Friday Night, Baby

Madeleine plays Friday Night Fives, losing 3-2 - improvement! - and I ask if their opponents handicapped? Eitan busts up from the back-seat. From there we go to swim practice and the improvement impressive: Madeleine laps for an hour while Eitan 90 minutes. Proudly, he tells me 1,600 meters or 64 laps. The boy needs 42 strokes to cross 25 meters and since I've had a revelation regarding stroke technique, I want to share it with my future Olympians. This nets a donut as both inform me oh-so-bluntly that they would rather die then receive help from Dad. When I press, Eitan: "Why do I care? What does it have to do with football?" and Madeleine: "Be quiet." Fair enough, though my prior jock inwardly hurting. And indeed, tomorrow is football, as Eitan reminds me like, infinity. The Kew Park Rangers next "friendly" tournament on 21 June, which conflicts with the Summer Fair so I just might not tell him. This sets an unpleasant precedent but, hey, he cannot go anyway so why knock him up? (I may revise the story under assumption that the playground knows all). The better long-term news is that Eitan on KPR's travelling squad for league play starting September. The Rangers field two age-nine teams of 11, including substitutes, and over-subscribed as break-away Kew Association folded after taking the best players and now want in. We, will .. what is the word I am, looking for?.. oh - yes, CHERRY PICK the kids we want back. Now I would never suggest that I am an overly aggressive soccer dad -- at least on the pitch, anyway. Eitan delighted to have Callum from KA who, Eitan informs me, "is, like, the best player in East Sheen" which, you know, says a lot.

Madeleine: "Dad, how many pages until you finish that book?"
Me: "Well, if I have read 250 pages and there are 300, how long will it take?"
Madeleine: "An hour?"

Sonnet to Eitan, after desert: "Stop eating Doritos!"

SFO, 1983

How about this one -- on my way to Geneva, Switzerland, for my junior year of High School (not pictured is David Ellis, who accompanied us to the airport). I am 16 years old. Given how difficult it has been for me to decide on London vs. California, New York or the Bay Area .. how on earth I picked up and left everything I held dear remarkable to me (Sonnet and I discuss this very point as recently as this morning reminded, in part, by this photograph). I do believe Moe has chucked his plaid jacket aside for the photograph, probably at my request, anticipating then this moment now. Dave and I laughed uproariously at its hideousness driving across the Bay Bridge then. Later, Moe pulled me aside and gave me one of those lessons that has stuck. "Jeff" he said, "I noticed your amusement with my jacket. Well, I often meet corporate or high paid lawyers and they all have expensive suits and handsome ties.. in [ABC important case], the lead counsel was irritated by this jacket.. and assumed I was just some schmuck. He underestimated me. I used to wear it just to get under his skin. And I won the case, in the end."

I think I was pretty nervous about Switzerland though not conveyed by the picture. I was excited, too, of course and anxious to meet the family I would live with. Talk about an interesting way to make up for my failings in Mr. Dillingham's french class, where I would have received a "C" (or worse!) if I had not dropped the course. I failed an early exam and oh the sweetness of erasing it, and the class, from my permanent record. That decision probably set me up for the Ivy League. And swimming. I found Geneva via Berkeley Barracudas coach Phillipe Henri, who trained with Genève Natation 1885; he wrote his old coach Tony Ulrich and the rest, as they say, history. Unique was the timing - an Olympic year - and the club owned seven legitimate medal contenders including Dano Halsell, who broke Robin Leamy's world record in the 50 meter freestyle (long course) at the July '85 Suisse Nationals. His time of 22.52 lasted less then six months, broken by Tom Jaeger. Today, it stands at 20.94 by Frédérick Bousquet, the first under 21 seconds, in one of those NASA suits (here is anther Frenchman breaking the 100 meters). Dano was all skin. Switzerland did win its first Olympic swimming medal: a bronze in the 200 meter breast stroke by the remarkable, and relatively old, Etienne Dagon. At 24, he was several years beyond retirement and continued competing many years after. Maybe it was his 14 year old girlfriend? Ah, Europe - but this for another time.

So back to the present: Iran votes today, and turn-out has been described as "extraordinary." It is hard to imagine that hard-liner Mahmud Ahmadi-Nejad, the sixth and current President. He became president BTW on 6 August 2005, after winning the 2005 presidential election and the first president of the Islamic Republic in twenty-four years who was not a religious cleric (despite his title, he does not hold the highest constitutional office in Iran, which belongs to the Supreme Leader of Iran (Ila Khamenei) according to their constitution. So today's tenth presidential election and Mahmoud challenged by the Iranian reform movement and former President Mohammad Khatami, and a leading opponent, until he left the raced and endorsed former Prime Minister Mir-Hossein Mousavi. Former speaker of the Majlis Mehdi Karroubi, another Reformists, is also running as is former Commander of Iranian Revolutionary Guard, Mohsen Rezaei, a Conservative. There have been huge rallies everywhere leading up to today - and remarkable to think how this former "Axis of Evil" has more compelling candidates then most Western countries .. let's just hope Ahmadi-Nejad gone. His comments on Israel and mission to obtain nuclear weapons destabilising the region. And tomorrow, it could be so.

Joyce And The Irish Catholic Church

"'O pa!' he cried. 'Don't beat me, pa! And I'll say a Hail Mary for you.I'll say a Hail Mary for you pa, if you don't beat me.I'll say a Hail Mary..'"
--James Joyce, Dubliners, p. 79

I read Dubliners last summer and this passage from "Counterparts" remains with me: after a grueling day of abuse from his boss and stress over how to get enough money to get drunk, narrator Farrington returns home in a sullen mood to find his dinner cold. He takes his anger out on his young son Tom who begs his father not to beat him by bribing him with prayers. The passage demonstrates Joyce's contempt for the Catholic Church.

"Counterpoints" relevant as the Irish Catholic Church accused of 'endemic' rape and abuse of children in their care including beating and humiliation that were "common" at institutions responsible for 30,000 children. A nine-year investigation, concluding in May 2009, found that Catholic priests and nuns for decades terrorised thousands of boys and girls while government inspectors failed to intervene. The high court judge Sean Ryan unveiled a 2,600-page final report of Ireland's commission into child abuse, which drew on testimony from thousands of former inmates and officials from more than 250 church-run institutions. Police were called to the news conference amid angry scenes as victims were prevented from attending.The country not anywhere near coming to grips with this horror and betrayal of its young people. I hear one horrifying testimony on NPR this morning, and must turn off the radio so Madeleine and Eitan cannot listen. How can one explain?

Drawing of the mosaic reconstructing its original state.The subject is Christ teaching the apostles in front of heavenly Jerusalem.

Gracie and Madeleine

One last shot from before the wedding. The kids don't see enough of their family, which is a shame. Sonnet and I also grew up far away from our extended families, though not separated by an ocean, and I suppose we turned out OK though of course I ponder what my children miss.

Back To Normal

Madeleine back to Special K which is a tough break following two weeks of those little sugar cereal boxes that the kids lovingly ranked for the morning's selection. Fruit Loops, Apple Jacks, Sugar Pops go first - who would ever choose Raisin Bran or Chex? - while Eitan loves Frosted Flakes. Yes, it is a rough life but being home has its benefits too - like Natasha and school friends.

For me and Sonnet it means the salt mines, made worse with the tube strike which began yesterday, 7PM, as the Royal Maritime and Transport union (RMT) walk off the job. Bastards. Conductors earn £40,000 a year with benefits and a generous holiday package exceeding the standard five weeks. They work less than 40 hours per week and retire at 52.

What they do have is us by the balls, and they ensure the status quo by squeezing.

A London subway fair about $6, or highest in the world. NYC, by comparison, recently raised itself to $2 which takes you from Manhattan to Brooklyn faster than any taxi, which we did couple weeks ago. Boris needs to sort himself out and this a first major test - the strike costing London £85MM a day, according to the Evening Standard, and way more in grief and aggravation.

Today's mess made worse given England's World Cup Qualifier against Andorra (first half score: 3-nil England; Rooney 2+Lampard 1)(did you know Andorra has the highest life expectancy in the world at 85?).

So, chaos on the streets and Sonnet avoids it by jogging. If we all do so, the industrial action could become a blessing.

Larry And Diane

Larry and Diane walk down the "isle" and I note the petals, gently laid by cousin Jake and Madeleine, who took her responsibility seriously wearing her new dress. Given how fast she grows, this will probably be its only showing. The last time Larry made the stroll with Susan in July, 2002. Can it really be seven years already? No doubt, he is a proud father and everything around us attest to Larry and Marcia's parenting skills.

So we are back to London Monday morning greeted by Natasha and powering through jet-lag. Been here before. I have plenty of work catch-up and Sonnet groans: "Opinions Day" when the museum open once a month to the general public who introduce their various treasures to the curators for an opinion (NB this is not a value-appraisal). Somewhere inside Sonnet's job there is a New Yorker story waiting to be written. Our Big Trauma upon re-entry Madeleine's toy bag left on the plane. These include a penguin, 'Tuddles,' 'Tyson, who is my second favorite,' a goat a tiny bird "which was already broken," a small turtle and a leapard. I dutifully head to BA's baggage retrieval and fill out a claim: "lost stuffed animals." When BA learns that a tearful seven year old involved, they crack into action and I imagine ten beefy guys scouring every plane at Heathrow. At least I hope so as Madeleine's sorrow genuine and my heart breaks - these lost guys her friends who have been with her in some cases for many years. Finger's crossed.

Eitan: "I'm getting a gold fish, a parrot and a hamster when I turn 11."

Madeleine: "Eitan, you can't have all of them!"

I ask: your favorite part of the holiday?

Madeleine: "I can't choose."

Eitan: "Being in CT and swimming in the lake and water tubing, the Yankees game and Vermont."

Sonnet: "The last night on the dance floor with the whole family."

Tie and Cuss

Poor Eitan, who hates anything fussy. We battle over his suit, his tie and tucking in his shirt. He whines. He cries "life is so unfair" and et cetera &c. My forced discipline nets about two hours of
obedience or enough to get us through the wedding - Eitan handing out programs, you see. Shortly after the ceremony I spot him running around jacket gone, shirt crumpled and tie lost forever. Sigh. He does clean up pretty good though and this the first time in a month hair combed (Sonnet, pre-wedding: "I am going to scrub you to within an inch of your life"). He, as most boys I observe, really most happy in muddy football gear, black knees and dirt behind the ear.

The kids track my language charging me £1 for words like damn and hell and £2 for fuck, shit and crap. We debate 'bitch' and 'bastard' while the youngsters avoid stating same using the first letter like "you said the 'F' word!" So far the pot up to £26. On occasion I let them cuss with abandon -after all, these things on the tip of their tongue (Sonnet BTW does not really go with this program). The kids have their ears open for anything new and Gracie gives them "mother fucker" which we all agree: this one bad. I am reasonably confident they have no idea what it means but somehow having Grandma involved makes it a three-pounder.

Madeleine: "Dad, whistling is no way to make me hurry up."

Sonnet And The Graduate

Here is my Sonnet, as lovely as the Green Mountains behind her (I note to her that if I was in college she would be Mrs. Robinson - that joke didn't fly so well). Thinking of 'The Graduate,' Dustin Hoffman in town for the premier of his new film "Last Chance Harvey" where he plays a divorcee who arrives in London for his daughter's wedding only to find himself on the edge of things like disappointment and loneliness - with Emma Thompson, he wonders around London. Sort of like 95's "Before Sunrise," where Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy dealt with similar narcissisms but in their 20s. And in Vienna. So The Graduate: Hoffman was 30 or 42 years ago when he made the film and was his stardom certain? "No" says he in Time Out. "The opposite. In those days I hung out with Ropbert Duvall and Gene Hackman and we were certain we were never going to be romantic leads. I was waiting tables and Duvall was working all night at the post office." And further: "we just hoped to be character actors who could earn enough to make a living for the rest of our lives. When 'The Graduate' came about, I didn't even want to try for it. I'd read the book and I thought it was a role made for Robert Redford. I was always going up for 'character juvenile' roles - which meant you weren't attractive." Well, this is all fine and good but those of us from Berkeley grumble that Elaine's college UC Berkeley shot on UCLA's campus; or that Benjamen's drive to Berkeley on the top of the Bay Bridge which heads away from the East Bay .. but these are small trifles in a film I first saw in 8th grade.. then again during orientation week at Brown, and again several years later in New York and most recently in my 30s on a transatlantic flight. It provides a wonderful insight into the conservative side of the 60s and post-college misery and its freedom -- who can forget the last scene on the bus? It is nice to be reminded of this from time to time, especially in middle age. Letting go is never easy, even when young at heart and nothing to lose.

"Sitting on a sofa on a Sunday afternoon
Going to the candidates debate
Laugh about it, shout about it
When you've got to choose
Ev'ry way you look at it, you lose.
"
-- Simon & Garfunkel

Country Club

Katie and I at the Dorset country club before the rehearsal dinner. The statesmanly bartender Mark, with a handle-bar moustache and who I cozy up to for a while, tells me that when he was a kid, Dorset had 27 working farms and today there are none. He remembers his childhood summers without a care in the world. It is good to have a place like this; those who don't drink his liquor. Katie gives Diane an excellent toast retaining a letter from Diane, age 11.

Katie twitters: "to make an effective argument, you must assume your critics are intelligent and moral."

Gracie and Moe. The BNP

My parents have resisted "Grandma and Grandpa" or any varient to the old standard, instead going for "Gracie and Moe." This reminds me of "Grandma and George" on my mom's side, which I am unable to decouple in my mind's memory - like chalk and cheese. Or Abbott and Costello. What is one without the other, afterall? I am delighted BTW to see that my father is wearing a trendy La Coste and has the coller turned up which is the current fashion.

Meanwhile, back in Britain, the far-right British National Party makes in-roads as Nick Griffin, who heads the BNP, and his colleague Adrew Bons elected to the European Parliament granting them a platform, >£80K salary and staff. As to Enoch Powell's comment that the BNP's success would lead to "rivers of blood," says Griffin: "The divisions are already there. They were created by that monstrous experiment: the multi-cultural destruction of old Britain. There is no clash between the indigenous population and, for instance, settled West Indians, Sikhs and Hindus. There is, however, an enormous correlation between high BNP votes and nearby Islamic populations. The reason for that is nothing to do with Islamaphobia; it is issues such as the grooming of young English girls for sex by a criminal minority of the Muslim population.

Pre-Party and Smoking Kills

Madeleine (and Doggie) checks out the pre-Reception space at the marvelous Wilburton, overlooking the Green Mountains of Vermont and comprised of the Appalachians and the Berkshires. Soon Madeleine to be surrounded by 150 wedding guests, many of whom I know from as long ago as college thanks to Bronxville holiday dinner-parties. 

The resort's 23 acres covered with objets d'art - some work like the rusty New Mexico sculptures while others miss, like the house-size gold Wicker Man which oversees the bonfire area (appropriately enough for those who saw the classic '73 horror movie). 

The Wilberton owner, I learn, an Irish collector who supports mostly local artists and part of "The Sculptural Trail" which I think a hippy hang-over from a by-gone era. A lot of grass once smoked here, I am sure. Dorset, the proprietess informs me, has changed considerably from blue-collar and working farmland to college preppy. I confirm this by jogging past a lacrosse tournement, marked nature trail and ski-head waiting patiently for winter. 

On the same run, I note Norther Harwoods, Beech, Yellow Birch and of course the Sugar Maple, which is Vermont's famous state tree. All vibrantly green yet the time to see them, famously, is autumn when they explode colour.


Oxford University reports an increase in the cost of smoking to the NHS - about £5.2B per year or double previous estimates. Oxford calculates that in 2005 around 110,00 people died as a direct result of cigarettes , accounting for almost one in five of all UK deaths. It is amazing to me that anybody smokes in this day and age - we know the facts despite years of deception - and we know it is deadly. 

The UK has some of the harshest anti-smoking labelling anywhere: on each box "Smoking Kills" pretty much says it all. No doubt this has worked: >50% of British men smoked in 1980 and today it is 22%; for women it is around 20% (Cancer Research UK). Yet a nasty little fact is that by age 15, 20% of children are regulars despite it being illegal to sell tobacco to under 18s. Girls smoke more than boys: 24% compared to 16% in 2006. 

I have mixed feelings when I see the poor slobs huddled outside some office with fag to hand, often cold and usually looking pretty miserable. I hate their second-hand smoke and am unafraid to ask them snub it out when my kids nearby. Yet smoking no easy thing to quit. I've never been addicted to cigarettes yet Wayne and I used to puff away while drinking Cuba Libres and dreaming of eye glasses (this with Help The World See, pre-MBA). 

No, it is not easy so I also feel sympathy for those unable to win their battle against nicotine. But only to a degree.