Las Vegas Dispatch

I am known for burning out on card games in my family. My mother, son and husband can play forever. One time Newton, Mother and I were trying to finish a game of Hearts with the two of them waking me up every hand for my play while I sat there drooping, along with my hand of cards. I reached the equivalent in Las Vegas when I was slumped over a video Black Jack screen at 3:30am, occasionally opening one eye to push one button or another…and only one free martini was involved. My daughter showed me a recent twitter she sent to her friend, bragging that I could party till 4:00am despite being 60 years old (60 looks older than it is from the 25-year-old perspective). I was so grateful that the “Asleep on the Strip” scene had not been factored in!

I held up much better on all the games we played at Jake’s beautiful house. Being a game maniac like my mother, Jake had a range of choices available. I did not even try to catch on to the video games buzzing around on his flat screen at which Newton, Elise and Jake are all adept. I can hold my own on Hearts and Spades when awake; but on the anagram word game, none of us can compete effectively against Jake – even while imposing handicaps on him. By the end, he had stolen most of the words we had formed by making them into different, longer words and had many more lined up in front of him than the combined number for Newton, Elise and me.

We played a silly game called “Likewise” that requires, skill-wise, only that one guess which answer is most likely to match everyone else’s. Once I got used to the idea of giving up cleverness and going for the most ordinary, I gained some points. By the time we played this for the second and third times, the silliness turned into ridiculous fun and many laughs. The only advantage I ever had was in some game we played where historical facts were involved. Oh well.

Jake’s new house was my project, though it only needed a few tweaks to spruce it up. It had been pretty well renovated before he bought it and nicely furnished by him and his roommate, so just needed some curtains, pillows, hooks, coffee maker, softer light bulbs, etc., etc. I used an extra blow-up mattress he had to help furnish a huge space at the top of the stairs. Alas, a small leak requires that Jake pump it up every few days. This recent photo from his girlfriend, Larissa, shows how well that plan is going!

Our first surprise driving home from the airport was when Jake started to turn into the driveway of a house that was loaded with Christmas lights and decorations, including a countdown to Christmas clock. This would be so completely out of character for Jake that we were thoroughly shocked. Alas, just a joke. He then turned into the dark driveway of the unadorned house next door.

We bought a Christmas tree on the 24th, had Christmas music on our iPod and loads of delicious food, including an artichoke dip and devilled eggs made by Larissa before she went home (to Albany) for Christmas; plus tacos, Brazilian moqueca, and my only “mom” dish, macaroni and cheese (twice). Jake gave me a very funny, very large certificate on Christmas morning for a family meal out at the restaurant of my choice, from “llamagifts.com”…based on his poker moniker and matching license plate, “Jllama.” He took us to a great Italian restaurant called ‘Bootleggers’ where I had the best white wine, the best muscles, the best sautéed greens and the best chocolate gelato since Rome! Elise gave me, among other gifts, an original drawing in a frame she made to evoke the four seasons – a prized possession!

I liked the 'good luck' feel of such street names in Vegas as ''Blue Diamond" and "Rainbow." To balance out the intensity and 'bad luck' feel of the Las Vegas Strip we all went hiking and rock scrambling at Red Rock Canyon. I always find it easy to imagine that I am on another planet when in the spare beauty of these southwest settings full of odd-shaped rock formations. Another world. We packed a picnic, but were too cold to eat outside, so carried it back home. I managed to wrench my shoulder and elbow while trying to hoist myself up between two rocks, then Newton injured his shoulder that evening wrestling with Jake on the living room floor. The bad news: age. The good news: mostly recovered.

Besides a couple of evenings on the Strip, we hung out one night at a little nearby dive that had video poker screens installed at the bar. I did a tutorial with Jake in preparation for my own gambling fling later. The bad news: didn’t win anything the whole trip. The good news: didn’t lose much.

We made it to one show on the Strip, Penn and Teller. They are wonderful magicians, raconteurs and old school libertarian spokesmen. Jake and Elise managed a photo with Penn Jillette after the show.

After some additional editing, Elise finished one more present for us - a montage of recent family video footage. She incorporated music and made the whole thing rather hilarious. We never suspected that she was taping us from the back seat of the car back in Napa Valley last summer, so the ending sequence, titled "Why We Have GPS," is an endless recap of Newton and I trying to follow maps, continually turning them every which direction in hopes of establishing our bearings...or, at least bearings we could agree upon. I say all sorts of highly mitigated things, such as "a left turn would be really cool" - thank goodness my actual thoughts were not recordable! It ends with Newton turning around from the driver's seat and saying laughingly as if on cue for the video, "Where's GPS when we need it?" In truth, Newt volunteered for all sorts of errands in Jake's car in Vegas just so he could fiddle with the GPS.

Our two kids are so much fun, so sharp, so humorous, so interesting. We couldn't ask for better company! Big time gratitude for that.

Elise stayed and Larissa returned for New Year’s Eve. Newton and I flew to Rio in time to celebrate on Ipanema Beach. Thank you, Jake, for such a memorable stay!

Love,

Sandy

Tulsa ‘09 Dispatch

Believe it or not, I was traveling from Brazil to colder climes for the first time since the fall of 2007. All subsequent trips to the northern hemisphere had occurred in the warmth of summer. What I’m getting at is that I had been wearing only flip-flops and sandals on my feet for two years when I headed to the US for Christmas. I left my worn-out flip-flops next to the ladies’ room garbage bin at Rio airport en route to Houston and struggled into the boots I bought in Poland two years ago.

As soon as I stepped off the carpet of the jet way exiting the plane in Houston and stepped onto the slick granite airport floor heading for Immigration, I fell all over the place. I felt like an indigenous person after the missionaries make them wear shoes. I’d love to say I acclimated, but there was yet another splat at another airport. We found homeopathic arnica first thing in Tulsa, so luckily – I mean in a big way – my knee and ankle did not hurt for long. I really hate injuries.

My 95-year-old, beautiful mother was just back in Tulsa from Thanksgiving in Denver, and was anticipating Durango, Colorado for Christmas. Elise flew in from New York the same day we arrived, and we all converged on Mother’s new single room. The room suits her very well and has all the charm Mother has brought to her every dwelling. Despite her shoulder and neck pain, naturally Mother was in good spirits and sharp and funny as ever.

We had arranged to stay at my friends Vivian and Mike’s house. They live in the house where Vivian grew up down the block from us Needham’s on 22^nd Street. I am still unable to look at the now completely transformed and refurbished version of my childhood home when we drive by, always turning my gaze across the street to study the ravine and creek in old Mrs. Johnson’s yard where we were allowed to play. My memory of the house where I grew up is too sacred to mess with.

Vivian and Mike raised their three kids on this street. Now Vivian teaches ethics to little kids for the public school system, and Mike is the dedicated and honest version of a lawyer. The four of us seem to be able to gab incessantly! They had several Oklahoma-gothic tales, like the one where the babysitter tried to come over with a loaded gun to kill them all, and the one where the raving neighbor lady jumped on top of the neighbor’s car sun roof and stomped while they were driving by – while the children were outside. Plus the one about the knocking sounds and mysteriously knotted curtains in empty rooms at the lake lodge. It is fascinating to hear about their non-neo-conservative, non-evangelical life in Oklahoma amidst the cynical religious/political scene that has changed dramatically since I grew up there. Guess I’d be in trouble pretty often with my big mouth. Mother has addressed her problems with some negative and strident fellow-residents at the Methodist Manor with her usual dignity and grace.

Newton had a project to make a Brazilian (Bahian) dinner for all of us called moqueca, so we unpacked the coconut milk, dendé (coconut) oil and malageta hot peppers - which leaked a bit in the suitcase but were well-wrapped! – and shopped for shrimp, peppers, onions, rice, etc. (and mango sorbet). Mother, who has an almost non-existent appetite, had two good-sized helpings of moqueca. Guess the Methodist Manor needs some hot peppers! Vivian and Mike’s daughter is married to a guy who photographs rock groups. He invited Elise, who videos rock groups, to accompany him on his rap assignment later that evening. Between that venue and a jazz place next door, Elise had a full night of partying Tulsa style with his friends.

We also got to spend an evening with my nephew Mark’s family. His three daughters were almost unrecognizable since the last time I saw them, so I fulfilled the true great-aunt “how you’ve grown” role! Lainey, the brunette, is almost 17, around six feet tall, looks like a model and is so chic I really felt like a (short) country bumpkin next to her! Madison is 14, also beautiful, and is, get this, a big-scoring soccer player on a boys’ team! My heroine. Taylor is 9 and impish and cool interchangeably. Her dimple on one side says it all. Mark and his wife Jenny are a package of good looks and charm and kindness and astuteness all rolled together. I am indebted to them for the willing help they offer Mother constantly.

The only real culture shock that amused me as we went around the city was the way everyone apologized for walking near anyone else. I am always annoyed in the northeast of Brazil how, in a grocery store for example, people come right at you with their grocery carts like one big game of chicken. Or just walk as if you are not actually standing in their path! I have no idea how to play this game, so spend a lot of time getting out of the way and waiting just to get around in the store. And one inch is considered passing space! A young worker at the store actually ran right in front of my heavy cart as I was pushing it away from the check-out. I almost slipped trying to stop it before it hit him, and felt better after yelling an expletive in English! Anyway, all the “excuse me’s” and “sorry’s” when people entered a room or passed our table in a restaurant in Oklahoma – with plenty of space to spare – was now funny. I especially appreciate the driving version of this courtesy in the US!

I stopped by to see my former high school gym teacher, Lynne Morgan, who keeps up with the gossip on everyone from school days. She paints incredible reproductions of Picasso, etc., one of which is soon to be framed over our living room bar. She is battling cancer again with rounds of chemotherapy. Fortunately, the prognosis is mostly good, but better than that, she seems healthy and hearty as ever.

Elise and I got to help Mother pack her Christmas-specific wardrobe for her Christmas trip. It was nice to contribute in some small way and fun to hunt down the jewelry she wanted in her dresser drawer! Besides several holiday earrings and sweaters, she actually has a necklace of Christmas lights that light up…lucky to have an electrical engineer around to fix the batteries for that. Anyone who knows my friend Carolyn McMonegal in NY can guess who sent that to Mother! We just missed our nephew Brad from Durango when he flew into Tulsa to pick Mother up right after we flew off to Las Vegas for our holiday with Jake.

More on that…

Love,

Sandy

Nigerian Fishermen Follow-up

We found out from Glades during our holiday travels that all the fishermen had been sent back to Africa by the Natal Chief of Police. The two Ghanans - Charlie and Francisco, and Leandre from Benin left on December 22^nd. The Nigerians - Captain, Indian and Williams, left on December 30^th. Knowing that we would probably never see them again (except Williams, if he manages to return to Glades), I did a double take with a pang of sadness every time I saw a very black Carioca in Rio to remind me of our dear friends.

We met Glades at Zen Bar once we returned home to hear the whole story: Four days ahead of departure, Glades was informed by the Chief of Police that Leandre, Charlie and Francisco would be flying back to Africa on December 22nd. Glades could not get the information about what airline, flight and time, but arrangements were made to pick up the three, plus Williams and Glades to see them off, at 11:00pm for a 2am flight to São Paulo. Leandre - who always wanted only to get home to his family - was just beaming at the airport. Four police officers, including one woman, accompanied them on the plane to São Paulo. Glades, who is always sharp as a tack with authority, had reminded the police that they were not dealing with the deportation of criminals, just fishermen, so there were not the usual two police escorts per deportee, just the four.

Once they arrived in São Paulo at around 6:00 am, they had to wait for the late afternoon Lufthansa flight that would eventually get them to Africa. Upon check-in, they found out that Lufthansa was not aware that this was officially a deportation, something they do not accept and for which they have no protocol. The police then had to find a new flight for the fishermen - on the national airline of the United Arab Emirates that went to Africa via Paris.

Glades got a call from Leandre that he made it to his family in time for Christmas Day! She laughed at the prospect that the Arab Emirates airline could have stopped over in Dubai where Charlie's brother works and has invited Charlie to work...with the young Francisco ready and willing to follow in Charlie's footsteps. Imagine their getting deported from Dubai back to Brazil! Glades enjoyed throwing the police chief into a tailspin with such a suggestion! At least Charlie was the one with a real passport. Both guys really wanted to stay in Brazil by then, and Charlie may get the support from his brother to study at the Brazilian maritime college in Rio eventually. For the time being, the two are back in Ghana.

Captain and Indian, remaining in the rental house at Buzios Beach, were properly feted over the holidays with lots of invitations and contributions of beer and food from their Buzios friends. Captain was having a fling with Andrea, the owner of the shrimp beach restaurant. Indian wanted to get home to his struggling family. Williams was still living at Glades’ and celebrated Christmas Eve with Mary and family.

Then Glades got the call for the Nigerians to leave on December 30th. She and Williams had been running around desperately trying to find a legal way for Williams to stay, but to no avail. It was necessary for him to go back to Nigeria and get a real passport (not a temporary) before returning to establish legal residency. There was much crying over this period on Glades’ and Williams’ part. This time four different police officers would be accompanying Captain, Indian, and Williams. The officers tried to make things convenient for themselves by planning to pick the Nigerians up in Buzios at 6:00 pm for the 2:00am flight (so the police could go home for dinner and sleep till time for the flight)…saying that the Nigerians could “relax” at the police station and order dinner. Glades, always on her toes, said that would be impossible as she had no way to contact all of them immediately and that there would not be enough time to close the rental house up properly, so the pick-up would need to be at 11:00pm. Actually Williams - who had been working for a Brazilian on a tourist fishing boat, though not legal to work - was still not home from there! Next, she had to convince the police officers to pick up Captain and Indian in Buzios and then Williams and her in Pirangi on the way to the airport. The police wanted everyone in one place so Glades could interpret, but she assured them that the two guys would know to come out to the car with their things when the police arrived and signaled to them…without needing an interpreter! After the tearful good-byes at the airport, the three flew off with their escorts to São Paulo and then caught an Air France connection, also through Paris. They arrived in Lagos, Nigeria in the middle of the night on New Year's Eve/Day. Indian did make it to his family at last, Captain is forced to be a good husband and father, and Williams actually may make it back to Brazil in a relatively short time!

The owner of the fishing boat – the long-lost boss who basically abandoned the fishermen in Brazil for 3 months - had decided near the end that he wanted his boat back. He is arranging for Williams to accompany him back to Brazil as the assistant engineer to oversee the repair of the boat. The boss has been working to get Williams’ official passport and will pay for his flight back. Even though Glades has been in touch with the boss and will hopefully get paid to interpret for him in Brazil, she does not know if he plans to get the boat back to Africa somehow or just sell it once it is unstuck and functioning. Williams will still have to come up with the money to reimburse the Brazilian government for his flight home to reverse the status of a deportation, which disallows re-entry. Then he and Glades plan to marry.

Glades was in charge of moving the valuable equipment that was stored at the rental house. She got some neighbor men in Buzios to carry the impossibly heavy, now-repaired generator to a pick-up truck, along with many smaller pieces of the boat's communication system. The generator is now stored at Mary's large complex where José, her husband, thinks he can find a buyer. The fishermen already informed the boss that any money from the generator belonged to them since they received no more money from the company after the first week in Brazil. Glades has all the pieces of communication equipment at her apartment.

We’re holding a Las Vegas baseball hat for Williams, as he requested a present from the US. Maybe we’ll see him sporting it soon!!

Sandy

PS It is heartbreaking to know that these lovely men who happen to be Christian will be regarded as dangerous and undergo humiliating treatment whenver they attempt to fly, thanks to the one Moslem Nigerian who tried to blow up a plane on Christmas Day. This is why 'profiling' doesn't work. It will always marginalize the innocent and prejudice the ignorant.

Happy 2010

Balcony

Sometimes on the balcony I see cars skating by on the nearby highway
Or trucks lumbering at torqued angles
Over the gullies of our dirt road;

I see the overview of hummingbirds´ routes,
The flirtations of lizards around the coconut tree,
And blackening puddles of rain amongst the uneven stones.

There´s a white-foam wave out on the ocean
And an ant marching over my yoga mat.

But sighs of fronds and moving shadows of leaves
Looming magnified in the balcony lights
Create illusory glimpses in my peripheral senses –

Now a creeping panther...
The non-sounds of the breeze and the thudding of coconuts;
The scuttling of a turtle? – no…a large dry leaf.

The shimmering palms whisper as they interlock,
Or is that the slightest rain?

The figure of my husband appears like a film trick,
Unannounced by silent stones.

I start yet again when, upside-down in a stretch,
I see an observant cat on the balcony´s edge –
No…just an oval urn.

What red creatures are flying by?
Oh…petals breeze-gliding.

In what kingdom am I?
Wraiths are dancing between this world and the next.

Could that stirring be my mother´s gentle breath
Joining me from a far away room?

And there´s my father´s shade,
Come to reassure.

Will I also float like a shadow past the door?
Or will my feet press into the stones with ants meandering over them?
...or are those seeds?

Wishing you a wonderful 2010 -

With love,
Sandy, Newton, Elise and Jake