Inside St Paul's

I have a free hour and pay a visit to the Wren Cathedral (my photo from underneath the grand basilica facing the paupet). The present St Paul's dates from the 17th century and is generally reckoned to be London's fifth St Paul's Cathedral, although the number is higher if every major medieval reconstruction is counted as a new cathedral.

The task of designing a the current structure was assigned to Christopher Wren in 1668, along with over 50 other City churches. His first design, to build a replacement on the foundations of the old cathedral, was rejected in 1669. The second design, in the shape of a Greek cross (circa 1672) was rejected as too radical, as was a revised design that resulted in the 1:24 scale "Great Model". The 'warrant' design was accepted in 1675 and building work began in June.

The first stone of the cathedral was laid in 1677. The cathedral was completed on in 1708 or thirty-two years and three months after a spark from Farryner's bakery caused London to burst into flames.

Katie, Sharon and Noa

Here's a cute photo live from the Upper West Side. I'm in Paris today following a scramble out the door to catch my 0700 train. Why is it that your bill-fold and keys always disappear when you need to get the fuck out the door? Between meetings I manage to sneak in a five-miler from Le Crillon up the Seine, circling La Cité and The Dame returning through the Louvre and Jardin des Tuileries - a run I have done many times before but always special. The Parisiens have resurrected their giant feris wheel at Concorde looking straight up the Champs-Élysées to the Arc de Triomphe. It is a beautiful city.

I discover that Eitan or Madeleine has stolen my cuff-links leaving me in a pickle for tomorrow morning. I am aware that the kids are hoarding their treasures which includes, among other things, twine, crystals, a hackey sack, last Halloween's candy (Eitan), coins in various currencies and a dvd player which no longer works. Beauty, as they say, is in the eye of the beholder. And so too is value.

At Le Faubourg I watch the film "Anaconda" with J Lo and Ice Cube. Awaful but fun - I kinda want to see which celeb gets it first.

2!

Dakota turns two and we celebrate in Primrose Hill with her and a bunch of happy kids from the neighborhood and around town. An entertainer plays "pass-the-monkey" which I understand is a favorite of all English children but somehow missed our house. Dana prepares cupcakes to perfection and after all the action, we head for Primrose Hill for the view from the top.

At the party, I meet Stephen Robinson who until last year was a main editor at the Telegraph newspaper since 1986 and covering U.S. politics from Washington D.C. for seven years. Fun! We discuss the State of the Union, Conrad Black and the British tabloids which continue to tail-spin as readers and advertisers dessert. "The problem of course" says Stephen "is that there are too many broadsheets. But this is why consumers love Fleet Street- the selection." Stephen is taking the year-off to finish a biography for February '08.

Harley

Erik departs this morning on his Harley Davidson (one of three) with his arm held high. The kids simply squeal with delight as the machine belts out noise that rips into the morning quiet. From there I take Eitan and Madeleine to school as Sonnet bolts early for London's Fashion-in-Motion, which this time showcases the work of Manish Arora - one of India's most talented designers. Erik and I stay up drinking beer the last three nights and swap funny First Boston memories including, for instance, the time our colleague Dan Albert Fedex'd the board of Philip Morris (which BTW includes a former president) a presentation mis-spelling the company's name. That was a doozy. Or Vice President Brian Barrington forgetting to include tax calc's on his divestiture of Esso Imperial in Canada (doh!). Or despised Associate Linda Huber being fired by a client and calling us from her hotel because she had no one else to talk to. Boy those were good times.

TGIF.

Kuffar

Almost half of Britain's mosques are under the control of a hard-line Islamic sect whose leading preacher loathes Western values and has called on Muslims to "shed blood" for Allah, reports today's Times on its front-page. Riyadh ul Haq, who supports armed jihad and preaches contempt for Jews, Christians and Hindus, is in line to become the spiritual leader of the Deobandi sect in Britain (NB the Deobandis formed following the 1857 suppression of the Indian Mutany when a group of Muslims set up a seminary in Deoband as an act of defiance against Imperial rule). The ultra-Conservative movement, which gave birth to the Taliban in Afghanistan, now runs more than 600 of Britain's 1,350 mosques, according to a police report. In the U.K. it is a felony to preach hatred or violence.

i. "I bear witness that there is no God but the Almighty God and that Mohammad is a messenger of God."

ii. "For God hath said, 'Take not to yourselves two Gods, for He is one God.'"

iii. "Verily God will not forgive the union of other gods with Himself."
The first phase of the Declaration of Faith in the Koran

"What are we willing to sacrifice?... When called upon we will consider it an honour and a privilege to shed our blood."
Riyadh ul Haq, London, 2005

Shower

I pick up Madeleine yesterday evening and we head to the pool (Eitan has a play-date). Madeleine's swimming has come a long way and she is able to touch the pool floor on the deep-end - 3.5 meters. She is also adjusting to her new classroom with teacher Ms. Reynolds, who taught Eitan last year. I tell Ms. Reynolds at drop-off this morning: "Same family, different personalities" and she chuckles. Already Madeleine says class is boring: "all we do is sit around all day." Well, anyway, yesterday she learned that a bear lowers its head when it is angry and ready to charge and that bear cubs are defenseless, a word she asks me to explain to her. Madeleine also works on her "summer journal" pasting photographs into her hand-made scrap book complete with descriptions only she understands.

Barcelona

Here's Sonnet in Barcelona on top of Casa Mila sometime in 2000. Casa architect Gauda was from Catolonia, Spain, and belonged to the Modernisme movement - he was famous for his unique style and individualistic and wacko designs (he died in 1926). Gaudí's first works were designed in gothic and traditional Spanish architectural modes, but he soon developed his own distinct sculptural style. French architect Eugene Viollet-le-Duc, who promoted an evolved form of gothic architecture, proved a major influence on Gaudí. But the student surpassed the master architect and contrived highly original designs – irregular and fantastically intricate. Some of his greatest works, most notably La Sagrada Família, have an hallucinatory power. The church is trippy.

Eitan is distressed this morning as his white Izod is too small and the alternatives are in the wash. At first he refuses to leave the house for school, but in the end we compromise and he wears his winter coat. It's 13 Celcius but so what?

Madeleine: "Can I ride Erik's motorcycle around the block?" (presumably Erik would drive but this unclear)

Madeleine wraps medical gauze tightly around her ankle. When I ask why, she very solemnly says: "Dad, my bones have rubbed together."

Olympics 2012

OK, it is a little premature but Eitan is trying out for the Wandsworth Swimming Club this Saturday (Madeleine is too young). Unfortunately for me and my unfulfilled athletic aspirations, London is not a swimming friendly town unlike, say, Mission Viejo or Fort Lauderdale. Most U.K. pools were built sometime around or shortly after The War and many are 33 meters (vs the standard 25 or 50m) and indoors - yuk. Despite this, England's squad has produced some recent world class competitors including David Davies (14:45 in the 1500m) and Christie Balfour (1:07 in the 100m breast-stroke). For the Olympics, lottery dollars are going into sports generally including swimming so there is a chance the home advantage will produce results (unlike the England football team). Eitan's sport is football anyways, which is perfectly sensible considering the tedium of laps and the 0500 wake-ups. Photo of Michael Phelps from U.S. Swimming.

Erik Zehender arrives yesterday from Stuttgart after ten hours on his Harley Davidson motorcycle. Erik and I have known each other since The Mighty First Boston, beginning our first after-college jobs in 1989. After First Boston, Erik collected his MBA at Chicago and went to Goldman Sachs in Frankfurt where he learned German on the job (Erik has always been tougher than me). The past four years he has travelled the world climbing mountains in every continent excluding Antarctica, and including the Alps, Himalayas, Tien Shan, Andes, Alaskan and Patagonian ranges. His goal, he says, was to climb the prettiest peaks in each of these ranges. He stays with us in London while checking out neighborhoods and next finance jobs in the City.

Le Big Mac

I read in today's Le Monde, of all places, that it is the 40th birthday of McDonald's Big Mac (image by Andy Flesses). The original recipe was stirred up (ar ar) by Jim Delligati for his Pennsylvania franchise and is now part of the cultural heritage of America (hear the French snigger). Today, a Big Mac is sold in 30,000 restaurants in 100 countries - none of which have gone to war with each other. The Economist magazine, famously, began using the Mac as a price index between cities: the average in the USA is $2.69 compared to $4.17 in Europe and $1.45 in China. We went just the other day, where the sandwich sold for £1.94 or about $4.00 49% more dear than America. What's up with that, Ronald?

St Paul's

I take this photo of Wren's Dome during intermission at The Globe, which spills onto the Thames embankment. Hidden by the dark are the cranes, which blight the skyline and seem to be everywhere - confirming London's growth, wealth and status (I fear the city becomes sanitised like Manhattan). My friend Tim Jackson once said: "Cities become beautiful 200 years into their decline" which holds mostly true for Europe, anyway. The crossway is the Millennium Bridge.

Sonnet double-books a private tour of her Fashion Now for Eitan and Madeleine's school and the deaf. Unfortunately both have been announced to the public publicly and the show ends September 23. What to do? What to do.

Today is the first day back to school. Eitan is up at 0600, dressed in his school colours and in our bedroom raring to go. Madeleine sleeps in - just another day, ho hum.

A Pound of Flesh

Sonnet and I go to The Globe last night to see The Bard's "Merchant of Venice" - my third of the season, lucky me. For those who don't recall their 10th grade Cliff's Notes, this is the play where merchant Antonio borrows 3,000 ducats from the Jewish money-lender Shylock. In place of interest and to prove his (villainous) friendship, Shylock excepts a bond for his principal plus a "pound of flesh" taken from nearby Antonio's heart. When Antonio's ship does not come in he must represent the bond.... Shylock and Antonio meet in the courts for settlement. Initially it appears that Shylock will have his revenge against the Christian Antonio, who has before treated him poorly. But as the blade is about to fall on flesh, Shylock's court fails him and he is told that "not a drop of blood" may be lost from the cutting (considered un-Christian) and any amount more, or less, than a pound must then be taken from Shylock. Finally, as Antonio's outcome is most certain death, Shylock is accused of murderous intentions and so must forfeit not only his bond but also his house and money which are split equally between Antonio and the state. This play raises the serious argument that Shakespeare was an anti-semite. Initially I was impressed that Shakespeare showed Shylock's ill-treatment and gave Shylock recompense through the courts - even if gruesome. In the end, Shylock is mocked by his daughter and assistant who leave hiim, his business associates and finally the Venetian court which fails Shylock and itself. The play was considered by Shakespeare to be humorous but the outcome raises questions from then and now.

"I am a Jew/ Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs/ dimensions, senses, affections, passions; fed with/ the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject/ to the same diseases, heal'd by the same means/ warm'd and cool'd by the same winter and summer/ as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed?/ If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you/ poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?"
Shylock, The Merchant of Venice

Sunday Walk

I am a bit knackered this morning having stayed up to listen to the Cal Bears play Tennessee in their season football opener at Memorial Stadium, Berkeley, which we win thrillingly 45-31 and so redeem ourselves from 2006's same-day fiasco. Cal's DeSean Jackson, a bona fide Heisman Trophy candidate, returns a punt 77 yards - his first touch of the ball this season and his fifth such return (the NCAA record is eight and Jackson is only a Junior). Go Bears!
I pick up Camilla for our Sunday morning walk (Paul returns from Boston today so cannot join us). Camilla seems to have grown a head since early summer and the kids are happy to be outside on a lovely morning. We climb a few trees then I take them through a pretend army drill, assigning various action roles and requesting a hand-salute and crisp "Sir!" from them the eager privates. The ultimate target is the Ice Cream Truck at the entrance to the park, and not surprisingly - Mission Accomplished.

Gil

We see the Tydemans yesterday and Gil (pictured with Natalie and Zak in the background) is the spitting image of his dad including his thoughtful contemplation of his life's surroundings like: "hmmm, I wonder if that birthday party has a proper permit?" We picnic at the Princess Diana playground, which is its usual buzziness with sand-castle-diggers, rope climbers and pirate ship explorers all. Afterwards we go into Hyde Park for hide-and -seek and other various exhausting games. The Tydeman's three children range from one to four and are all remarkably well behaved. Even Zak, the youngest whose birthday is this month, gently taps his mum's shoulder, clearing his throat and exclaiming a short "ah-hem" when he wishes her attention. OK, it's not quite like that but compared to Madeleine's lungs at the same age I wonder if we missed a trick or something. Justin busies himself with a new Nikon camera and otherwise has settled into the new ownership of his company, Selecta, which was bought by Allianz Capital Partners in July (Justin remains Chief Executive). Other then different time pressures, it seems to be business as usual and no stress to Justin.

Madeleine adopts a pineapple, naming it "perfect piney". I ask if she is upset when Sonnet cuts it to slices and Madeleine looks at me like I'm nuts.

Madeleine cries fowl when Eitan steps on her finger while they tree climb. I tell her she can either move her hand or I can yell at Eitan. She, whispering conspiratorialy: "Dad, I want you to yell at Eitan."

Bon Fuck'n Jovi

Here's a chestnut from August, 2000, taken on our way to the last concert ever at Wembley Stadium - Bon Jovi, dude! I organised a group of 30 fans and friends and on a lovely summer's evening we meet at The Globe pub on Baker Street then catch the underground to the sold-out show. The band opens with 'Living On A Prayer' and never looks back, only slowing when Jon Bon Jovi talks. I mean, who really cares that he starred in 'Young Guns II,' which he and us agree totally sucked? Otherwise they rock. I am happily pictured with Verena a Senior Executive at AOL who now lives in Germany, and Puk a fashion designer .

Madeleine, from the back-seat of the car: "If a mosquito could suck on a bone, would he like to do it? Answer it now Dad!"
Eitan prepares to jump from the pirate ship at the Princess Diana Playground (about 10 feet) until I scream at him. Says he: "Aw Dad, you're just thinking of yourself!"
"Weve got to hold on to what weve got
cause it doesnt make a difference
If we make it or not
Weve got each other and thats a lot
For love - well give it a shot"
From Living On A Prayer by Bon Jovi

The Machin Stamp

Arnold Machin who died in 1999 at the age of 88, is remembered as the creator of the iconic image of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth that has, since 1967, appeared on more than 175 billion Royal Mail stamps and is this year celebrating its 40th anniversary. Arnold was also a skillful sculptor, illustrator and ceramics designer.

I find an enormous spider in the bathtub while brushing my teeth this morning. The thing was, like, six inches leg-to-leg. The kids are fascinated and Madeleine shrieks for me not to hurt it as I scoop it up and chuck the thing out the window. Sonnet fortunately had left early jogging to work - otherwise there would have been screams.

Eye Exam

With Natasha, I take Eitan and Madeleine to a free NHS eye exam at Boots the chemist (this, I note, is the first time the word 'free' has appeared anywhere in this blog, or London for that matter). Eitan bravely goes first and politely answers the Optometrist's questions. Madeleine is naturally curious as we sit through the exam, much of it in the dark, and with strange contraptions like the one Eitan wears now to check peripheral acuity. Madeleine gets her turn too and I am happy to report that both children have excellent vision and do not need spectacles (much to each's great disappointment).

Madeleine during Eitan's eye exam: "What would happen if a knife went in your eye?"
Jeff: "Well, you would probably lose that eye."
Madeleine: "How about a really sharp nail?"

That River

Here we are at the River Thames near the Putney Boat House famous for rowing. In fact, this is where the Oxford-Cambridge boat race begins, stroking its way to Mortlake four miles or so down the river.

French ex-Prime Minister Pierre Messmer has died at the age of 91. Messmer was a faithful Gaullist and served under President Georges Pompidou from 1972-1974. Says President Sarkozy: "France has lost one of its greatest servants." Messmer's political career was inextricably linked to former President Charles de Gaulle. when France fell to the Germans in 1940, Messmer joined de Gaulle's Free French forces and fought in Italy, France and North Africa. After the war, he served in de Gaulle's government as defence minister.

McD's

Eitan loves a hamburger. This photo taken at the McBurger on Putney High Street, after which I take the kids to have their eyes checked. Over lunch we discuss the concept of "a strategy" as Eitan eats his least to most favorite items in order. For instance, Eitan's Happy Meal strategy is to eat his chips, then chicken nuggets and finally his cheeseburger. He does this at every meal - veggies first, then potatoes or starch and finally the meat or fish or whatever he likes best. Madeleine is a bit perplexed when I ask her for an example and she tells me her lunch strategy is "to eat with my mouth." I suppose this may qualify but the limited alternatives in her example to some kind of an outcome does not really seal the point (I tell her). Despite me, Madeleine enjoys her Happy Meal.

He Must Be A Republican

Senator Larry Craig (yes, Republican; photo NYT) said Tuesday that he regretted his guilty plea in connection with an airport restroom incident, and he accused an Idaho newspaper of hounding him in recent months - it's the media's fault, God damn it! (Craig was arrested 11 June, 2007, at the Minneapolist-St Paul Airport on supicion of lewd conduct. Craig insisted upon his innocence, disputing the officer's version of the event by stating that he merely had a "wide stance" and that he had been picking a piece of paper from the floor). Says Craig outside the downtown Wells Fargo building: “I am not gay; I never have been gay.” With wife holding hand, Craig, 62, apologized for “the cloud placed over Idaho” by his arrest and guilty plea to a misdemeanor charge of disorderly conduct. His deepest regret, he says, is that he pleaded guilty when he had done nothing wrong (this is a Senator, mind you). Craig said he had chosen to plead guilty without consulting a lawyer and before telling his family, in the hope that the case would just “go away.”

Separately, Wells Fargo issued a statement that it, too, is not gay.

Maida Vale

This picture is from our first London neighborhood circa 1998. I post today, our tenth anniversary in the U.K. - I would never have imagined. Let us see, the year we arrived also saw: Diana's end, Tony Blair's beginning, The Merlins win the World Series in 7; Mad Cow Disease; California smoking ban; Titanic wins 11 Oscars; Viagra; the first euro coin minted; the Lewinsky Affair; Pakistan goes nuclear; France beats Brazil 3-0 to win the World Cup; the Russian financial crisis; Google is founded and the world does not come to an end (though it rained a lot in England).

Canada

Here's the old photographer in his train cabin, circa 2002 when he was touring Canada's West.

Speaking of places I would like to visit, Sonnet and I are thinking about Christmas in... Poland! (her idea) while I have yet to see Prague or Venice. Soon enough, if not already, Eitan and Madeleine will be able to travel long-haul to exotic locations and I hope we do this while I can still boss them around. On my day-dreaming list I include Alaska (sadly we did not visit during our California courtship when a trip would have been painless), Patagonia and Egypt. I would also like to return to Central Asia to trek in the Pamirs or Karakorums famous for K-2. One day I will do the John Muir trail with the kids when they are older, and the Dolomites too. This is just a starter, mind you. Happily I can check off the Empire State Building with the kiddies thanks to Katie.

Whistler

I found this photograph, taken by Moe, while cleaning the attic over the weekend. In 2002 (I may have the year wrong), Moe and Grace explored the Pacific Northwest's British Columbia, taking a train through some of North America's most dramatic country. I don't know the f-stop or other data behind this image (perhaps Dad can email me) but the outcome catches the eye: a ripple adds movement to an otherwise peaceful setting bracketed by trees and the mountain. It is the perception of depth and stillness that I like, however. Not bad work for The Amateur Photographer, critiqed by An Amateur Photographer.

Diana

Today marks the tenth anniversary of Diana's fatal crash. Not surprisingly, Fleet Street covers the incident while Camilla Parker Bowles decides not to attend the remembarance ceremony after public polls showed we find her attendance inappropriate (now that is different, thank you Tony Blair). It is remarkable how much media attention Diana continues to receive - and how much speculation is given to her "destiny". My opinion is that, post-divorce from Charles and The Firm, Diana would have worked for Blair somehow exporting the British culture through public channels and taking on humanitarian causes - famously she raised awareness of mines by walking through a field in Angola. She also raised the profile, and love of the otherwise stiff and left-footed Royal Family. What politician would not want her endorsement? Diana would have battled the Royal Family for her place in history, and possibly been restored to the crown via Prince William. It would have been terribly entertaining, a secret pleasure for the Brits and America, and undoubtedly would have sold many copies of Tattler and People magazine.

Sonnet and I disembarked in London from Kazakhstan the day following Diana's Paris. Unawares, I awoke Sunday to find every television station showing documentaries of her while we were greeted to the incredible outpouring which lasted visibly months after her death. Kensington Palace was covered with flowers; Tesco's super market offered remembrance books and people queued for blocks to sign; the Royal Family was forced to acknowledge the tragedy while privately despising her. The fall-out goes on and on. The strangeness of those early days took years to reconcile against the British we know. The emotional cry in 1997 was against character, to say the least, and allowed for a collective expression of grief. My young secretary at Botts & Co., who I barely knew that year, was taken to tears for England's - and her own - loss.

Photo from The Reagan Library.

Got It

The kids have another couple weeks of summer holiday while Sonnet and I dig ourselves out of work, mail, gardening and housecleaning following America which already seems a distant memory. Looking forward, we plan to ease into autumn with Shakespeare, Brit Pop (various concerts to be seen: Fiest, Maximo Park, Editors, Frey, Chemical Brothers) and perhaps a trip or two to Europe.

Berries

Yesterday we head outside London to berry pick at the Home Cottage in Buckinghamshire - this being one of Sonnet's favorite Martha Stewart things (we will return in autumn for the pumpkins). We find blackberries, raspberries, sweet and sour plums and early cooking and munching apples both red and green. Sonnet spends the afternoon preparing berry crumble which we have with vanilla bean ice cream - it is out of this world and Madeleine's eyes glaze over as she eats. In the afternoon Eitan and I practice football while Sonnet and Madeleine ride Madeleine's bike. Madeleine no longer needs a hand getting going and is skilled on her wide turns. Nearby, our common offers the perfect manicured grassy field where falls don't skin. The common is otherwise the home of our local cricket club who meet Sundays, Mondays and Wednesdays during the summer (all newcomers welcome - goofy gear not provided). I learn that the common has been a public place since 1040. It was once used as a gentlemen's shooting grounds then a ladies golf course. Almost one thousand years - go figure.

Bank Holiday Weekend

The strangely named Bank Holiday Weekend is upon us. It is the last one of the summer and mercifully the sun shines (Almost always it rains - this dates back to at least 1997 our first and wettest summer in Great Britain). Yesterday kicks off in front of cartoons, pictured, while Sonnet prepares waffles and scrambled eggs,comme toujours dessus dimanche. Saturday was spent doing serious yard-work while the kids took care of the potted plants purchased at the nearby nursery. I'm a bit sore from all the bending over - middle age, no doubt. NB, favorite cartoons are Spongebob Square Pants, Powder Puff Girls and various gross-outs which I've never heard of before but they can name character for character. Where do they pick it up, I wonder?

Eitan wears his new football sweat pants, lads style. I order him to put on shorts (hot weather). He refuses adamently, stating: "I am myself, dad!"

1970

Photo taken by Moe on the porch of 1860 San Ramon, Berkeley. In the basement of the house, which I vaguely recall, Moe built a dark-room complete with chemicals, clocks and an enlarger to complete prints started with his Nikon F2 - the first camera to have a built-in light metering system which he purchased in Tokyo in '64 travelling with Grace after the Peace Corps. Interestingly, the b&w has two thumb tack holes so this shot was on display somewhere in the house.

Sonnet and I celebrate our 11th wedding anniversary today and the best decision I ever made. We were engaged in San Francisco in '95 shortly before I left California for New York and business school - that was a hard trip. Sonnet joined me three months later with her cat, and we haven't been apart since (me and Sonnet that is - the cat is in North Carolina somewhere). Sonnet supported us in NY working at Ann Taylor which also gave her a lovely and endless supply of new shoes. I studied away, made some good friends and was graduated in 1997. We then travelled Central Asia and the Karakorum Highway with Katie and prof. Ray Horton landing in London for Sonnet's graduate work at the Courdault Art Institute and many years with the V&A. Then: an investing job, the Internet, millions, kids, no job, no money and now Trailhead Capital. Life has been good all the way, baby.

King Kong

Here's a classic taken on the 80th floor of the Empire State Building. Eitan refused to make a funny face leaving me holding the bag.

We got back yesterday morning after an eventless flight - in fact, the kids slept five hours and very proud of themselves. We're greeted at Observatory by Natasha, our new afternoon care-taker, and Sonnet and I ditch to go for a lap-swim and lunch at the Petersham Cafe, which is fabulous and unexpected. It is one of Richmond's best and only open in the mornings and for lunch due to noise restrictions in the area. Everybody to bed by 8PM and Sonnet falls asleep reading the bed-time story.

Madeleine: "I can't wait to be in my own bed!"

Summer Of The Slug

We arrive safely to... rain! of course. Apparently the UK has seen about six good days of weather since we left mid-July. While bad for us, it is good news for some slimy creatures and the BBC reports that the wet cool weather is optimal for slugs who now may number 15 billion (photo from the WWW). That's 161, 290 per square mile. As one gardner says: "I'm a bit cruel when it comes to slugs. I chop them in two with a shovel." Of course this being England, the BBC will most certainly receive heated messages from the animal-rights quackos. This allows for a nice segue to London's most recent WWII memorial on Park Lane, honouring the fallen animals with the caption: "They did not have a choice." No shit mister. Neither did the soldier who charged Omaha or fought to save Stalingrad. Who are these people?

TWA

I photo the TWA Flight Center on the way out. The center, designed by Eero Saarine, was the original name for Terminal 5 at Idlewild Airport — now named the John F. Kennedy International Airport — for Trans World Airlines. The terminal was groovy with wide interior glass windows that opened onto parked TWA jets; departing passengers walked to planes through round, red-carpeted tubes (think: 2001 Space Odyssey). It was a far different structure and form than Saarinen's design for the current main terminal of Washington Dulles, which utilized mobile to take passengers to airplanes.

Design of the terminal was awarded to Detroit-based Saarinen and Associates and completed in 1962 and is today a National Historic Landmark. The building was the first airline terminal to have closed circuit television, a central p/a system, baggage carousels, an electronic schedule board and precursors to the now ubiquitous baggage weigh-in scales. JFK was rare in the airport industry for having company owned and designed terminals; other airline terminals were built by Eastern Airlines and American.

Following American Airlines' buyout of TWA in 2001, Terminal 5 went out of service. The Port Authority has proposed converting the main portion of the building into a restaurant and conference center, but some architectural critics opposed this move.

Weather Back Home

Here is our return forecast, for those-in-the-care. Note the clouds by London - but finger's crossed we have the wettest behind us. And what a miserable summer it has been weather-wise for the Brits. Record rain-falls, flash floods, river breeches... It ain't California, that is for sure.

Poolside

It is fair to say that the kids love water. Any day - like today - that has a pool is A-OK. They've been in lessons since age 2 and are not afraid of the deep-end. Devon and Eitan in fact swam laps. I have Grand Visions of Madeleine swimming the 200m butterfly a la Olympic champion Mary T Maegher (a Cal grad). I recall her '81 US Senior Nationals in Wisconsin where Maegher set world records in the 200 and 100 meter butterfly. The times for both records were considered astonishing, especially the 100m of 57.93 seconds which was the first time a woman was under 59 second for the distance. Both records stood for nearly two decades until the 100 was broken by Jenny Thompson in 1999 and the 200 by Susie O'Niel of Australia in 2006.

Our plane leaves JFK at 2020 arrving UK time tomorrow morning - groan. I ask the back-seat kids what they look forward to about their return to London. In unison they: "Nothing!" Yes, summer's end is a hard-knock but at least they have school and homework to look forward to.

Holiday's End

Eitan and Madeleine pose for what may or may not be our Xmas photo (since this is not the Philip Johnson house and instead somebody's backyard where we are trespassing - hello! - the holiday allure is dead). We are greeted this afternoon by Marcia who has returned from Vermont. The easy plan for tonight is pizza take-away and television. Bedtime will be early.

Glass House

We say our farewells this morning and hit the road for Bronxville and our last night in America. Sonnet suggests that we visit Philip Johnson's Glass House, an early work of his in New Canaan, Connecticut. Irritatingly, the $25 per person tours are booked solid for '07 and '08 and the in-town visitor center won't give us the address so I beg directions from a taxi who eventually tows us to a place which turns out not to be The Glass House but I take this photo of the imposter anyway. Beforehand, we have lunch on the cute little High Street and watch perfectly groomed mums, their nannies and totally hot, manicured teenagers wearing prada or La Coste moving along in packs. It turns heads, or at least mine anyway. I don't think I would last more than two hours in a place like this. At Starbucks, I comment to the cashier that New Canaan takes itself seriously to which he replies: "yeah, man, and you don't know the half of it." As I'm being served my dry, grande, light capocino a wistful mother-with-baby asks about moving to London. Grass is always greener, they say.

FYI - THIS is The Glass House which was probably 100 feet from us. So it goes.

Together

Our families reunion at Mary and Amado's Connecticut country house.

Red Bridge

That's me in front of the West Cornwall Covered Bridge in Cornwall, Connecticut. Litchfield County. The bridge was built in 1864 and crosses the Houstatonic River. It was not featured in "The Bridges of Madison County," Thank God. Nor does it have anything to do with Cornwall, England, which is the county farthest Southwest of our beloved Britain and home of famously named Land's End. It IS a lovely red bridge which has been servicing traffic, one way, for a long time and drawing tourists to the charming nearby town all year but especially autumn. Otherwise, Amado and I play our second game of tennis, which he wins 6-1 (my yesterday defeat: 6-0). Still, it is good to hold a racket a sunny Sunday. We end the afternoon swimming some laps at the club's 25 meter pool which prepares us for a final family dinner together on this visit. Rob, Sloan, Mary and I stay up late gossiping, googling people and dreaming of things to come and next togethers.

I ask Madeleine if she notices anything different (I've shaved my moustache). She: "Do you have new glasses?"

Madeleine in the SUV pipes up several times: "Daddy has new glasses!"

Autumn

Honied yellow dripping gold,

Leaf of autumn

in the cold

Dancing on

in crisp despair

Whirling on

enchanted air

Falling silently to

earthen tomb

Away from tree's

rooted arm

Perhaps the silence

broken then

By hollow cries

of autumn grief

Synchronized with

the falling leaf

S.K.Lindeman

Mary's Boys

Mary and Devon and Simon. Devon, the older one, has turned eight and Eitan looks up to him for all that he is - and especially his age. Devon plays football (check), is on the ski team (check check) and lives in New York City (check! check! check!). Simon bops in and out and the boys amuse themselves by "hiding" from us during our walk. Devon and Simon attend a primary school for Columbia profs where Amado teaches maths to 13 and 14 year-olds. He is well respected and serves as a confident, I understand. Without doubt those kids are in good hands.

Fungi

Mary, Sonnet, Devon, Eitan, Simon and I walk the Pine Nob trail, which is a small piece of the Appalachian trail, which is over 2000 miles (3,200 km) long on the Eastern Seaboard extending between Springer Mountain in Georgia and Mount Katahdin in Maine. Along the way, the trail also passes through North Caroline, Tennessee, Virginia, West Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, New York, Connecticut, Massachusetts, Vermont and New Hampshire. The trail was conceived by Benton MacKaye, a forester who wrote his original plan shortly after the death of his wife in 1921. MacKaye's Utopian idea detailed a grand trail that would connect a series of farms and wilderness work/study camps for city-dwellers. Our chunk is uphill for about two miles offering us a lovely view of the green leafed Berkshires (come back in four weeks and the colours do their famous change). We have p&j's and eat gorp before finishing up on an earned downward slope.

My photo of a mushroom (I think) on an oak. This was the only formation I saw like this today

All In The Gang

I take this photo the only moment the kids are without motion - watching "Spirited Away". The first night, all share a bedroom with double-bunk beds and lay away mattresses making for a Late Night. There is too much energy to go around and at least half the crew chattering away at midnight despite threats and extortions. The adults, for that matter, are not too much better off and happily lubed with adult drinks and conversation (I groan at the morning after). The order from left to right: Devon, Jaimes, Sophie, Simon, Maya, Madeleine and Eitan. There has been a little jockeying between ages and sometimes a younger kid or opposite sex is (purposefully) left out but overall they entertain themselves nicely and with good compromise and cheer. It is fun to observe their size and change plus we have a good few years before they are teenagers.

Deck

On Sloan's marriage to Rob: somehow I am blamed for a sloppy attack he made on her at a black tie ball... but that is for another story and anyway I am happy to be a part of the legend. Sloan's Sextant Partners now employs 60 people while she remains one of the top-producing partners - this while cutting back her practice to one client. The girls immediately head out for an afternoon run and I await her mint cocktail martinis.

Connecticut!

We arrive Friday at Mary and Amado's house on Woodridge Lake not far from Litchfield and less than two hours from the Upper West Side door-to-door. Eitan and Madeleine peel out of the car to hug Devon, Simon and Maya who they last saw in Paris. Stories of the four hour line to the Eiffel Tower are gleefully recalled then an afternoon free-for-all takes place in the backyard. Adding to the excitement is the arrival of the Sloan and Rob, who flew in Thursday with their team. Sophie and Jaimes join in the melee while us adults grin at each other and our kids. Our afternoon is spent catching up, jogging, canoing, dining and drinking vodka cocktails and beer. Rob has a go on the jumper - pictured.

Rob and I spend some afternoon discussing college football. He grew up in Columbus, Ohio, so the Buckeyes are a Big Deal - he frequently joins his friends at College Bend to see the important games. The Bears are ranked a place or two ahead of Ohio State in the pre-season polls and about ten below USC who again is #1 (ho-hum)

Hackey

I buy three Hackey Sacks for Eitan and Madeleine - the third is back-up for the Inevitable Loss followed by the Inevitable Tears. Eitan understands that Hackey is a good practice for football and he becomes obsessed with getting the moves right, arguing with me and Madeleine on the best technique. Madeleine goes along for the ride happy to be doing what Eitan is doing (much to Eitan's discontent). Any case, I recall Hackey from about the 10th grade circa 1982, when Ivor Brown and a crew of malcontents picked up the game. Ivor quickly dropped the sport to pursue other Ivy League enriched activities like water polo to get in to Brown but there you have it. For me, I pick up the game for the first time now and suggest to Sonnet that this may be better than an evening martini and television - she chortles. We prepare our departure from Vermont momentarily and I sneak in this last blog from here.

World record for hackey sack consecutive kicks is held by Ted Martin with 63,326, accomplished over 8 hours, 50 minutes and 42 seconds on June 14, 1997 at the Midwest Regionals in Chicago, Illinois. He was totally stoked!!

Sunset

This photo taken ten feet from where I write. No touch ups or other manipulations applied to the shot. I finish off the last of the chocolate chocolate chip ice cream and Sonnet takes the final slice of blueberry pie a la mode.

Oink Oink

We go to a local working farm to see the pigs, roosters, horses and baby sheep which has Madeleine going "awwww" (I resist the urge to connect chops and bacon). Eitan is not into the scene and lallygags. "I hate this place" he groans. I think it is also likely that he is jonesing from a sugar high: blueberry pie for breakfast and chocolate cake with chocolate chip cookies after lunch. Ah, the holiday will come to a painful end next week. From the farm we head for the swimming hole then pizza dinner. Everybody is tired so we take the edge off with a Disney movie - the same one from yesterday and the day before. But hey, for Eitann and Madeleine - repetition is insight. For us: two hours bliss.

A quick read on London's weather: 55 degrees and rain. Bunk.