I mistakenly ordered a tuna-salad sandwich only to discover that Deadly Red Peppers lurked inside. So my lunch was ex-sandwich wilted lettuce leaves and an ex-tuna sandwich bun. And a Coke.

Then it was off to the gardens! Which were kind of hot. And humid. Our tour guide through the gardens was a very old-school-Jackie-O-New-York woman. Her accent fascinated me because it was an admixture of Connecticut and New York (I think). Having given tours at Arcosanti, I can appreciate the balancing act of giving information to a wide variety of people.

The two things I walked away with were 1) mediaeval artists had a less complete knowledge of the world's plants and animals than we do today, with the result of depictions of plants like "strawberry trees," and 2) mediaeval folks probably used and re-used plants and wood much more than we do.

I must have dressed professorially, because afterward one woman on the tour asked me about the etymology of "paradise" (it's Persian from "pardes") and another asked me about the soil composition of the plants (I said I didn't know). I guess dressing in a nice shirt and knowing how to harvest a mandrake root is a great way to meet people in The Cloisters' gardens.

The foliate head quest only yielded one or two. I guess the rest are still in England where Lady Raglan found them. I did find some wild men on top of some ewers.

I wished Mark had managed to come, because there's nothing quite like running the ragged edge of sacrilege and divine campiness that so many objects in the Cloisters inspire with one's spouse. Every time I looked at a particular object or painting, I could see Mark striking a similar pose and saying something like, "I know, we need some kind of spiritual contraption; like Heaven!" Or the two of us would admire some flowing robes together.

By early afternoon, I discovered that I'd seen everything that I wanted to at the Cloisters. This surprised me because I thought I'd make a day of it. But there's only so much people being dragged off in chains into the living Mouth of Hell by pretty cool-looking demons can do to offset all the heavy, ponderous Crucifixions. After a while it just gets depressing. Madonna and Dead Jesus after Madonna and Dead Jesus. I mean sure, there's some relief offered by the paintings of St. Andrew causing the Wicked Mother to be Killed by Fire from Heaven, or St Andrew saving a Bishop from The Devil in the Guise of a Beautiful Woman ("She looks like she's smoking a ciggi!" Mark would say), but then we're back to Jesus, Our Man of Sorrows, who is simultaneously Dead and Alive. To quote Monty Python, "It's like those psalms, they're so depressing."

I figured I could sneak to the MET on the A train before rush-hour. So I did.

When I got to the MET, I had about an hour. So I went to the Egyptian Wing and the Ancient Middle Eastern Wing. I love saying hello to my favorite pieces and discovering objects I haven't seen before. I still love the Diadem of the Harkonian Princess and the Silver Elomite Cow.

After the MET, I just happened to stumble into a la Maison du Chocolat, where I made a new best (French) friend simply by using the words "merci" and "autrefois" in the correct context and later admitting that I knew almost no French. I probably got extra points for the wistful "Marie de France" sigh prepended to the autrefois. Yes, I did think about singing "La Petite Lapin Fu-Fu"; No, I restrained myself.

Through a series of text messages, I managed navigate through thousands of women lining up to do Yoga In Central Park (okay, and a few Fine Looking Men Jogging) and hook up with Lime Green Larry, but not before making even more New Best Friends at the bar of the restaurant we were meeting at (Larry was delayed).

My solo New York Adventure ended on a soggy note as one of the biggest rain storms ever hit The City. I still can't believe I didn't see yoga devotees being washed away.

Suffern Sundial

The Suffern Free Library has a sundial outside its main entrance. It is aluminum. The dial is reading about 10:30 on the upper dail face.






There are two gnomons on this dial. One is the very large triangle making up the body of the dail. The other is the hemisphere mounted on the triangular base. The shadow of the triangle falls on the dias the dial sits on. A thin strip over the circular part casts a shadow on curved dail.







There's a disk on secondary gnomon which can be used to track the height of the sun (which doesn't show up in these photos).