New York Taxi

KT accidentally snaps this picture while jogging yesterday morning in Central Park. I think it is neat. This morning I hear it all from a cab-driver down on his luck: "I shoulda sold my apartment two years ago; I told the wife: sell-now! but she said whadya wanna do that for? I should uv smacked her then." He is from Argentina and lived in this country his entire life driving a yellow-cab: "And all this shit happening now when I'm gonna retire." Everything he blames on Bush who "fucked everything (every ting) up" and "somebody otta hang that mother-fucker by his balls." I ask him if he voted - of course not, I learn. I note this might have been his only way to extract some kind of revenge? but he doesn't want to hear it. "I told my wife that it don't matter who vote. The poor guy in the street- nobody gonna listen to him. No way." He does love Obama though- "my biggest fear is some son-of-a-bitch is gonna get him. Shoot him. You think that security can stop it? Look at Kennedy. Now he had security and they still got him." It is not an unpleasant conversation - fascinating really - and despite this guy's poor wife and bullying he has a twinkle in his eye, is not unitelligent and supports the right side. Maybe there is a lesson here. Or perhaps the worm has fully turned.

"Thank God for the rain to wash the trash off the sidewalk."
Travis Bickle, Taxi Driver (1976)

Brooklyn and Aquatics

Katie and I have dinner last night in Brooklyn, a place I admit to never knowing. My time spent in NYC from '89-'93 and then graduate school spent entirely on the Upper West and Mid-town, Manhattan, excluding my first year in Geenwich Village (Waverly Place and Sixth Avenue). Brooklyn's Prospect Park neighborhood goes on for as far as the eye can see but unlike Manhattan, there are no tall buildings. The energy and buzzy is equally intense yet it feels, like, totally different ya know? The underground subway is a straight shot from Katie's flat and despite traveling umpteen city miles we get there in good time if 22 minutes late. As anticipated, Anna-Marie and Jonathan are way interesting: she from Colombia and working for a foundation and he running an OEP business (outsourced human resources but I forget what the acronym stands for). Their condo is cool+they have a cute four-year old who is painted Spider Man. How I remember that phase, ah yes. While Kate and A-M discuss NGOs and Latin America (Katie and Jonathan met at NACLA years ago), Jonathan and I retred our understanding of the US crisis and how we find ourselves in such a mess. In a word: Bush. On the subway home I people-watch the styles and mixes then pick up the early addition of the New York Times - this always a wonderful head-start to a lazy Sunday. I wake up briefly at 6AM to find Katie sound-asleep on her couch, TV on.

This morning I go to the Aquatics Center on 90th and York to find a bona fide 50 meter Olympic size pool - and it is clean! And the water the right temperature! And digital pace-clocks! And anti-wave walls! And well lit with plenty of deck space! Swimming in London is a misery - indoor yucky 33 meter pools built 40 or even 50 years ago and barely hanging on. How strange to find a modern pool in New York - I mean, it just doesn't come to mind. After marching a mile on the black line I lift some weights then go to Katie's bakery to bring Katie and us coffee, espresso croissants and raspberry brioches. My God they are good too. New York is just way fun to visit. Stim-u-lating.

"More than any other time in history, mankind faces a crossroads. One path leads to despair and utter hopelessness. The other, to total extinction. Let us pray we have the wisdom to choose correctly."
Woody Allen, speaking to under-graduates - date?

"A fast word about oral contraception. I asked a girl to go to bed with me, she said 'no'.
Woody Allen

Re-Union

Katie's company - The Op-Ed Project - is blasting off and she is juggling all kinds of stuff, which sounds like growth to me. She's meeting the right people too like Mia Farrow last week and Teressa Heinz pointing to the ketchup in the diner where we brunch. This photo somewhere near Lincoln Center and I have been desparately trying to buy John Fitzgerald's "The Great Brain" for the kiddos - unfortunately neither Barnes & Nobles Super Store carries the classic in stock and I feel, well, a bit disappointed that the book has faded from its glory. Indeed, I read every one when I was ten or 11. Sonnet informs me that in London the kids enjoyed a football tournament (one goal for Eitan, unclear for Madeleine) and then to the school Christmas Fair. Mum gives the Shakespeares ten quid plus their allowance to blow on crapola - which they do with (wild) abandon. Eitan, I learn, spends his fortune on a toy which he gives to class-room chum Syrus which makes Madeleine feel, well, hurt. Madeleine and I discuss this for a bit on the phone but Eitan hovers and tensions rise. I guess these good old family dynamics start early, unfortunately. Irritated now, the boy refuses to speak to me (I tell Sonnet: "ask him if he wants to know how big the boat is that I got him" and even this doesn't get the usual rise). Katie and I are going to Brooklyn for dinner and I look forward to meeting some of her friends. Indeed, I am honored to be included.

"How small, of all that human hearts endure,
That part which law or kings can cause or cure."
The Traveller - Samual Johnson

NY

Katie and I walk southward from the Upper West Side passing by Zabar's, H&H Bagels, Barnie Greengrass and eventually Central Park - pictured. I am back in New York and back online following yesterday's cross-country jump. California ended on a nice note with Christian, Sloan and Rob where we go to a tres cool Peruvian restaurant next to the Ferry House on da bay. Over Latino cocktails we talk about the financial markets, property values and Europe where Rob recently visited Munich for Octoberfest. It did not end well but that is a private story, if easily guessed. Oh boy and lucky him. I also lunch with David and learn about his new enterprise - an advertising technology company that projects images onto about any surface anywhere (the Union Jack, for instance, was displayed on Buckingham Palace for the Queen's Jubilee but this done by a French firm). I wrap things up with my pals at Industry but their fund remains open yet. We do not anticipate a surprise but in today's melt down, who knows? Stay tuned.

Madeleine: "Mom, would you rather have a feather or a cow as a pet?"

Eitan to Madeleine about something: "In your face!" (this gets the boy in trouble BTW)

"I want to thank my parents for somehow raising me to have confidence that is disproportionate with my looks and abilities. Well done - that is what all parents should do."
Tiny Fey in The New Yorker magazine

Katie In FL

Here's Katie over Thanksgiving in Ft Lauderdale with Mark and his family. The pool is at the Swimming Hall of Fame where there is a wax Mark Spitz whose hand, Katie notes, is chipped+he has a George Hamilton tan. That's not quite how I remember our Jewish hero. The museum has lots of swimming history that we grew up with+waaay back, including a full length woolen women's suit with skirt (ankles showing I wonder?); the first swims by men and women (hugely greased up) across the English channel and a few from Cuba to Florida. Johnny Weismuller's Tarzon promo shots are displalyed, as are East Germany's steroid enhanced swim-girls of the late 1970s and 1980s - '78 was the first and only year the American women failed to win gold though unlike the Germans they did not have to worry about shaving. Their backs. There is also a full-story high portrait of Janet Evans who began setting national records by age-11 then dominated the '88 and '92 Olympics+carried the flag in '96 (Atlanta). Many of Evans records stood until recently. Katie finishes her tour with a swim in the Olympic training pool- pictured- noting her 850 yards is hard work. And to think she once clocked ten-miles a day on the black line. Now those were hard yards. Each. And. Every. One.

On swimming, I jump a plane this morning in London and end my day at the Spieker Aquatics complex at Cal. This is a pool I hold dear having competed in the Nor-Cal high-school championships, watched Matt Biondi set a national high-school record in the 50 yard freestyle (20.04) and lapped with Nort Thorton who coach the Cal Bears who I trained with my Senior year of high-school. Tonight, as always before, I change on deck - no grimy indoor pool here - just me and the stars. It is a cold night but I quickly warm up in crystal clear water and am quite happy to be free of the usual early-morning Richmond lap swimmer who somehow conveys a since of grumpiness despite the milieu. Or maybe I am the one grumpy. Moe BTW cooks seared salmon with avocado, shrimp and mango salso as I write. It is good to be home.

Man Of Action

Pokémon I see you!

Surf And Turf

The last time Halley and Sonnet together in May, when with Catherine they met in Rome to celebrate 4-0 (am I allowed to announce that?). For our families it has been one year or Thanksgiving '07. In between there has been some growth (I hope) and plenty of family travel. We, of course, had our marvelous time in Colorado and California for the summer while Halley and Willem visited India and Australia (Willem, who is head of Exeter University's Psychology Department, had some work relateds) and Halley took her children to Maine for July. She, in my mind, is the quintessential New Englander - sensible, pragmatic yet mischiefous with an eye-twinkle (oh, I hope she reads this). Of course she went to school at an all-women's college; of course her favorite protection is duck-shoes and anything from LL Bean; of course her brother could be Governor of Maine one day. Her wedding was a lobster extravaganza on a Maine lake where we young skinny dipped after the drinking and dancing. I, being wet and drunk, stumbled from the water unable to find my glasses which somebody had kindly returned to the main house. Nobody wants to play part of some guy and his lost glasses but happily mine returned the next morning allowing me to enjoy the celebration. Now I ask Halley if she eats lots of lobster non-stop during her annual trips home; to my surprise it is only once or twice - "you get rather tired of it quickly" she notes. Pardieu! It is my favorite meal and I already look forward to New York next week when I will go to Mylo's for the lobster salad.

So anyway, here I am blogging away when I should be packing for America since my flight leaves tomorrow morning early. Over and out.

Beach Boxes

These cheerful boxes are found on the beach in Exmor. This time of year the beaches empty of bathers but full of walkers - and dogs, including Fozzywho goes nuts with excitement to our amusement (Madeleine BTW is desperate for a dog and she spends her free moments stroking or cuddling Fozzy). The season here is from May until September when the British seaside comes to life. No, it is not Santa Monica or Laguna but there is real charm to the chippies and arcades that line the beach-road inviting middle-class and overweight Brits to their fried up meal and touch of gambling. I always feel transported back to some magical time when the British went to the British seaside for holiday instead of Portugal or Spain. We are not too far from the British Riviera which Sonnet and I visited some years ago - think cobbled stones, family pubs and beach-umbrellas sheltering the brave from the wind and cold. Now this is the England I love - stiff upper lip, and all. On this theme, we stop for lunch at The Little Chef and in the washroom and bloke comments on the weather: "piss'n down on us mate." I reply: "It's our choice to be here" which gets a welcome cackle. We are all of the same spirit when the weather comes down.


"Yesterday, you made not of my -- the lack of my talent when it came to dancing. But nevertheless, I want you to know I danced with joy. And no question Liberia has gone through very difficult times."
W., speaking with the President of Liberia, Washington, D.C., Oct. 22, 2008

Zoe

Zoe is the precocious child of Halley and Willem. Several years older than Eitan - she was born the year after we arrived in England - she is that awkward cross between teenager and kid. Zoe carries herself with confidence and owns her space - and while she is sometimes silent one is always aware of her presence. She describes to me tectonic activity and mountains, which she now studies in school. Madeleine, of course, fascinated and a bit intimidated by her older friend yet Madeleine's curiosity not reciprocated. As only natural, it is one's elders that glean attention. Zoe recently took her secondary exams and it is pins and needles until January when her scores come home. Under consideration is one of England's top grammar schools requiring exceptional numbers to gain a place. Given Willem's two PhDs and Halley's Smith, I think expectation are deservedly high; yet there is no untoward pressure as I often see in professional families. We all know it will work for the best wherever Zoe goes.

Switzerland becomes the first city in the world to give heroin to its hardened addicts. In today's referendum, 68% voted for the pioneering government programme following ten-years of data indicating drugs crimes fall markedly when users given their fix. In the late 1980s Zurich offered 2,000 needles and 800 condoms daily to combat AIDS in Platzspitzpark or "Needle Park." The police grew frustrated with the over-crowding and abuse by 1990, when then they pulled the plug.

Halley prepares a 10 lb turkey and we stuff ourselves with all the trimmings. Bravo! My favorite "traditional" straight from Maine is is the sweat potatot mash covered with marshmellow. The kids spend the night allowing Sonnet and I an unexpected night to ourselves. Heaven.

Sea Snail?

We spend the afternoon at Exmoth - here the kids and Zoe and Ava scream "the tide is out!" racing from the boathouse onto Lyme Bay. Due South is the English Chanel and West, across Devon, is the Atlantic Ocean. The high-tide is perhaps six feet above Madeleine while the sea comes in fast and hard: high-tides today are 7:38 and 19:57 while the low-tide now 13:30. In February, 2004, 23 Chinese shellfish hunters drowned not far from here at Morecambe Bay's cockle beds. They were eight miles out on foot. The other thing about this time of year is the bitter cold, not helped by the kids lack of wellies which I fail to bring despite Sonnet's urging. Within moments Eitan - who refuses jacket and scarf - is pink from the cold yet he refuses to relent: "I will not wear that jacket," which is a shame because not only warm but rather fashionable it is - I bought the damn thing in Paris. What can I do? After several hours of snail and crab hunting we end up at a true-grit caf which is one of the only locals remaining in an area undergoing rapid development. Willem tells me that most of the condos going up own by Londoners who spend little time here - consequently, the old fishing yards being deserted.

Exeter

We awake at the Barcelona Hotel in Exeter and there is only one thing on the kiddos minds: buffet! Sonnet goes for a run on the River Exe and I stumble downstairs with the Shakespeares to have breakfast where they load up three or four times. Me, I drink coffee and watch them stuff their happy little faces. Speaking of stuffing, we will do so again shortly celebrating Thanksgiving. I hope beforehand we will do some walking or visit the seaside - Devon offers some of Britain's most scenic pictures and we have gotten to know it well. In fact, Sonnet and I walked the Northam Burrows in Dartmoor when she was seven months pregnant with Eitan. In fact, Devonshire is home to part of England's only natural UNESCO World Heritage Site, the Dorset and East Devon Coast, known as the Jurassic Coast for its geology and geographical features. Along with its neighbour, Cornwall, Devon is known as the "Cornubian massif". This geology gives rise to the landscapes of Dartmoor and Exmoor, both national parks today.

Stonehenge From Car

I photograph Stonehenge at dusk from the A31. Yes, I am driving but traffic slow. Besides half the driving population seems to be tapping away on their blackberry or iphone so why not me just as stupid? We're on our way to Devon to visit Halley and Willem for a late Thanksgiving - which has become our tradition the last five years or so. We have a lot to be thankful for too - healthy and happy family, Sonnet's job+my work, Barak Obama (or better: Bush-Cheney gone). We avoid the M3 and other major routes opting for lesser-roads that cross traditional English countryside. Green and wet. All in, the drive takes four hours including one pit-stop at "the Little Chef" which is the equivalent of Howard Johnsons. Ghastly. I warn the kids they are allowed five "are we there yets" and we debate whether this for each child or collective. It goes downhill from there.

Madeleine sees Stonehenge: "Are we gonna climb it?"

Madeleine, in a robot-like voice: "We are from outer-space. We are here to marinate your planet." (I think she means "exterminate.")

I tell the kids to keep an eye out for ware wolves as we cross the Wiltshire dales in foggy dark conditions. Eitan worriedly: "do you promise that you are not lying? Cross your heart and say it again."

Logan's Run

I watch Logan's Run and am taken back to 1976 in an instant. For then, the movie was a big-budget, sci-fi spectacle before Star Wars changed everything. Based loosely on Albert Huxley's "A Brave New World," the story finds the human civilisation in the 22nd century existing in a pod, living their pleasures and guided by computers, secure from the world's outside contamination. In return, they are exterminated at age-30 preventing over-crowding (a crystal on the right-hand notifies your time up). Naturally some resist - "runners" - who are tracked down and executed by Deep Sleep Operatives or "Sandmen" (way cool). Logan 5 is a Sandman whose time stricken so he can locate "Sanctuary" or the heart of the future's underground railroad. Facing death, Logan runs. He's accompanied by Jessica, pictured, played by the gorgeous Jenny Agutter who is still making films today and did a tour on my other favorite sci-fi: "The Six Million Dollar Man." Other sideshows are Farah Fawcett Majors who is Holly or a mad plastic surgeon's assistant and Peter Ustinov who is the old-man-on-the-outside who becomes The Messiah. Brilliant stuff. The '70s production is chalked with funky fashion, space-boots and futurama consistent with "Space 1999" and "2001: A Space Odyssey." The impact of the movie ultimately lost due to timing, but for a ten-year old like me dropped off at the movies (UA Cinema, Shattuck Avenue) it was, well, nirvana.

Gobble

The turkey was almost our national symbol, after all. Apparently it is rather clever bird. Here in England I have to be careful about wishing anybody Happy Thanksgiving because, of course, the British lost the colony. I make a point of telling cashiers or service providers "thank you, my dear."

I ask Eitan, whose guitar has gone missing, if it could be at school. Replies he: "Yes, that is a distinct possibility."

Madeleine to me: "If you start annoying me I'll never kiss you again."

Eitan gets a football magazine which comes with 3-D glasses. He happily wears the glasses down the high-street asking me: "Do you think anybody will notice me, Dad?"

Madeleine on Thanksgiving: "Aw, Dad - do I have to eat turkey?"

Madeleine to Natasha on being scolded for climbing a tree. Madeleine: "Natasha, somebody is going to come over and tell me off. They are going to go blah-blah-blah and then it's over. So what?"

Madeleine, conspiratorially: "Natasha, let me tell you: never get married."

Eitan practices his in-house football skills whilst wearing Madeleine's pink slippers.

Pickles Orenstein

Madeleine snapped in June 2004. Man these kids change and fast! I used this photo on a party-invitation hosted by my parents in Berkeley that summer. The gang and others were there and a warm memory.

The kids and I discuss nick-names and we crack up when I suggest "pickles" for Eitan, as in "Pickles Orenstein". It kind of has a ring to it, don't you think? From there we talk logistics about lunch Friday at Giant Burger and decide that it may be too complex. Eitan tells me: "you are the opposite of Einstein." I should be offended but, hey, it is a pretty darn good insult coming from the boy.

Beat It

It is easy to forget the brilliance of Michael Jackson (and Motown) given his decline, most recently settling a lawsuit filed against him by the prince Sheik Abdulla bin Hamad Al Khalifa for $7-million but not before tantalilsing us with the possibility of a live appearance in a London court (Jackson spent the prince's money but failed to do a concert). I think about Jacko this morning during my power-walk listening to "Thriller" which has sold >100 million albums since '82 (the runner-up BTW is AC-DC's "Back In Black" at 42). Thriller continues from '79s "Off The Wall" but slicker, groovier and in perfect tune. There's not one bad song and even the doo-wop silliness "The Girl is Mine" with McCartney does well (Ok, not great) >25 years later. There's no doubt Jackson is a narcissist - who can ever forget his 5-story statue floating down the Thames to promote his '95 album "HIStory"? - but his self-love has given us some of the creepiest (Billie Jean), over-produced (Thriller), and pop-tastic (Beat It, Wanna Be Start'n Somethin') of all time. The year of Jackson's moon-walk in '83 I was in Switzerland but man did I get an earful from my friends. It was the coolest thing ever seen on TV and targeting us, a teen-age music-listening audience. Overnight Jackson changed everything uniting style, theatre, dance, costume, pop and rock and roll. It was also the peak of Motown - but really, how could they have gone higher?

While on Motown, I bought Stevie Wonder's "Talking Book," "Songs In The Key Of Life," "Music Of My Mind," "Innervisions," and "Fulfilingness' First Final" which he recorded during a magical period from 1972 to 1975. The upbeat and soulful music is all the more amazing given the pain and inequality experienced by the African-American community following expectations set in the '60s. A lot of brothers must have made it through by listening to Stevie.

"My goal in life is to give to the world what I was lucky to receive... the ecstasy of divine union through my music and my dance."
Michael Jackson

School Portrait and Fist Fights

From generation to generation - the same forced smile, goofy look and posed awkwardness - is it never not the case? Here is last years BTW. These photographs sent to grand-parents around the world finding themselves on the Grand Piano or in the dining room framed in silver for all to see. As it should be. On ours, both kids march to school having completed two-hours of homework on the week end. Madeleine acknowledges that she is prepared and I note that it must be a nice feeling - she reluctantly agrees. Given Gadwell, my aim is 10,000 hours in something. Otherwise it is a cold and cloudy day by the Thames. I await feedback for San Francisco and plan a trip there. Already I will see my folks and Guy and Jeanine+Katie in New York.

Christian sends us a care-package filled with all sorts of great things: a signed Philip Roth book, Kooks poster from the Worfield, Hotel Costes and Brazilian Girls CDs, T-shirts and more books. He also sends Eitan Man-U gear and Madeleine paints and brushes. Beforehand, the kids promptly fight over who gets to open the boxes. I find them on the ground kicking and grunting, surrounded by paper shrapnel; when they see me: boom! tears. Sometimes my anger is best conveyed in... complete... silence.

Divinity

Memorial Stadium following Cal's victory in the Big Game - thank you Christian.

I hear Malcolm Gladwell speak about his book "Outliers: The Story of Success" - Gladwell is best known for his book "The Tipping Point" - that illuminates secret patterns behind everyday phenomena. He begins with the NHL where players are mostly born from January to March (this BTW applies to European footballers and other sports). It turns out that youngster selections occur during this period and the biggest kids chosen who in turn receive the most training and resources; they may not be the most talented but this hardly matters over the long-haul. Gladwell argues that mastering complexity - music, sports, finance - requires 10,000 hours work and those who achieve do so because they have the opportunity to put the time in (swimming, any one?) He then explains cultural aptitudes - Chinese and maths, for instance. Asians for thousands of years have cultivated rice which is the most sophisticated early production known to man requiring 3,000 hours of labor per year+an understanding of drainage, seeding and multiple plantings. Contrast this to European's wheat at 1,000 hours and fairly straight-forward. Given this 10,000 year legacy is it no wonder that the Chinese thrive in arithmetic?

Gordon Brown announces a stimulus package and tax cuts in his new budget. Worringly, the Financial Times reports that the Britain's jobs boom from 1998 has been fueled by the public sector creating two out of three jobs. This suggests the private sector may not be equipped to weather a recession.

The Axe

The Axe, which goes to the winner of the Cal-Stanford Big Game, returns to its rightful home in Berkeley (picture from the Cal Daily archive) as we thump our private school preppy lame ass rivals 37-16 at Memorial Stadium. Go Bears! 

The first Big Game was March 19, 1892, on San Francisco's Haight Street grounds when Stanford beat Cal 14-10. It is the tenth longest rivalry in NCAA Division 1 football while the Cardinal leads the series 55-45 with 11 ties though I have never seen one (in '96 the NCAA created over-time). 

Happily, Cal has won six of the last seven including yesterday. This year, as every year, the Big Game makes up for a season's failings - Cal, we know all too very well, has not been to a Rose Bowl since '59 and Stanford 2000 (Brown went strangely in 1916 and a first college-memory is an advertisement for that in the Brown Daily Herald). 

While there has been many a cliffhanger, including 2000 when Stanford caught the winning touchdown on the final play of overtime, nothing matches '82 or the year of The Play. Grace, Moe and I were on the 40-yard-line to watch Cal's five-lateral run through the Stanford band including my distant-cousin Carl who plays trumpet (and was tackled by Kevin Mohn). John Elway shed teards on the following morning's Today Show. 

 Ah, sweet Jesus that is a fond memory and a moment right up there with getting into college or my wedding. I am glad I was present.

Led Zep

Sunday morning and we find snow which has now rain and sleet or a perfect reason to stay inside and do homework. Or blog. Sonnet breaks out to run around Richmond Park and I follow with a long-walk allowing me to listen to Led Zeppelin's "Mothership," a compilation of their best 18 tracks. Led Zep captures, better than any band I know, the emotional upheaval of the teen-age years: the volnerability, sex, break-ups, power-shifts and weirdness of it all. And the band not shy about their lyrics: "Way, way down inside, I'm gonna give you my love, I'm gonna give you every inch of my love, Gonna give you my love." Nothing ambiguous about that. Eric introduced me to songs like "D'Yer Maker" and "Fool In The Rain" my Freshman year when everybody was wiggy and exposed. Robert Plant's high-octive, nasal and whining chords captured the feelings of his message perfectly. What else on earth could send >70,000 into euphria ensemble? While there are huge bands today - Sonnet and I have seen some of them in London - none Godlike. Plant with is wavy golden hair, skinny body and stuffed trousers and Jimmy Page on guitar made the The Biggest Band In The World from 1972-79. Sex and drugs and Rock n' Roll (oh yeah). The band broke by 1980 when Plant grew tired and John Bonham asphyxiated on his vomit at 32. In December 2007 the band re-unioned for the first-time in >25 years at London's O-2 Centre.