6-Week Dispatch: New York

It was time to head from New Jersey to Manhattan! I landed at my nephew Todd’s on West 82nd. How good to see the fam and the new bathrooms! Jennifer is still the admissions director at the Studio School, where Ethan is still a student; Samuel has had his first year at the High School for Math, Science and Engineering at City College – congratulations, Sam!; Todd is still an author, still at “Parents Magazine,” and still a keen observer of all of the above!

Todd and Sam escorted me quite chivalrously up to 88th and Columbus Avenue to Bella Luna restaurant for my dinner rendezvous with Tulsa Central High School friend and music industry writer, David McGee. His singer/songwriter girlfriend was in town: Lisa Mills, born in Mississippi and currently from Mobile, Alabama. I highly recommend the urbane, delicious and reasonably-priced Bella Luna. I also highly recommend David McGee’s fantastic, free on-line magazine, Deep Roots; Roots Music and Meaningful Matters (http://deeprootsmag.org/). I also highly recommend Lisa Mills’ new CD: “Tempered in Fire” (Thank you, Lisa!).

David’s career began at age six when his cousin handed over her transistor radio playing Elvis Presley. He was transformed. What I didn’t know about him until this dinner was that he used to dress as the young Elvis (not the Las Vegas one) in elementary school, lip-sync Elvis in music class and get chased around the playground by the girls! He had to have a teacher body guard. Eventually David wrote for Rolling Stone, Record World, and many other music publications; published biographies of Carl Perkins, B.B. King and Steve Earle; and created the wonderful Bluegrass Special, precursor to Deep Roots, which is currently the source of the amalgam of his endless knowledge, insight and passion about the field. Honestly, the monthly email he sends to subscribers with a description of each current issue is already overflowing with David’s gifts. If you want exposure to some of the best artists in myriad music styles who are not represented by Big Music Business, Deep Roots is your destination! In an old rockcritics.com interview with David, he describes being hired as a gofer in the mailroom of Record World with his journalism degree, allowed to review concerts that the staff editors didn’t want to cover. This is priceless: “By far my most memorable assignment was to review Anne Murray in Central Park, which meant I also had to review her opening act--Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band. And I must tell you, I got the same kick inside hearing Bruce the first time as I had when I first heard Elvis, when I first heard the Beatles.”

I used to babysit for David’s son Travis in the late ‘70’s in exchange for Bruce Springsteen’s performance at the Palladium and Michael Franks’ performance at the Bottom Line (and Men at Work and Dire Straits LP’s). He drove his two sons to the Mississippi Delta to hear authentic Delta Blues jamming from front porches. Hence, the second CD I acquired at dinner: his son Kieran McGee’s “Anonymous.”  My kids, when young Beatles fanatics, heard David’s story of the day he met John Lennon (David was listening to Bruce Springsteen on a reel-to-reel in an office and John popped in to say how much he liked Springsteen). I still have in my storage bin in New York the heartbreakingly eloquent article David wrote upon John Lennon’s death. And here’s what David wrote upon Elvis’ death: "In Elvis, I found someone to believe in; in rock and roll, as I learned it from him, I found a way of life that I wouldn't swap for any amount of money, because it was, and is, endlessly rewarding and fulfilling. It's only natural that I feel a certain hollowness inside of me now. A certain hollowness? I feel as if my guts had been ripped out."

The smart and lovely Lisa Mills had a triumphant gig a few days later at the Cutting Room (owned by Chris Noth, the "Law & Order" star and Mr. Big on "Sex & the City"), fronting Big Brother & the Holding Company. In David’s words: “no hype, she blew away the crowd. Even I was stunned by the power of her singing in front of that band, and how she made Janis's songs her own. After the show the club manager gave her his business card and told her, ‘Whenever you want to play here, call me.’” Luckily, someone captured the show on video:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5rCc3oWMK0c (“Me and Bobby McGee”).

Here’s David (on the right) with his now very grown-up son, Travis:                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              Here’s the talented Lisa Mills:


After my one night on Todd and Jenny’s sofa, we had a great Memorial Day brunch together and more chivalrous escorting by Todd to the bus with my suitcase. I headed to my longtime friend Carolyn McMonegal’s on East 40th Street for our annual gabfest, delicious foodfest, and another comfy sofa! Her cat Kayli was very cooperative about being shut in the bedroom for the night. Carolyn continues to display her newfound level of health, agility, and the beauty that never fades. The two of us don’t understand why the world doesn’t consult us about solutions to all the crap going on everywhere! Carolyn and I go back to 1978 in various textile design studios.

And speaking of textile design, I had a lunch date the following day with David Barrow, who arrived from England at Carolyn’s and my studio around 1980. He is now literally the only person I know who still has a career in home furnishings textiles in New York! (…decimated by China). After catching up on families and selves at lunch, I realized that I was ready…hankering even…to visit a textile studio for the first time since 2000. David is the stylist for the high-end line of prints for Richloom Fabrics, and his tour of the studio made my day. It’s all about the walls – festooned with ideas, color swatches, new designs and printed-out samples of the current, beautiful collection. As usual, I was too absorbed to take any photos, not that that would have been allowed!

It seems to be a tradition that it rains exactly after David Barrow and I meet for lunch in Manhattan. I wandered down to the Flatiron Building to see the new area that is closed to traffic. I know a sunny day would fill the place, what with the incredible food and drink offerings there. Tablecloths and umbrellas from Marimekko – one of my favorite textile companies in the world (Finnish). Wow. The new Citi Bike-sharing experiment is just getting underway in the city. Will the traffic and bicycles adapt effectively? Here’s one of the stations.


My next stop was at 96th and Park for a night with our longtime, world-traveling friend, Nancy Taylor. I could say that the incredible Burmese order-in dinner was a highlight, or being in the muted-grape-painted room with red moldings around the ceiling and Marcel Breuer’s Wassily chair in bright yellow leather was a highlight, but actually, the highlight was putting on our jammies and gabbing, like a real slumber party! Too bad I was too absorbed to take a photo of that room! Nancy’s travels this year included Borneo, Sulawesi, Bali and Thailand…and in her words: “After really roughing it in Indonesia among some fascinating tribes (one who dresses their mummied relatives and parades them in the villages once a year, and the Sea Nomads who live their entire lives on boats in the Celebes Sea), I meet my sister for a change of pace on the Eastern Orient Express from Bangkok to Singapore and spend several days at Raffles Hotel there.” It’s typical for Nancy to brave a tent in Ladakh or meet a jet-setting Indian princess at a polo match! Here she is deluxe on the Orient Express. And she insists on hearing my stories…PULEEEZE!

My biggest transportation challenge came the next day when I caught the wrong subway…with suitcase and carry-on (at least now 3 pairs of Brazilian Havaiana flip-flops lighter!). Instead of emerging at the George Washington Bridge Bus Terminal, I was way to hell-and-gone in the Bronx and had to turn around and ride back, drag the suitcase down and then up stairs to get to the opposite side of the subway station, then ride uptown again on the proper train. The wait for the Nyack Bus was over an hour, but I received word the Blue Rock School Spring Play, to which I was headed, had been postponed due to the threat of rain, SO I would not be late for that. Better still, my former Blue Rock School staff cohort and music teacher, Joan Cornacchio - children and adults alike often got the two of us confused - had come from Massachusetts to see the play and was also spending the night at the one and only Lucia Gratch’s – Blue Rock School kindergarten teacher, photographer, gardener and mutual friend par excellence. It turned out that there was neither the play nor the rain, so we were forced to share some wine in Lucia’s garden (dominated by purple this year), watch her dog, Little, crunch on cicadas, see her adorable sons, Josh (a good friend of Jake’s) and Julian, and grab a bite at our old haunt, O’Donahue's Pub. It was a superb reunion!





The next day, Joanie stayed in to wrestle with requirements for her new endeavor – an advanced certificate from the Syracuse University Disabilities Studies program in order to create the ideal post-secondary program for differently-abled people like her wonderful, talented daughter, Olivia. I know Joan’s musical genius, astute observation, wisdom, and practical experience will combine to hit the nail on the head!

I spent the day at my beloved Blue Rock School. I was sorry to miss the production of the Spring Play that evening, as I was flying off to Texas, but I loved watching the rehearsal that afternoon. I sat on the dirt risers in the amphitheater in the woods, engaged in the fantasy world created by these self-assured 7th and 8th grade children - many of whom I have known for years - while other-worldly cottonwood wisps floated down on everyone from the surrounding tall trees. It was precisely the magic I had come for! Thank you, close staff friends and amazing children - and cottonwood - for my BRS fix.

Newton was flying from Japan to Austin, so our rendezvous was imminent at last. It would be our first opportunity to see what all the fuss over Austin is about!

Love,

Sandy

6-Week Dispatch: New Jersey

To go from Florianopolis to New Jersey, I connected through Brasilia and São Paulo. In Brasilia, a terrific new system on their flight status monitors indicates only for flights in the next 45 minutes! The agent knew my flight was on schedule, so far, but did not yet know which gate. An employee at security knew my flight was at Gate 10, but on the way I passed Gate 8, which posted my flight and had a line for boarding. There was still no representation on the monitors. Just sayin’. At Guarulhos Airport in São Paulo, I had a six-hour layover. I only needed to send an email to Newton in China, shop, and eat. It was two hours before I could check in for the flight to New Jersey, so I settled in and attempted to access the internet. NO GO. I was advised at the information desk to go to the END of the OTHER terminal to the Vimo phone store where I could purchase a card for access. Vimo explained I could buy a 2-hour card or a 12-hour card; I asked for the 2-hour because I had learned there was access in the departure gate area, once I could check in. "We only have the 12-hour card." I laid down my US$17.50 and returned to my terminal, buying en route seven pairs of the iconic Brazilian Havaiana flip-flops for gifts in the USA. Again, I attempted to communicate with Newton. But the card would not work. I had eaten a protein bar already, so decided to go back to the other terminal to correct the situation before returning again to eat at the wonderful Vienna buffet, with the flourless chocolate cake. Vimo could not get the card to work either, so refunded my money.

Now back to my terminal. I gave up on the meal and the flourless chocolate to check in and achieve, after immigration and security, internet access. I bought some cheese and a chocolate bar and, after 30 minutes of entering every extant statistic about myself, I was finally connected to the internet. I emailed Newton and caught up briefly with mail and Facebook until boarding was announced. Good luck, World, traveling through Brazil next year for the World Cup Soccer tournament. Hope you're not counting on flight status info, easy internet access, or a meal!

Newark Airport was going to be interesting the next morning. I was meeting up with my cousin, Cynthia Needham, whom I hadn't seen in ten years. I wasn't sure I would recognize her. She was the only passenger who checked a bag on her small plane from Burlington, Vermont, so the silvery, lion-haired, petite, smiling woman - the only person there - was Cindy. We were catching the train to Lawrenceville for a reunion with my sister Donna, who hadn't seen Cynthia for 25 years. We decided it had been 47 years since the three of us had been together...all in high school, and in the rather bleak town of Alva, Oklahoma, where Cindy's family had moved from the more urbane Lawton. We remember cruising the main drag of town with Cindy's boyfriend and two thick-necked football players and learning the then-locally-cool, indelible slang expression: "stud crunch."

The summer highlight over the years growing up for Donna and me was Cindy’s weeklong visit. We were smitten by her extraordinary intelligence and acerbic humor, delivered in her professorial vocabulary. She was the daughter of Daddy's brother, my sweet Uncle Billy, who always called the toilet 'the commode,' and Aunt Lou, who was very funny and endearingly dramatic. We used to throw adolescent parties in the early '60's dressed as beatniks in our Dads' white shirts, with tights and loads of blue eye shadow.

After Donna met our train, the three of us arrived at the near-magic 'Donna's Kitchen,' where top-drawer hospitality meets the unpretentious, fun-loving Donna herself. Time both melted away and stretched over decades of experience and accomplishment.

Our cousin Cindy is a prestigious microbiologist Ph.D. who moved beyond research, teaching at Tufts and Boston University and publishing books to actively founding initiatives to promote public knowledge and understanding of science. This included a four-part documentary on PBS (public television), Intimate Strangers: Unseen Life on Earth. I am particularly proud of her work with PBS via the Fred Friendly Seminars. Fred Friendly was Edward R. Murrow's producer on CBS (played by George Clooney in the film, "Good Night and Good Luck"). He left CBS in 1966, questioning the network’s ethics, and bequeathed a rich legacy of ethics in journalism and society by way of his Columbia University professorship, his founding of Public Broadcasting, and his numerous Seminars produced over 25 years to foster critical thinking by the public regarding the dilemmas of progress: http://www.fredfriendly.org/. Working with him and his equally charismatic wife, Ruth, Cynthia and her husband, Ken McPherson, produced a three-part series: NANOTECHNOLOGY: The Power of Small, which “encouraged the nation to consider the implications of scientific advances emerging from the laboratory.” Cynthia decided to expand beyond the northeast intellectual establishment (Watching Me Watching You) for two segments, engaging seminar panelists from the South (Forever Young) and the West (Clean, Green and Unseen).

In the meantime, Cynthia was a sailor in Boston; a skiing instructor and yoga instructor in Stowe, Vermont – her current home; a founding member of the local women’s shelter; a hiker who completed the 272 miles of Vermont’s famous Long Trail; and most recently, a Master Swimmer. This entails training and swimming for long distances competitively, even though she is currently content to remain near the rear guard on her six-hour and six-mile swims. She also crews for a more advanced friend by manning a kayak or larger boat to provide nourishment and orientation. This has included the 9 hours her friend persisted to cross the English Channel (before succumbing to hypothermia and disorientation). Cynthia will crew for her again this summer to circumnavigate Manhattan, and to swim the 22 miles from Los Angeles to Catalina Island.

In the meantime meantime, Cynthia grew tired of constantly raising funds to support her documentary production company, ICAN productions, Ltd., and embarked on her current non-profit company, Stowe Adaptive Sports. This improves physical well-being and independence among people with disabilities by enabling them to ski with specially trained coaches and specialized equipment. Cynthia is the only coach currently qualified to teach all of the categories: Wounded Warriors (amputees); spinal cord injuries; blind persons (this is coached verbally); cerebral palsy and other degenerative diseases; and children with Autism. The slight-but-mighty Cynthia is coaching here in the red jacket and white helmet:

 

My sister and I were amazed, as we always have been, by our cousin. Her brilliance, her contributions to civilization and the indefatigable physical challenging of herself are significant additions to her fantastically fun personality!

Our reunion included lunch at a very special place: “Rats” Restaurant at the Grounds for Sculpture park in Hamilton, NJ. This project of Seward Johnson’s also houses his sculpture studio. If you are not familiar with the name of this octogenarian, you are most likely familiar with his family, of Johnson and Johnson, and his ubiquitous and startling sculptures: “… uncannily realistic, meticulously worked bronze figures of postmen, matrons, policemen, doctors and businesswomen [that] dot parks and plazas from Rockefeller Center to Hong Kong Harbor…at once pedestrian and aristocratic, artistic and technical, popular and eccentric -- much like Mr. Johnson himself.” [NY Times.] Here are some examples of his public work:

He created the natural setting beyond Rats restaurant’s patio as a replica of Monet’s Garden at Giverny. It is astounding to sit there, as if in the foreground of the painting!

As one walks along the paths, sculptures by Seward and other sculptors appear.

Seward replicated entire Impressionist paintings in detailed three-dimension. One could believe that he just stuck a book and a wine bottle on this table from Renoir’s The Luncheon of the Boating Party, but every item and every texture is sculpted from bronze. What fun! The work on the right is of the sculptor himself with acquaintances.

I am excited to revisit the park on my next trip to Donna’s because a heavy rain prevented us from seeing the big attraction: an entire field of sculpture by many artists. We only managed the trails surrounding the restaurant, and got wet enough.

We had some lovely meals out in the Lawrenceville area, but nothing quite compares to the food and drink from Donna and my brother-in-law Larry’s kitchen. There was a complete martini/cosmopolitan festival one evening. After my requiring Larry’s particular genius for the ideal proportions of gin and vermouth (with a blue cheese-stuffed olive, I must mention), Cousin Cynthia scientifically demonstrated her infallible technique for the perfect vodka martini: take vodka from freezer; pour.

Clearly, the best part of our reunion was the last evening when the three of us rolled around the den laughing, comparing notes on our parents’ methods of imparting the ‘facts of life’ to us. I don’t know how we survived their cryptic messages, but at least two of the three of us bore children! In Cynthia’s case, the world has been enriched by the offspring of her fertile brain. Perhaps her parents were too vague?

We never figured where Cindy got her features and rather olive complexion, but as of now, she resembles our Grandmother Needham! So mysterious, the way Grandmother’s face was hiding in there over the years.

As Cynthia departed, Donna’s daughters, Sara and Amy, and dogs and granddaughters arrived for Memorial Day weekend. Seven-year-old Allison, who has been studying Brazil in first grade, stated to me upon greeting that “the World Cup of Soccer is going to be in Brazil next year in 2014. Have you ever been to CarnaVAL?” Too much! I loved having someone begging me to teach them the samba – so Allison, 4-1/2-year-old Paige, their cousin Bella and I had a wild time with Sergio Mendez and the gonzá rhythm instrument I brought them from Brazil.

Our cousin Norma’s son, Ron Neal, from the McCracken side of the family, came from nearby Summit, NJ, for Sunday brunch with his spouse, John Raymondo, and their 4-year-old son, Dylan. Allison, Paige and Dylan had a good time playing. Once we found out that John’s background was Philippino-American, each and every one of us mentioned to him a documentary we had watched just two days prior about a talented singer from the Philippines, Arnel Pineda, who had been spotted via YouTube to replace Journey’s former singer, Steve Perry. He soared to overnight fame. Poor John; it was the only thing we knew about the Philippines since the Bataan Death March and Imelda Marcos’ shoe collection. John is a distinguished business man who studied at Oxford, besides being handsome and genteel. Ron is a successful oil futures trader who is starting a new company with a friend. Good luck to all of this beautiful family!

Here are Dylan, Ron and my niece Sara with her dogs, Grady and Skillet: Here is John:

It was time for me to embark on the next phase of my journey, so off to Manhattan I went. Thank you, Donna and Larry, for your perfection; thank you, Cindy, for your inspiration; thank you, Allison, for your erudition!

Love,

Sandy