Grandma

My parents look, well, like Grandparents to me for the first time. They move a little slower, the hearing is not always there and in other ways they are frail. This is not a bad thing somehow, mind you. With age comes wisdom.

I recall my mom with our Euclid neighbors Loraine and Horace Haynes; Horace debilitated when I knew him, age 10, and made me uncomfortable as his speech unrecognisable though his mind sharp and eyes clear. Grace never acted differently around Horace and, I noticed, used touch often (at the time, this about the last thing I wished to do - touch an old person). Before his stroke, Horace worked for Standard Oil. Loraine and her sister Murial Drury (who lived together) Berkeley stalwarts with stories of the early UC campus and Berkeley fire of '23, which destroyed 584 homes in the North Berkeley Hills, including theirs and ours, both soon rebuilt. Murial's husband Newton Drury involved with the Save-The-Redwoods League which has, since '21, established over 1000 redwood memorial groves in thirty of California's state redwood parks; one grove named after Newton, who served as the league's first Executive Director as well as being the fourth Director of the National Park Service. I have been to the Newton Drury grove in the South Grove of Big Trees State Park.

Me: "What did you and Moe talk about on your walk?"

Madeleine, building a Lego house: "I don't know. Nothing."

Me: "That's it?"

Madeleine:

Me: "You know, talking to your Grandfather is like a great short-cut."

Madeleine: "What do you mean?"

Me: "He can tell you things that will take you many years to figure out. Ever think of that?"

Madeleine: "No, not really. Like what?"

Me: "Well, that is for you to consider. What are the things you wish know? Then ask him."

Madeleine: "Ok. Can I play with my Legos now?"

Me: "Fair enough."

Christmas, Take Two

Christmas, Take One

Eitan and Madeleine follow their tradition of sleeping in the same bedroom Christmas Eve which means not much sleeping. We stay up late wrapping presents and Sonnet later setting the kitchen table and taking care of the final finals. This morning I walk the dog .. or vice versa .. in darkness. The High Street silent - not one coffee shop to satisfy my needs.

The kids rip into their presents like nobody's business - Katie gives them red PJs with their names engraved on the front and their bottoms, which gets a nice guffaw from the Shakespeares. There are electric toothbrushes, a music player, ManU cloths and Alex Rider books; chocolate (of course) and DVDs; stuffed animals; "The History of Manchester United" and Legos .. Thank you everyone, one and all. Moe and Grace watch the action from the couch .. I recall Mary Lou, my Grandmother's Florida friend, remark: "Youth is a feast for the eyes."

Sonnet asks me to chop the goose's wing at the joint, which requires a cutter from my tool box. I find this to be disturbing. Next door, "Singing In The Rain."

Almost Diamond

More "Rusty" love y'all.

Sonnet's parents celebrate their 49th anniversary the day after Christmas. Grace and Moe (who did, in fact, arrive today) enjoyed their 48th on the 21st and will do so again on the 28th .. two ceremonies - one for the Jews and the other for the Protestants. Integrated they were in a very American way : Moe from University City, St Louis, and a reformed Jewish family and Grace, Upper Arlington, Ohio, where my grandfather a Company Man and every house with a two-car garage and no sidewalk. Grace a "wasp" : white Anglo Saxon protestant who, she notes, "everybody hated during the civil rights movement." My parents broke the mold, met in the first Peace Corps, spent three years in Malawi, then Berkeley California.

In the same spirit, Stan and Silver married shortly after meeting each other in Colorado and moved to Anchorage in '64, weeks before The Great Alaskan Earthquake that lasted five-minutes and the most powerful recorded earthquake in U.S. and North American history, and the second most powerful ever measured by seismograph with a magnitude of 9.2. Silver described the ground "melting." Stan a lawyer and Silver an English Professor at University of Alaska - I met a woman at Gare du Nord who took Silver's course "Women's Autobiography" who told me Silver changed her life. Stan and Silver and Moe and Grace found a way to forge a direction unhindered by legacy. Our parents had a sense of adventure and desire for .. something different. And they got it.

The Goose

Sonnet gives me a good kick and I jump from bed, grab the boy, and off to Chubb & Son for the Christmas bird. Not until standing in line do I have my first sip of coffee. The trick, as we have learned these last eight years, is to arrive 30 minutes before opening otherwise the queue around the corner and the wait two+ hours. Eitan in pretty good spirits as are we all as Moe and Grace set to arrive Heathrow today .. inshallah. This year, Grace notes, seems extra-special given the effort to be together including three cancelled flights. Katie remains closer to NYC and in Vermont.

Last night we see "39 Steps" at the marvelous Criterion Theatre on Piccadilly circus. To be precise, the theatre under the circus and we descend four or five flights to our seats. The venue dates to the 1870s and feels wonderfully of an other era which is fine since the decor not replaced in a generation (The Criterion a Grade II listed building so no structural changes allowed but a good upgrade, or at least a tidy dusting, would do nicely). Wartime music plays before and after the show. Sonnet describes the play as "an inventive comedy" which references every Hitchcock movie. Four actors fill various rolls and some of the set pieces, like racing across the roof of a train ("Number Seventeen") or avoiding a dual-wing plane ("North By Northwest"), spirited. Eitan adds "It is a bit of a mystery" and my two-cents that it is more like Monty Python. It is perfect for kids, though well passed their bedtime. Ah, well - holiday schedule dude. Anthony joins us and we have dinner at the very cool Soho House since it is, well, Anto. Kids allowed until 9PM. Sharp. The manager stops by to chat with us for ten minutes despite the busy busy.

The Pope does "Thought For The Day" on Radio 4.

Me: "Anything to say on Christmas Eve?"

Eitan: "Um, it feels like any other day."

Me: "Really?"

Eitan: "Yeah, I guess so. What's it supposed to feel like?"

Me: "I don't know. That's what I asked you."

Eitan: "Where is this going, Dad?"

Our Kate Is Always Sunshine

Kate in Ibiza on a yaght. She frolics for us all.

The winter solstice, I explain to Eitan and Madeleine, occurs exactly when the Earth's axial tilt is farthest away from the sun at its maximum of 23° 26'; this occurs on the shortest day and longest night, when the sun's daily max position in the sky is the lowest. The seasonal significance of the winter solstice is in the reversal of the gradual lengthening of nights and shortening of days. Depending on the shift of the calendar, the winter solstice occurs on December 21 or 22 in the Northern Hemisphere, and June 20 or 21 in the Southern Hemisphere. This year, ye perfectionists, the winter solstice occurred on December 21, at 23:38 UTC. This is 11:38 pm Western European Time or 6:38 pm Eastern Standard Time. Bada bing.

Eitan, reading from a joke book: "What do you call a polar bear in the desert?"

Me: "What?"

Eitan: "Lost."

Madeleine: "That is horrible."

Eitan: "Why did the loo paper roll down the hill?"

Me:

Eitan: "To get to the bottom."

Me:

Eitan: "Ha ha ha! Get it?"

Me: "Man is it dark. What do we call the darkest day of the year?"

Eitan: "The darkest day of the year?"

Me:

Eitan: "The day it's really dark?"

Madeleine: "The blackest day?"

Eitan: "The day of blackness?"

Madeleine: "The day with less sun?"

Eitan: "The day with no light?"

Me: "How about the winter solstice?"

Eitan: "Oh, yeah - that one."

Upper Hunza Valley

Munir sends the KKH gang this shot from Minapin, where Munir has been often in 2008 and 2009. In '97 Munir took us into the heart of Pakistan's Northern Territories, nicking Afghanistan, through the Karakoram Mountains and finally the Xinjiang Provence of China.. Then, Munir was responsible for small enterprises along the highway so he new every inch of the two-lane black top.

Shangri-La is a fictional place described in the 1933 novel Lost Horizon by British author James Hilton. In the book, "Shangri-La" is a mystical, harmonious valley, gently guided from alamasery, enclosed in the western end of the Kunlun Mountains. Shangri-La has become synonymous with any earthly paradise but particularly a mythical Himalayan utopia — a permanently happy land, isolated from the outside world. In the novel Lost Horizon, the people who live at Shangri-La are almost immortal, living years beyond the normal lifespan and only very slowly aging in appearance. The word also evokes the imagery of exoticism of the Orient. In the ancient Tibetan scriptures, existence of seven such places is mentioned as Nghe-Beyul Khimpalung. One of such places is mentioned to be situated somewhere in the Makalu-Barun region. The other is the Hunza Valley. Source: Wiki

Merry Cheer

Madeleine and I have a special afternoon at The Old Vic where we see a decidedly adult play "A Flea In Her Ear." I was supposed to be with my mother but the airports closed so Moe and Grace expected tomorrow, inshallah. The play's innuendos fly fast over Madeleine's head ("Dad, what are they supposed to be doing in that room?"; "Dad, why is she wearing hand cuffs?") she is into the excitement of live performance and this very different than Peter Pan, which she saw with Aggie last week, and starred "The Hoff" as Captain Hook. Woah. After A Flea, we walk across the street to the book store and spend a few bob on gifts then Waterloo station and home on the train. London lit up like a Christmas Tree and glows with holiday cheer.

Madeleine: "Do you think it was better or worse to live in the olden times?"

Me: "I think it was probably the same with a few big differences."

Madeleine: "Like going to America. That would take ages!"

Me: "And medicine. If you were born a hundred years ago you would have feared things like polio. Or imagine the plague."

Madeleine: "In Tudor times, they slit the women open when she was having a baby. They rarely had a chance."

Me: "That sounds ghastly."

Madeleine: "They did that to save the baby. But mostly both of them died."

Me:

Madeleine: "I'm glad I wasn't born during the Tudor times."

Me: "Me too."

Eitan, quizzically: "Dad, would you rather eat a cow pat or compost?"

Richmond Park Pond

The pond a favorite for years - I am with the dog and the park mostly to ourselves. A five by 5 foot unfrozen hole services the waterfowl : ducks, swans, and others I don't know.

Love Affair

The kids sleep in after a late night watching movies ("Shriek 3"). Eitan wanders into the kitchen and does what every ten-year old does : bakes a cake. This time it is a butter-milk something batter with pecans on the top and side. It turns out flat as a rock but we both note: "tastes pretty good." Me, I swim a few laps (in and out before dawn), walk the dog and organise some family papers. I yell at the kids a couple of times to clean their bedrooms, do the dishes - usual stuff. I ask Madeleine to wear a dress as we are going to the Royal Albert Hall but never going to happen. I offer her £100 and she refuses - either 100 quid not enough or she knows mine an idle jest. Either way, I like her principals.

David

Sonnet's cousin David, on her father's side and the son of Bill. David is a carpenter in Brooklyn - you cannot get any cooler than that.

The cold persists and more snow expected tonight. My parent's flight cancelled - again - leaving everybody a bit blue. Since this be England and our house from the 1920s, the pipes on the outside .. where they can burst .. which they do. No water. These things so routine they barely cause a ruffle. Kids happy, no bath. For the record : I insulated last winter but to no consequence against the lowest lows on record.

Growing up in northern California has had a big influence on my love and respect for the outdoors. When I lived in Oakland, we would think nothing of driving to Half Moon Bay and Santa Cruz one day and then driving to the foothills of the Sierras the next day.
-- Tom Hanks

£ove Your Job

Me: "When do you think life begins?"

Madeleine: "Like what do you mean?"

Me: "Does it start when the man's sperm and woman's egg come together?"

Madeleine: "No, of course not."

Me: "Well, when?"

Madeleine: "At birth."

Me: "What if I told you a baby in mom's uterus has ten fingers and a heart beat?"

Madeleine, Eitan:

Me: "How about the potential for life? When does that start?"

Madeleine: "Life begins at the first breath. That is when it starts."

Me: "I like that. There is no doubt there."

Eitan: "Yes, at birth. When the baby breathes."

Madeleine: "That is what I said!"

Eitan: "Well, it's obvious isn't it?"

Me: "Not so obvious - a lot of people argue this. How about a tree seed. Is it living when just a root underground?"

Madeleine: "Yes."

Me: "Isn't this like a baby in mom's uterus?"

Madeleine: "Well, a tree is not actually living until it has leaves."

Eitan: "That is when it can breath."

Madeleine: "Nice one, Eitan."

Me:

Singing In The Snow

Everything, and I mean everything, shut down across the UK. The kids will have their white Christmas. This reminds me of the Great Blizzard of Jan '96 which closed the NYC metro for the first time ever. It was Sonnet's first day at Anne Taylor - a job she took to help put me through business school along with my parents. The prior month Sonnet relocated from San Francisco and her fine life so we could be together. So, after a bunch of kvetching and worry, Sonnet's boss calls and we have a free day together - AT closed ! We trudge to the newly opened Fairway underneath the West Side overpass on Riverside Drive which, Sonnet now describes : "a marvelous display of excess". B/c of the snow storm we are only ones in the giant super market - spooky - and so buy lobsters. Why not ? While it may sound romantic I suppose in reality when weather messes things up, especially in a big city, life is a drag. No taxis, jammed humid subways, dress shoes soaked ..

So, today, everybody excited for Moe and Grace's arrival which is delayed two days. The good news : they do not pass time at the airport as I listen to reports of 1000s stranded at Heathrow spending the night in Terminal 3, nobody in charge nor adequate heat nor blankets. Pointing the story, the shrill woman who blasts the country's ability to deal with adverse weather - but there she is, having gone to Heathrow, stuck there for another day or two. In fairness her story about my worst nightmare - H/r bad enough those few hours before check-in.

While Eitan's football match cancelled, the boy makes it up 6:30AM for swim practice; he is one of three who join Coach, God bless her.

Sonnet: "Righty ho."

Madeleine: "Can we pick a movie and watch it together? All of us?"

Sonnet: Can we watch 'Singing In The Rain?'"

Madeleine: "No, Eitan hates it."

Me: "He's never seen it."

Madeleine: "Yes he has. There was that time when we went to that cabin by the farm and it turned 2009. And then we drove to the museum .. Fishourne Palace .. and we saw the Mary Rose."

Me: "Why do you think he hated it so much?"

Madeleine: "Because he said : 'Oh, I hate this movie.' And then he walked out of the room."

Me: "Well done."

Madeleine: "How about Harry Potter?"

“Conversation about the weather is the last refuge of the unimaginative.”

--Oscar Wilde

Let It Snow Let It Snow Let It Snow

We finish our Christmas cards; the side-pipe burts; the Astorg subscription documents in; kids on winter recess; parents arriving tomorrow (weather permitting) - it strikes me : I am on vacation for two weeks.

Palewell Common Sunrise

I drive Aggie to the bus station, 6:30AM. She is going home .. to Poland .. by bus. 30 hours. This saves our gal some money and may end up being the smart route : London walloped by a storm that dumps a foot or more of snow by noon time and closes all the airports and cancels Eitan's football. Mom and dad arriving tomorrow so we keep our fingers crossed. Driving home, with the trusty springer spaniel in the back, I stop at our common for some exercise, me and the dog, and pay witness to a glorious sunrise. It is deathly cold so we stay for 20 minutes but well worth the detour.

Eitan: "People in Italy smoke a lot, don't they?"

Me: "I suppose. You should see the French."

Eitan: "And the Chinese. Don't they smoke a lot?"

Me: "Yes, more than 50% of their population."

Eitan: "In Australia, 300 people smoke."

Me: "That many?"

Eitan: "Yes. I read that on the Internet."

Me: "I bet you did."

Euston RR

Today I visit Wolverhampton, population 239,100. Woo hoo. I start my day at Euston Station which is no more inspiring. On the train a young couple in the row next to me drink beer (him) and vodka tonic (her) - 10:00AM, mind you. They are either ending their week in London or beginning the week-end early or does it matter? The train takes me through what most Americans, or me anyway, think of as the "real England" : villages with tidy rows of neatly organised red brick houses each with a smoke stack today covered in snow white. Rolling hills frame mine eye's review. This be the land of Elizabeth Gaskell and George Elliot or Dickens. The sweet suffering of it all.

Euston Train Station replaced the old station (including the Euston Arch) which was demolished in '62 against great public outcry - old images make me think of Penn Station NY which also went down at about that time. The new station opened in '68 following the electrification of the West Coast Main Line to Birmingham and the new structure intended to symbolise the coming of the "electric age". It certainly feels of the period but, surrounded by Grant Thornton's unimaginative cinder block HQ and next to busy Euston Rd in Camdon Town, it is pretty grim.

Space Girl

Madeleine has some performance thing at school and I learn this morning she needs to have a space suit. Sonnet finds a head-fitting box which I cover with aluminum foil and, presto, duties discharged.

Eitan, who walks to school by himself these days, skuttles around Madeleine and me, head hung down. This demands my attention so I bellow out some song which makes the boy pick up a brisk jog. I wink at Madeleine.

Me: "Do you want to put some antennas on your helmet?"

Madeleine: "Do space suits have antennas?"

Me: "No"

Madeleine: "Why would I want to put them on my space suit then?"

Me: "Fair point."

Rock On, Tommy

I'm in Paris yesterday but back in time to see fabulous Mary, who has moved her family to Seattle to take the role as head of strategy for Starbucks reporting to Howard Schultz who is 55 but, Mary says, looks like 40.

The first Starbucks was opened in Seattle March 30, 1971, by English teacher Jerry Baldwin, history teacher Zev Siegl, and writer Gordon Bowker. They were inspired by friend Alfred Peet to sell high-quality coffee beans and equipment - in fact, during their first year of operation, they purchased beans from Peet's. Howard joined up in '82 as Director of Retail Operations and Marketing, and after a trip to Milan advised that the company to sell coffee and espresso drinks as well as beans. Even though Seattle had become home to a thriving counter-cultural coffeehouse scene since the opening of the Last Exit on Brooklyn in 1967, the owners rejected this idea, believing that getting into the beverage business would distract the company from its primary focus. Coffee, they thought, was for the home, Howard left to found Il Giornale coffee bar chain in April 1986. Meanwhile in 1984, the original owners of Starbucks bought Peet's (Baldwin still works there). In '87, they sold the Starbucks chain to Il Giornale, which rebranded the Il Giornale outlets as Starbucks and quickly began to expand. Starbucks opened its first locations outside Seattle in Vancouver and Chicago and the rest, as they say, is history, Starbucks went public in '92 with 165 stores; today they are over 17,000. Source: Starbucks and Wiki.

Smoker

People who smoke around non-smokers are the worst. Actually, the worst are those who smoke in queues and I find myself sandwiched between two fags waiting for a taxi at Gare de Nord. The Parisiennes just don't care - theirs an adult city and they shall do what they wish. Photo from Vogue.

Me: "What is your favourite subject?"

Madeleine: "Art."

Me: "What is your favourite subject excluding anything with drawing ?"

Madeleine: "I don't know, French maybe."

Me: "Nice one. Say something in French."

Madeleine: "Ciao."

Me: "Um, something else please."

Madeleine: "Bibliotheque."

Me:

Madeleine: "Ciao bibliotheque. Won't be seeing you again soon."

Elizabeth Garrett Anderson

Eitan's class remains in the Victorian era and today the boy presents Elizabeth (Eitan's notes in full):

"Hello everyone,

"My name is Elazabeth Donnell Garret and I was a very special person in Victorian times.

I was born in 1836. I was an English physicians and the first woman to qualify in medicine in Britain.

"My father was Newson Garret who was a very successful businessman and my mother was called Leisa Dunnel Garret and I was the second of ten of their children.

"I was born in Whitechapel and in 1849 I went to a boarding school called the 'Academy for the Daughters of Gentlemen.' I was a nurshing student at Middlesex Hospital.

"In 1865 I passed my exams and gained a certificate to become a doctor. In 1872 I founded the New Hospital for Women.

"In 1902 I retired to Adlesborough on the Suffolk Coast and in 1908 I became Mayor, the first female mayor ever.

"I died in 1917."