Slurp

Sonnet: "Do you know what this is?"

Madeleine: "Shampoo."

Sonnet: "I want you to wash your hair after swimming practice. Then you don't have to take a shower later today."

Madeleine: "I don't want to do it."

Sonnet: "It would be so much easier if you just take a shower after swimming."

Madeleine: "Nope."

Me: "Why?"

Madeleine: "I hate the showers at the pool. I just do."

Me: "Fair enough."

Sonnet: "Your ride is here. Time to go!"

Eitan: "Do you know that I grunt and twitch sometimes?"

Me: "That's interesting."

Eitan: "Uncontrollably."

Eitan: "What are we going to do with the bamboo in the pond?"

Me: "It's not bamboo. They're water reeds.

Eitan: "Are not!"

Me: "Are so."

Eitan: "Not!"

Me: "Way."

Eitan: "Well, what are you going to do with them any way?"

Me: "At some point I will prune the reeds back."

Eitan: "We can deliver it in a package to a road we, like, know in China so they can go to the Pandas."

Maud'Dib

Madeleine reads "Horrid Henry's Big Bad Book" and Eitan starts "Dune," which I reread this summer for the third time. It is my favorite sci-fi and important to have a fingered copy, here, which I found in my parent's house this summer.

Here is the edited synopsis from Wiki: Dune written by Frank Herbert and published in '65. It won the Hugo Award in '66, and the inaugural Nebula Award for Best Novel. Dune is frequently cited as the world's best-selling science fiction novel. Set in the far future amidst a sprawling feudal interstellar empire where planetary fiefdoms are controlled by noble houses that owe an allegiance to the Imperial House Corrino, Dune tells the story of young Paul Atreides (the heir apparent to Duke Leto Atreides and the heir of House Atreides) as he and his family accept control of the desert planet Arrakis, the only source of the "spice" melange, the most important and valuable substance in the universe. The story explores the complex and multi-layered interactions of politics, religion, ecology, technology, and human emotion, as the forces of the Empire confront each other for control of Arrakis and its drug "spice".

Eitan readies himself for his birthday party which will see five boys for an afternoon celebration followed by a slumber party. Sonnet and I steel ourselves for a long night.

Eitan, 7AM: "My birthday party is today. I am so excited - I am going to go downstairs and do my homework."

Me, Sonnet:

Muad'Dib (pronounced /ˌmuːɑːdˈdiːb/) is a desert mouse within Frank Herbert's Dune universe. It is also the name for a constellation of stars and is taken as a name by the first novel's hero, Paul Atreides.

--Dune

Brown 2014

I remember sitting at the John D. Rockefeller library (known as the "Rock," which was initially nick-named the "John," until a hasty response from the President's office) as a Freshmen reading desktop graffiti from the graduating class before my arrival or '84. And even more strangely: scribbled messages from years way before that. College was hard-fought, new and my own little Idaho - the thought that others had done similar or perhaps even the same thing before me un-nerving somehow.

Brown's class of 2014:

Class size: 1,510 (female 52%)

Number of applications/ admitted - 24,988/ 2,738 (11%) (2013 figures)

African American - 10%

Asian - 15%

Latino - 9%

White - 44%

Unknown - 10%

International - 11%

Valedictorian 26%

Top 10% - 93%

First generation college - 14%

Children of Alumni - 12%

Tuition/ Room and board/ total (2013) - $38,048 / $11,080/ $49,128

Average financial aid scholarship - $31,940

-- Brown Alumni Magazine and Brown website. Photo by Richard Benjamin

Richmond Park Academy

I attend a presentation by the School Heads of five neighborhood primary schools. While our Burrough has some of the best state primaries, the secondary schools are dismal and most parents send their children to public (ie, private) schools in Southwest London. There are good options, too, like St Paul's and the Hampton School. Having attended Berkeley High School with 3,000 students I am all for state education. My best friends are from this time and also some of the most interesting: musicians, writers, architects, film makers, entrepreneurs .. all progressive. All liberal.

Twenty years ago the Sheen School a good secondary. When Labour came to power in '97, the rules changed and school funding went to "bums in seats" and the Sheen School recruited outside the Burrough to fill the classroom. Over time, it became crowded and worse, a holding place for the less desirabales from around London. Performance and interest fell while the best kids chose elsewhere. Today I often see the little ruffs with shirts untucked in menacing packs smoking cigarettes. Those are the girls. Motivated, competitive, mums who have nothing but the best ambitions for their precious dears do not give Sheen School a thought.

Last year Sheen School taken over by the council and rebranded "Richmond Park Academy" (an academy, I learn, allows the government to take over poor performing schools and dismiss the Head Teacher and disband the Board of Governors. In short, the council can take immediate action). Unusually, the Head Teacher remains while the academy status nets investment in new buildings, new teachers and committed focus; our Tory council is in line for the first time in 14 years with national politics which speeds change. And there is hope, real hope, for improvement. I see this in last night's presentations which are passionate. One mother notes (near tears) how Sheen School (now RPA) was thought a "disaster" but her daughter's first year a triumph - "she is loving it and comes home excited by her day." The challenge of a school re-boot is the community buy-in: success depends on the students and the best now sent to the publics. If our children went ensemble it could become "the best state secondary in Britain" given the quality of the primaries. It is a huge leap of faith. We (I !) want a great local state secondary. It would benefit the community and keep the kids close to home with their friends and sports and families. Eitan and we have a year to observe.

Eitan, over cereal: "It must be boring to be a shark."

Me:

Eitan: "All they do is eat fish."

Me: "I think it might be kind of cool .. they do not have much to worry about. Other then shark fin soup."

Eitan: "All they do is eat, sleep and swim. Just like Michael Phelps. That is his motto, you know."

Me: "I am glad you are thinking about these things."

Eitan: "Yeah. I guess so."

Birthday Banana

In the past 24 hours we have celebrated two yuful birthdays: Katie yesterday and Eitan, who turns ten, today. 

The boy's celebration begins last night as ManU's Javier Hernandez scores a dramatic game-winner against Valenzia in the final minutes of the all important Champions League qualifier. Sonnet, I and Joseph, who is over for dinner, hear him yelp - way past his bedtime, I might point out, but I figure the kid deserves a bone every now and again. He almost loses the privilege on the way to swimming practice as he and Madeleine fight in the back seat (Eitan denies wrong-doing but Nathanial points out helpfully: "You can see the bite marks on Madeleine's arm"). 

This morning Sonnet, per tradition, makes Eitan breakfast in bed. Beforehand he is in our bedroom as Sonnet readies herself for work and we have a discussion about our favorite books. Since mine may be Churchill's World War II memoirs, whose six volumes I read in two months when I was 24, we discuss Europe - thanks to Churchill, history is more compelling than any fiction I know. Eitan a rapt listener. Madeleine in her bedroom listening to Harry Potter with one thing on her mind. Guess. Tonight, per Eitan's request, we will go to Wagamama's noodle restaurant. He takes his classmates crisps - one bag each. Football slumber party Saturday. 

Yep, a good day for us all.

Me, driving: "Enough! Stop fighting! No ManU game tonight."

Eitan: "That is so unfair. Please let me watch the game.. you promised!"

Me: "I gave you three warnings and you you chose not to listen."

Eitan:

Me, a bit later: "Look, I know this is a big game. If you give me something I want, maybe I will reconsider the game."

Eitan: "How about if I do the dishes for two weeks?"

Me: "You do that already."

Eitan: "Money?"

Me:

Madeleine: "I know! I know!"

Eitan: "I will do the yard work without complaining."

Me: "OK, we are getting close to something."

Madeleine: "Dad, please - I have an idea!"

Me: "Yes, Madeleine?"

Madeleine: "He can do my chores."

Eitan:

Madeleine: "Eitan gets to watch ManU and I don't have to do chores."

Me:

Madeleine: "Win-win, Dad. Just like you always are saying."

Blanda

Football great George Blanda dies, age 83. Blanda played for the Houston Oilers and Chicago Bears but I will always remember him to be an Oakland Raider, where he played from '67 until '75. He retired as a silver and black. Blanda was a place kicker and quarterback before free agents, money, indoor stadiums, Al Davis and AstroTurf corrupted the game. In the 60s and 70s, a fella could play any position as long as he was capable (it was also not usual to see players, on the sideline, smoking on a fag - team mate Fred Biletnikoff did so between oxygen drags. But this was the Raiders). Blanda a coal miner's son from Pittsburgh who got his shot while at Kentucky U, being drafted in the 12th round by the Bears. His ranking gave no indication of his future success which eventually covered 26 seasons of professional football - the most in the history of this sport. During this period Blanda set all kinds of records including most passingTDs in a game (7, tied with four others); most PATs made (943) and attempted (959); most interceptions in a season 42 ('62) and the first player to score 2,000 points. In his first eligibility year, Blanda was voted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame in '81. Fittingly, he died in Alameda, California, not too far from the Oakland stadium.

Go Go's

Girls just want to have fun. This shot of Catherine and Sonnet taken Thursday, August 24, 1996, at a party hosted by Ivor and Alison before our wedding. Catherine the Maid of Honour (Definition: A Maid of Honour was a maiden, meaning that she was unmarried, and was usually young. Lady Jane Grey, for example, served as a Maid of Honour to Queen Catherine Parr in about 1546-48, when Jane was only about ten to twelve years old). I think Catherine a bit more modern than the day's title suggests.

The Labour party chooses Ed Miliband instead of brother David to lead the shadow government. David the former Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs and an excellent politician who Hillary Clinton said was "tall and dashing." Our David has been a Senior Special Advisor to Miliband so, sure, I wanted the taller brother to win. My one chance to influence the country, dude. On top of that, David Miliband a known international figure who has represented his country well. While Ed also seems compelling, he is not known outside of the UK. Truth: he is barely known inside the UK. So why him? Unions - they put their weight behind Ed thinking he will be sympathetic to labour's plight during and after the Great Recession. The unions already threaten to strike given the current government's draconian cuts to balance the budget. Unfortunately for Labour, a poll published in today's Times shows David by far the more popular candidate with British voters .. as a party, the apt expression following Saturday's leadership announcement might be "buyer's remorse" .. Or, better: "freak out." Ed has a long ways to go before reaching his brother's political stature. And Tony Blair? Ed doesn't have a chance of matching the silver tongued master.

Me: "Do you know our Prime Minister?"

Madeleine: "David Cameron!"

Me: "Well done."

Madeleine: "He's the mean guy who wants to bring the whip out on the children."

Wall Street - The Movie

Oliver Stone's remake of his film "Wall Street" does not really interest me. The '87 film, however, caught the rumblings of a country shifting from manufacturing and export to services .. and easy, so it seemed, money (Ivan Boesky: "Greed is good"). For many youngsters, myself included, it was an irresistible shout out. Recall "Wall Street" hit the theatres a month following a Wall Street collapse and the film not critically received nor particularly popular. I watched Wall Street in '89, in my parent's den, returning to Providence for my final semester of college and job interviews with all the "bulge bracket" firms.

Stone meant Wall Street to be a cautionary tale with Gordon Gekko serving as the modern-day villain: his flashy clothes hide his lack of class and, cathartically, he receives his comeuppance by the film's blue collar Joes who bring Gekko down while fleecing his money. Unlike Gekko, Gekko's protege, Bud Fox (pictured), spoke to many of my generation. We were blind to the perils of cheap (or compromised) success yet Gekko and Fox do jail time. For that matter, many of us wanted to be in harm's way - in the middle of something important - glamorous - that effected industry, jobs and people. We wished for the chance to make the decision, often in the grey areas, of right and wrong. What responsibility! Fox's flash apartment and model girlfriend a stupid red herring; the real message of Bud Fox was that you could be Bud Fox. And straight from college. "Wall Street" may not have been a box-office success but in '89, 75% of Yale's graduating class applied for investment banking jobs (First Boston, where I went, received 55,000 applications for 60 financial analyst spots). I thought to myself: this is the most competitive thing I can pursue; this is the most prestigious place I can go with my education.

I have talked to a number of friends about "Wall Street" and one, who has been at Credit Suisse since '85 and has run various units from asset management to Asian m&a, recalls the film as baseless ("I saw it as completely unrealistic drivel"). We have also discussed the evils of the industry and neither of us can recall working with a Gekko-like colleague or, for that matter, anyone who broke the rules or was corrupted by money somehow. Sure, there were guys I despised, but they, too, were hard working and smart and held their clients to the very highest of esteem.

Wall Street hanged itself when A) commercial banks allowed to offer investment banking services in '90; B) private partnerships went public with Salomon Brothers leading the way in '85; C) the shift of power from the client advisory business to the bond desk and prop trading where a firm trades its "own" money. The latter especially was Gekko territory. By the 1980s the lowly bond trader now King (while everybody made a killing). When the long-term banker relationships marginalised, the race was on for the collapse. Nor have we learned, it would seem, given the Financial Reform Acts' Republican neutering, but we shall see - of this we can be sure.

"The main thing about money, Bud, is that it makes you do things you don't want to do."

Lou Mannheim to Bud Fox in "Wall Street"

Windsor Half Marathon

Sonnet runs the Windsor Half Marathon finishing in one-hour and forty-six minutes or six minutes faster than her best time, which she set in 2008 while preparing for the London Marathon. Her goal today was 1:50 so she is pretty pleased with the outcome. The kids and I remain in the neighborhood as Eitan has a football game (KPR lose to the Whitton Wanderers, 2-nil) and Madeleine chores and homework. Also the Shakespeares need some down time - they are working hard.

Me: "What was your homework this week end?"

Madeleine: "We are doing math sentences."

Me: "What's that?"

Madeleine: "It is when you say something that has maths in it."

Me: "Give me an example."

Madeleine: "Ok, um, the sun has 100 Cokes and, say, the moon has 150 Pepsis .. "

Me: "Yes?"

Madeleine: "How many are there?"

Me: "250 .. "

Madeleine: "Right! It could have been Cokes and Fantas or something though."

Madeleine: "Are we really going to get a dog that week end?"

Me: "We'll see. I have to check my calender."

Madeleine: "Calender .. My calender is free."

Rapper's Delight

Saturday early morning, Sonnet takes Madeleine to swimming practice in her black Lycras - tomorrow she will run the Windsor Half Marathon. I fire up my Blackberry and Eitan wanders into the bedroom: "Can I watch football highlights on Sky Sports?" he implores. I suggest he finish his homework since we have an hour before soccer practice and he leaves dejectedly. I find him a few moments later here, at the kitchen table, actually doing his homework. A small victory. I pour myself some cereal and we discuss last night's parents disco party at the school's Tim Bernard Lee hall - he is mortified when I show him a couple of my moves. The thought of adults dancing too much information. We then have a game of humming songs trying to identify the others and finally, I recall, he should be finishing his geometry.

Eitan wins a year-five talent show by singing "Rapper's Delight" which he has been practicing from the back seat of the car all summer.

Me: "Madeleine, let Eitan use your bike - he has a birthday party."

Madeleine: "No, dad. It is my bike."

Me: "Just this once -- he would really appreciate it."

Madeleine: "Listen to the title: 'My Bike.'"

Me: "Madeleine, it seems to me that if you share your bike with Eitan you might get something in return."

Madeleine:

Me: "What is something he has that you want?"

Madeleine: "I don't know .. "

Me: "How about chores?"

Madeleine: "You mean if I let him use my bike I have to do more chores?"

Me: "Well, what if you negotiated something with your brother. If you let him use the bike, see if he will do your chores."

Madeleine: "Two weeks. Of chores. That seems fair."

Me: "Whatever you can negotiate, sweetheart. It is your deal."

Madeleine: "Four weeks then."

Me:

Madeleine: "I am not giving him my bike."

Me: "Look, Madeleine, you have two choices. You can let Eitan use your bike and see if you can negotiate something with him. That's a win-win."

Madeleine: "Or?"

Me: "Eitan will use the bike and I will ask you to do his chores for not sharing. That would be a lose-lose ."

Madeleine: "Do you think he would do my chores for a month?"

Me: "Now you are talking game."

"i said a hip hop the hippie the hippie
to the hip hip hop, a you dont stop
the rock it to the bang bang boogie say up jumped the boogie
to the rhythm of the boogie, the beat

"now what you hear is not a test--i'm rappin to the beat
and me, the groove, and my friends are gonna try to move your feet
see i am wonder mike and i like to say hello
to the black, to the white, the red, and the brown, the purple and yellow
but first i gotta bang bang the boogie to the boogie
say up jump the boogie to the bang bang boogie
let's rock, you dont stop
rock the riddle that will make your body rock
well so far youve heard my voice but i brought two friends along
and next on the mike is my man hank
come on, hank, sing that song "

-- Sugar Hill Gang, Rapper's Delight

Autumnal Equinox

Here we are, Friday, and the autumnal equinox. Since I aim to describe this accurately to the kiddies, I will do so first here. So yesterday the day and night roughly the same length, which meant an important day in historic times. There is, for instance, a 5,000 year old burial mound at Lough crew in Co Meath, Ireland, where the sun shines directly through a small opening into the burial chamber only at the equinox, lighting up magnificent carvings on the chamber wall. Straight from Tintin, dude. At the Holy Trinity Church in Barsham, Suffolk, an insignificant little window high up in the church tower seems to have no particular function. But for a few minutes on the equinox a shaft of light from the setting sun floods through the window and illuminates a statue of Christ high in the church's rafters. The church built 700 years ago, but the strange equinox illumination was hidden until several years ago. The traditional harvest festival in the UK celebrated on the Sunday of the full moon closest to the September equinox, but this tradition mostly gone now as farming agriculture has diminished in importance (and the world, sadly, less of a mystery). The summer and winter solstices attract more attention because they are easier to mark. The word equinox BTW is derived from the Latin word aequinoctium (equal night). (source: Paul Simmons, The Times)

"Mathew's Day, bright and clear.

Brings good wine in next year."

--Ancient rhyme about St Matthew's; it was believed the weather on the autumn equinox dictates the rest of the autumn.

Madeleine's poster greets me by the front door: "The Dog Deciding Time Is Now" which complements the papers left on my and Sonnet's pillow: "Can We Get A Dog?"

Blue Shoes

Madeleine snaps my new trainers and her idea to give me the candles for our shoot.

While I am generally Ok with the coalition government, following 12 years of Labour, they do not lack stupidity when it comes to immigration: from July, the Home Office imposed a temporary limit on non-EU migrant workers of 24,100 from June 2010 to April 2011, including intra-company transfers. This morning on Radio 4, accounting giant PwC announced that they are unable to meet staffing demands in London and suggest that they might consider relocating their European headquarters. The auto manufacturing industry, already on its knees, warns that the cap could "impact the attractiveness of the UK as a location for inward investment and undermine the Uk's role in an increasingly global economy." The City, already concerned about extended regulation and bonus limitation, depends on the best financiers from India or America or wherever. Britain has gained immensely from its generous policies towards new comers but the recession cuts deep: people scared and vulnerable and racist and outsiders the easy target (see: Mexicali). Unlike the US where much of the country's immigration is illegal and pursues manual labour, Britain has transformed itself into a services economy and prospered with foreign talent: global firms drawn to London while the Southeast drives the country's economy, increasing the tax base. Several years ago the proposed non-dom tax hostile but today's threat greater: companies, capital and labour can move anywhere, quickly, and may do so if government's policies do not welcome them (us).

Mike Katie David; Britan The Worst?

Katie returns to NYC following a visit to Stanford where her Op-Ed Project has entered a partnership. On her flight are Mike and David on their way to the Big Apple for work. They share a taxi, pictured.

Here is one I ponder: A uSwitch survey suggests that "Great Britain is the worst place to live in Europe" given the high living costs, below average government spending on health and education, lack of holidays and late retirement. The UK no longer has the highest net household income either - Last year it was £10,000 above the European average, whereas now it is £2,314 ahead, slipping below Ireland, the Netherlands and Denmark. Ireland? France holds the top spot in the index for the second year with Spain second, with Denmark, Poland and Germany rounding out the top five, with all these countries offering more days of holiday and a lower retirement age than the UK and Ireland. By these same measures, London is the worst place to live in Britain given the capital exports around £20 billion annually to the rest of the country while owning the longest hospital queues, most congested public transportation, highest housing prices and some of the lowest performing state schools. On the other hand, London is one of those rarest of cities - it offers infinite possibility.

Into The Light

National Portrait Gallery to mezzanine and the Tudors.

HST

Given these times, we need Hunter S Thompson more than ever. Where is the outrage voiced by my generation? Is there outrage or will that come when the debts come due .. The opening of the "The Great Shark Hunt," published in 1979, one of the most powerful I can recall with Thompson typing on New Year's eve and contemplating jumping from a Midtown skyscraper. He dares us to read. Thompson probably most famous for his "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" and "Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail '72" where he skewered the political elite while making it all sound fun, if not surreal, on the edge. He was friends with Allen Ginsberg and William S Boroughs and other Beats; he briefly lived in Aspen and ran for sheriff of Pitkin County, Colorado, in '70 on the "freak power" ticket which promoted decriminalising drugs and re-naming Aspen "Fat City" (he shaved his head and referred to his opponent as "my long-haired opponent", as the Republican candidate had a crew cut). Thompson created "Gonzo journalism," a style of reporting where reporters involve themselves in the action to such a degree that they become central figures of their stories. He is also known, of course, for his unrepentant lifelong use of alcohol (morning constitutional: Bloody Mary), LSD, mescaline, and cocaine. He loved firearms. He owned a long-standing hatred of Richard Nixon and, more recently, George W. Bush and the other political riff raff and villains who asserted their dreadfulness on us via government. Thompson was 67 when he took his life.

HST raged against the establishment which he viewed as corrupt, greedy, unthinking, bloated ("America... just a nation of two hundred million used car salesmen with all the money we need to buy guns and no qualms about killing anybody else in the world who tries to make us uncomfortable"). His insanity ("The Edge... there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over"), probably liberated him - one senses he does not give a hoot about the consequences of his efforts. Remarkably, Thompson hated writing yet was compelled to say something, anything, against perceived or real injustice. He did his best at this.

Since Bush I have been waiting for an anti-establishment backlash or some intelligent voice that brings it together and allows us to believe, somehow, our country not completely controlled by special interests. Or idiots. Instead we get Sarah Palin and the Tea Party. Roll over in your grave, HST.

Self photo from the WWW.

"Myths and legends die hard in America. We love them for the extra dimension they provide, the illusion of near-infinite possibility to erase the narrow confines of most men's reality. Weird heroes and mould-breaking champions exist as living proof to those who need it that the tyranny of 'the rat race' is not yet final."

--Gonzo Papers, Vol. 1: The Great Shark Hunt: Strange Tales from a Strange Time (1979)

Handy Man

I have a surprisingly good time painting the door frame which requires caulking, filling and sanding out the imperfections then priming and, finally .. painting.

Eitan studies the Victorian era: "Do you know what they called kids who did not have a good education?"

Me:

Eitan: "Dunces. And they had to wear a pointy hat and stand against the wall with one leg up."

Me: "Your teacher told you that?"

Eitan: "Yes."

Me: "Did you learn anything important?"

Eitan: "Queen Victoria died at 81, and Albert at 40. They named mom's museum after Victoria and Albert."

Me: "What are you thinking about?"

Madeleine: "A dog."

Me: "How about now?"

Madeleine: "Dog."

Me: "Now?"

Madeleine: "Dog."

Sonnet: "Madeleine, don't interrupt."

Madeleine: "I just want to explain something about a dog."

Sonnet:

Madeleine: "You don't want to feed a dog dog-food from a can. It doesn't taste good."

Eitan sniggers.

Madeleine: "It doesn't taste good for the dog. Plus it is not good for their teeth."

Me: "Dogs on your mind Madeleine?"

Walk And Target

Natasha and Giuseppe stop by to take the kids for a walk. Alphie joins. Since leaving us when Sonnet began her work sabbatical, Natasha has taken a job working with special needs children at a local school (she has a masters degree in psychology with her thesis published). Giuseppe has recently joined Deutsche Bank in IT. As we know, Madeleine has dogs-on-the-brain and seeing Alphie raises us to Defcon 3.

Eitan's KPR get killed 4-NIL by Target, who beat us last year as well on their home turf 3-0. The Blues redeemed themselves later in the season at regional tournament when, in the quarter-finals, the boys victorious on penalty kicks. Today, though, the magic not there. Eitan plays center field instead of his usual right-wing; he is KPR's game captain and his urgencies go unanswered. In reality, without goal-keeper Maxime, the game would have been 6-nil. Eitan up against two boys who are both good and play him rough. Sonnet and Madeleine on the sideline and the car ride home not much fun though the mood improves when ManU defeats Liverpool 3-2 in an exciting game. Berbatov scores a hat-trick including a remarkable bicycle kick.

"Come on KPR!"

--Eitan

Specs - Scott & Cindy

Last night I return to bed, pitch dark, and hear that horrible sound all eye-glass wearers dread: the crunch underfoot. My '50s style retro tortoise shells irreparably damaged but Madeleine makes an effort to secure the snapped leg with duck-tape, modelled. It don't quite work but I love her for it.

Scott and Cindy join us for dinner - they are favorite friends and Scott recently on the Board of Trustees at Brown University and the acquisition committee at Rhode Island School of Design museum (when we first met I followed up by sending him a paper Katie wrote on the museum during her semester at RISD; our friendship sealed). Scott has excellent stories of Providence, Rhode Island, including his post-Brown house on College Hill whose roof the highest point in the city. He and a friend hit golf balls from a balcony to Prospect Terrace Park without, "and I have no idea how" Scott says, breaking a window or two (I once took girls to Prospect Terrace for its surprisingly romantic views of the otherwise disrespected city; the giant pest-control bug on I95 does not help). He and Cindy had great parties and this was the 70s so I do not doubt it for a moment. Scott recalls encounters with Providence's colourful mayer and both Scott and Cindy have been to Cafe at Brooks where I washed dishes the summer of freshman year (most fun job I have ever had) and know the restaurant's owners Jack, Nate and Saul who were creepy, unattractive, Jewish brothers who owned most of dodgy Foxpoint including my Jr. year house - I never did get my security deposit returned, go figure. Scott and Cindy began dating at 14 and here they are in our dining room for us to enjoy. Scott turned 60 the year I hit 40 and we celebrated with a magnum of Champagne.

Eitan: "Yes! Yes! Yes! Arsenal and Sunderland tied 1-1!"

Me: "Pretty exciting, huh?"

Eitan: "Thank you, God, for this gift."

Eitan: "Would you like an omelette?"

Me: "No thank you."

Eitan: "Just so you know, the pancakes were a failure."

Zafar

We learn about Zafar, pictured, a handsome young man who represents the Hampton School along with other confident young men and boys. They sure have it on me at their age. Eitan and I tour the Hampton School for secondary which is seventh grade to university. The headmaster tells us that Zafar is a cricket star selected to play for the England U15s and then chosen as Captain of the U16s in 2008. Most recently he joined the England U19s and has been awarded a contract with Surrey County Cricket Club for the remainder of the 2010 season. As well as playing outstanding cricket on the national and county circuits, Zafar has played for the Hampton 1st XI for four years. This year, as School Captain and Captain of the 1st XI he has led the side through a successful season personally scoring over 1,000 runs, including six centuries. I have no idea what this means but it does the trick: the audience oohs and ahs; Eitan at full attention.

Hampton School offers a beautiful setting on a sunny autumnal day with 17 sports teams in action and visible on the various campus pitches. We parents shuffle through the buildings visiting the sciences, arts, maths &c. rooms with our bashful or anxious sons in tow. Hampton School all-boys while girls attend neighboring Lady Eleanor Holis. I joke with our yuful tour guide that there must be a well-worn path between the two buildings; he laughs awkwardly. No time for that here. How different from Berkeley High School where my friends were having dinner parties and hot tubbing sans clothes by tenth-grade and frat parties by 11th. Eitan is terribly impressed by the show as he should be: Hampton School one of Britain's best and he would do well to go here. We will visit several more to get a better sense of what he may wish to do. Sonnet and I also thinking about Madeleine who will begin this process next year.

Me: "Anything you want to say about Hampton?"

Eitan: "Any club you want to do, it is going to be at Hampton."

Me: "Anything else?"

Eitan: The football pitches look like Astroturf since they are so neat and well cut."

Barracuda

Here is Katie, a Berkeley Barracuda, at a swimming meet at King Jr. High School where we spent five hours a day from age 10 or 11. I can just smell the chlorine as I blog. I am guessing the photo from 1979. Following in Auntie Katie's footsteps, Madeleine makes progress in the pool and her coach Cindy chooses Madeleine to demonstrate the proper freestyle technique (my eyebrow raised, dear reader). I think Madeleine, already a strong kid, could also be an excellent butterflier but for now it remains her least favorite stroke. Butterfly the most challenging to master.

Bill and Martine with us last night which is a fun way to end the week. They are on their way to Amsterdam and a cruise ending up in Budapest. Martine recalls a visit to Czechoslovakia in '68 where she and Robin's passports confiscated until departure - the Police informed them it was for their safety. Now it is a bit easier to travel eastward though Bill has three cracked ribs following a horse-related accident. This did not keep him from going on his annual 100 mile ride into the Rockies nor visiting Europe. Bill is true grit. Martine tells me that his High Holiness passes near her hotel and she spies the protesters: "Nope to the Pope."

Madeleine on Friday: "Are you going to work?"

Me: "Yes."

Madeleine: "But you are wearing a suit."

Me: