Shades

Kids snapping at each other. Patience in limited supply. Yep, we are well into the holiday. Yesterday sees us at the lake where we have lunch, pictured -- Madeleine has her quotient of 'burgers' or one a day (at least). We are blessed with blue skies and perfect alpine temperatures allowing us to keep the windows open throughout the night. I tap away at some work, sometimes stressful work since I am away from my office, but it is hard to beat the scenery. How nice to be away from all that concrete, if only for a brief while.

Boy And Tree

Madeleine: “What do you want to talk about?”

Me: “Well, that is a nice idea. How about cats?”

Madeleine lights up: “Ok.”

(We have promised Madeleine a cat when we return to London. She has been on a pet campaign for some long time now.)

Me: “Why do you want a cat anyway?”

Madeleine: “Well, it is because I love animals. And I want a bigger pet. And one that is not nocturnal.”

Me: “Do you have any names in mind?”

Madeleine: “Eitan has already come up with a nick-name. His nick-name for the cat is 'dog.'”

Me: “Dog?”

Madeleine: “Yes, get it dad?”

Me: “That is going to be one confused cat.”

Madeleine: “You just don't understand pets that's all.”

Me:

Ze Family

Here we are this morning, shortly before Gracie and Moe return to the Bay Area (we stay through the week end and will see the gang tomorrow). Katie is sadly missing for the picture as she return to New Yawk on Sunday.

More dinner table discussions about work.

Sonnet: “How many years of education do you think Moe and Grace needed to do what they do?”

Madeleine: “Including reception?”

Me: “Including reception.”

Madeleine: “For Gracie, 25 years.”

Eitan: “For Moe, 25 years and for Gracie, 15.”

Madeleine: “What? Only 15? They call Gracie 'The Big Cheese!' (Grace was the Executive Director of The Link To Children, a non-profit that she founded to provide early childhood mental health; she is now Clinical Director).

Grace: “25.”

Madeleine: “See! I knew it!”

Grace: “I was unusual since I was working so spread my PhD over several years."

Moe: “I went straight through to Law School, so 20."

Sonnet: “I would like to bring home the point: you have a lot of studying ahead of you.”

Eitan, Madeleine:

Sonnet: “A lot of work but it can be a lot of fun.”

Lake Alpine West #5

At the dinner table.

Sonnet: “You were a ping pong champion?”

Moe: “Seventh grade.”

Sonnet: “Moe grew up in St. Louis. In Missouri.”

Moe: “I beat Jimmy Chervitz. I beat him in his home, which was unusual. He was more experienced then me. We had some tough matches but I won two out of three. We then went to the principal and informed him that we had played at home. The principal said we had to play at school, during lunch time. So we did it again. And I beat him. Seventh grade champion. Then I got to play the 8th grade champion – Bob Allen. And he beat me, it was humiliating. All his friends were cheering. Bob Allen then played the 9th grade champion Ronald Scher in the school auditorium in front of the whole school. Ronald Scher was a nationally ranked ping pong player who just toyed with Bob then killed him. I was thrilled.”

We discuss what adults do at work.

Eitan: “Well, first they wake up at 7AM to get ready. They are grumpy and drink a lot of coffee, which they take with them to work”

Madeleine: “Do they play video games like in (TV program) The Office?”

Me:

Sonnet: “What do you think I do?

Madleine: “Play video games?”

Sonnet:

Madeleine: “Work on your computer and stuff?”

Sonnet: “Close enough.”

Eitan: “Computers are not innocent, you know. People can get killed on them.”

Madeleine: “No they don't.”

Eitan, matter-of-factly: “Yes they do. Like that time on Facebook when a teenager met somebody who said he was a teen-ager then killed her.”

Madeleine: “Is that true? Why would he want to kill a teenager?” (We have been discussing the Internet and never to communicate with somebody who approaches you or you do not know)

Lake Alpine Sunrise #2

Madeleine and I agree to rise early and take photographs at Lake Alpine. The alarm goes off at 5:20AM and I force the poor kid from her deep slumber. She clutches doggie but pulls herself together and we race up the highway as the dawn stretches before us, rewarded by the most spectacular morning – pictured. Madeleine shivers - “can we go yet?” but I give her a hug and thank her for joining me – I hope she remembers this. Sometimes it is nice to be reminded where we really are in this cosmos. Afterwards I gas up at Camp Connell – it is 7AM – and a greybeard sits at the counter drinking black coffee. We nod at each other while I pay for Madeleine's hot chocolate. “Good to be alive,” we agree.

Madeleine: "Dad, how long did it take you to learn to fast type?"

Me: "It took a while."

Madeleine: “How long?”

Me: “I don't know. I took a class in high school.”

Madeleine: “Yeah, but you only went for one day.”

Me:

Madeleine: “You didn't go back because of that girl!”

Me:

Madeleine: “The one that lost all her back teeth.”

Me: !

(Madeleine correctly recalls the story but it was sixth grade and I dropped computer sciences at Lawrence Hall of Science, too scared to join the class 15 minutes late because of my crush on Erin O'Leah who, indeed, had no back teeth.)

The Road

The distance between our cabin and Lake Alpine is 20 miles on Route 4 (pictured behind Eitan) and uphill, ascending from 5,000 to 7,300. For the last twenty years I have contemplated the challenge, the last time being 1995. That year I got as far as Bear Valley or 17 miles. Sonnet was meant to supply water around two-hours into the run but, famously, she mis-understood my signal to pull-over as “A-OK” and drove right past. Dehydrated and half-dead I pulled into the Bear Valley Lodge and begged somebody to drive me the last three miles to the lake. Oh, boy. So yesterday I take a stab at the distance departing at 2:30PM with a liter of water and high hopes. Even following last year's dreadful marathons, I have always assumed that my determination supercedes my body's abilities and, while I am no longer 23, the adjustment made with a slower pace. Chuck that one out the door. I made it to 12.5 miles and thankfully, without a plan, Sonnet back-tracks to pick me up. So, defeated again, I am grateful for the lift. We drive the rest of the way and I reward myself with a skinny dip.

Madeleine, aghast: “Dad! You are naked!”

Me: “Well, nobody can see.”

Madeleine: “That is so disgusting.”

Me: “Sweetheart, what I have learned is that the more you age the less concerned you are about showing it.”

Madeleine: “So you must be naked all of the time.”

Joy!

Eitan (10AM): "Can I have a piece of cake?"

Sonnet: "No! You can't have a piece before lunch."

Eitan: "Dad – can I?"

Me: "Go for it."

Sonnet:

Me: "Vacation rules."

Sonnet rolls her eyes disapprovingly.

Me: "The thing is, you are going to feel awful afterwards."

Eitan: "It is worth it."

Madeleine sees Eitan: "Can I have a piece of cake too?"

Me: "No."

Madeleine: "Why can Eitan have a piece of cake and I can't?"

Me: "That is just the way it is kid."

Madeleine helps herself looking me in the eye, shaking her head: "Oh, dad."

Hills

Sonnet sets the example for us all – here she is running 11 miles at altitude. While Sonnet sticks to her schedule, Katie and I hike the same trail with the kids which begins at Bear Valley and continues to Lake Alpine or about three miles out and the same back. It is a beautiful day in the mountains with blue skies and warm alpine temperatures. The exposed groves covered with alpine flowers. The kids happy to be unbathed and we oblige them: each covered with a layer of dirt (this against every grain in Sonnet's body). I reason that they swim at the rec center so the chlorine strips away the worst of it. Moe keeps busy with cabin chores while my mother adjusts to her new knee – she uses a walker and determined to get on with it. My parents are now grandparents and how I remember Dorothy and George.

Hammock

Over dinner, we have a conversation about the value of money.

Katie: “How much do you think your house cost?"

Eitan, matter-of-factly: “About two thousand pounds”

Madeleine: “That guy (Richard, who sold us the house) said it is fifty pounds. But that is just a lie.”

Me:

Madeleine: “Natasha showed us a house as big as Eitan's foosball table and it was between £4,000 and £5,000.”

Eitan: “No it is not.”

Madeleine: “It is. You just did not see it in the newspaper!”

Me:

At the rec club.

Madeleine: “Give me ten dollars.”

Sonnet: “Try again.”

Madeleine: “Give me ten dollars now.”
Sonnet: “Assuming you change your manners and I give you ten dollars, what are you going to do with that money?”

Madeleine: “I don't know. That is why I'm going the snack bar.”

Eitan: “I want some nachos and chocolate.”

Madeleine: “I am going to get a slushie. Or some skittles.”

Me: “You eat that stuff?”

Madeleine: “Dad! We're kids. Of course we do.”

Rec Center

Eitan comes back from the snack bar.

Me: “What did you get?”

Eitan: “A 'Choco-Taco.'”

Me: “What's that?”

Eitan: “Um, dad, it's a chocolate taco.”

Me:

Eitan: “I love the creamy chocolaty bit. Every one is in the mood for it.”

Me: “If you're a kid....”

Eitan fondles his 'Choco-Taco,' takes bite, rolls eyes back into head.

Sonnet gets the kids a “mix-pack” of various cereals.

Me: "What's your favorite?"

Madeleine: "Frosted Flakes and Fruity Loops ."

Me: "Do you eat those first?"

Madeleine: "I save the best for last. And by the way they're not my favorite cereal."

Me: "What is your favorite cereal?"

Madeleine ponders this for a moment.

Eitan: "Cocoa Rocks? Sugar Pops? Captain Crunch?"

Me: "What's yours?"

Eitan: "Cookie Crisp which are chocolate chip cookies."

Me: "Your mother lets you eat those?"

Eitan. "No, you do."

Me: "Really? Like, when?"

Eitan: "When we were in Cuchara."

South Grove

Katie, despite her knee surgery last week, is trooper on our six mile hike of the South Grove. Here they are next to an old friend.

At the dinner table.

Madeleine: “I hate being the youngest in the family.”

Sonnet: “You're not - Tommy is the youngest."

Madeleine: “Wait, listen to me. Tommy is, like, a teenager because hamsters only live to three-years old.”

Sonnet: “Touchee.”

Madeleine: “What does that mean?”

Sonnet: “You scored a point.”

Old Agassiz

We hike the South Grove and see the largest tree in the world: the Louis Agassiz tree which is "only" 250 tall, but it is over 25 feet in diameter six feet above the ground (my picture of a more humble brethren). Looking upwards, it is easy to compare the tree to an oil tanker or skyscraper. Sierra redwood trees are the largest trees in the world with many here between 250 and 300 feet tall and the tallest about 325 feet high. While their height is impressive, the real wonder of a sierra redwood lies in its bulk: many of these giants have diameters in excess of 30 feet near the ground, with a corresponding circumference of over 94 feet.

I learn that most trees have their diameter measured at breast height, which is about four feet above the ground on the uphill side of the tree (the redwood grove is on a steep incline). Sierra redwoods, however, are measured at six feet above the ground as their is a major circumference increase a the lower end of the tree. this "butt swell" helps the redwood ion a couple ways. It adds stability to the tree, just as a wide stance adds stability to a a football player. Also, it helps deflect falling vegetation from the tree's base. This decreases the chance of the redwood being injured by fire when that debris eventually burns (source: parks.ca.gov).

As for mass, these redwoods weigh in at 4,000 tons and may provide enough wood to build over 40 five-room homes. They are as tall as the Statue of Liberty.

Madeleine: “What's your name?”

Me: “Jeff?”

Madeleine: “What's this?”

Me: “Your nose.”

Madeleine: “What's in my hand?”

Me: “Nothing.”

Madeleine: “Jeff knows nothing.”

Madeleine, sweeping, regards me on the couch: “Dad do you enjoy watching your children work?”

Shashone

We drive to Bear Valley, arriving in time for a trip to the rec center pool. The kids are into their head-phones ('Harry Potter' of course) while Katie and I catch up about her business over flank steak. The Op-Ed project is going great guns and Katie is now working with Stanford and Yale while more institutions are lining up. Katie's editor-mentor program numbers 70 including "14 Noble and Pulitzer prize winners. She is jamming and yak yak yak on the telephone. When not syncing with New York, she gives her full attention to the Shakespeares who adore their "Auntie Katie." A good thing, too, since vacations mean idle time and in our case it is to the point of distraction so, dear reader, I distract: chores. This receives their heartfelt indignation (Madeleine: "Dad! This is a holiday!) but there will be no "lazy lunkers" in our family. Madeleine sweeps the deck from front to back while Eitan does the driveway (I overhear them arguing over who has the better deal). Though they would never admit it, it puts everybody in a better mood.

We discuss chores.

Eitan: “It is so unfair. We kids have to do everything.”

Me: “How is that?”

Eitan: “Well, the adults can swim as much as they like. They do not have to do any work. They can do whatever they want that is not against the law.”

Madeleine: “They can't smash a house.”

Eitan: “Madeleine, that is not a chore.”

Madeleine: “I am just saying, Eitan.”

Me:

Tim CFO

We have breakfast at the Claremont Hotel with Tim, who arrives yesterday in the Bay Area. Tim and Kitty have closed their life in Brooklyn to raise their two children, both under two, in California and around Kitty's friends (she is native to the state). Tim has taken a CFO role with venture-backed company Simbol which is in the renewables space. Simbol has proprietary technologies that strip precious minerals, in particular lithium, from the water produced in geothermal plants in Palm Springs. Tim is in his comfort zone having returned to the energy industry where he began his career at Enron.

From the Claremont, Sonnet and the kids visit Alison, whose wedding to Ivor where Sonnet and I met in 1993. Wow. I am with my friends at Correlation Ventures who had a small closing the other day and contemplating investing their dough while raising more capital. Recall this is a quant driven venture strategy and, as my friend Tony says, should "this jumbo fly" they will kill it (in my humble opinion). The venture industry inefficient when it comes to syndicating deals. Add to this A) 40% of US financings under-subscribed; B) the best companies tend to be in under-subscribed rounds and C) a VC has no idea at the time of investment if his company Google or a dog, well, you have a winner assuming, of course, your strategy exploits. While on venture, my friends at BlueRun sell Slide, founded by PayPal Max Levchin, to Google for $228 million while Industry Ventures in five of the 50 likely IPOs filed with the SEC. A nice week for venture.

From the East Bay, we drive to my parent's house in the mountains. Katie takes the kiddies leaving me and Sonnet to ourselves in the rental SUV. We listen to the SilverSun Pickups along the way as Christian treated us to their concert the night before at the Fox Theatre in Oakland. They are a new top band and we will definitely catch them when they come to London. Brixton, baby.

Eitan Moe

Our jet lag fatigue expressed in various ways: me, stress. Sonnet, exhaustion. The kids: they get wiggy. Last night Christian over for dinner and beforehand we stroll to Cordornices Park to tire out the Shakespeares which, instead, makes them hyper. They finally crash out around 9PM (5AM GMT). Eitan gets up from the table, goes into the den and plonks down asleep. We soon follow.

Grace had a knee replacement last week and recovers in an outpatient ward. She is well taken care of. We visit her and boy, one can really see the surgery. She is in good spirits and seeing the grand kids a blessing. Eitan and Madeleine about the age when I recall Grandma and George -- we visited Columbus, Ohio every summer for a few weeks of swim lessons, fishing and King's Island amusement park. All this before my Grandfather passed away in '76 and Dorothy moved to the top tenth floor of Bay Village in Sarasota, Florida. She was wise, assuming correctly that she would see more of her grandchildren in a gulf climate.

Sonnet and I up at the crack of dawn to run Nimitz Trail, where I have been going since age three through different reflective points of my life: college, First Boston, business school and now London, most recently in May. Life may change but not the fire trail. A Eucalyptus Grove, with its stripped bark and hanging leaves, makes me think of Hallowe'en which is a nice time in the Bay Area since often warm and football season in full swing. Today it is foggy and damp - pea soup - and it takes us a few miles to warm up. Sonnet will run a half-marathon in September and we cruise along doing 8 minute miling at one point. She is fit.

Kate - Madeleine - Diner

Ray

We are seated with Ray, a groovy dude from a by-gone rock-and-roll era which he photographed and critiqued. Ray is a cousin to Jeanine and close friends with Andy Parker, the guitarist for legendary band UFO who gave us "Too Hot To Handle" and the seven-minute opus "Love To Love," which is well visited on YouTube. UFO came together in the early '70s as a transitional group between hard rock and heavy metal and Ray was with them all the way. They rocked. He describes the back stage and hanging out which allowed him to produce intimate work. He was part of the scene. Now, Ray laments, photags allowed three songs to get their shot. And worse, I speculate, the sex and drugs and rock and roll gone with Led Zepplin leaving us with Boyzone and Boyz II Men. What's a writer to do?

"Oh its been too many times, and I can't go back

Night bars, guitars, rundown hotels like shacks

What it mounts up to, I don't want it at all

Lost you, and I want you today."

--Love To Love by UFO

Leon Gets Married

Sonnet and the kids arrive Sunday afternoon and I greet them at SFO, having arrived the day before. I have to hustle across the Bay Bridge as Leon and Sunny's wedding this afternoon at Joaquin Miller Park overlooking the Bay. Here we are at the reception.

Spare

We unpack from Italy and prepare for the USA -- I leave tomorrow, followed by the kiddies on Sunday.

As Trailhead Capital's Managing Director and Compliance Officer, I receive a recent clarification from the UK's Financial Services Authority (FSA) which decided to apply a "Cold Shoulder" to Daniel Posen, Brian Myerson and Brian Padgett, who made a "deliberate attempt to circumvent the requirement under Rule 9 of the City Code on Takeovers and blah blah." What I was being clarified on, "Cold Shouldering," states that I - as an authorised firm - "should not act, or continue to act, for any of the three .. individuals.. on any transactions to which the Code applies." The ruling surprisingly clear (here is Webster's definition of a 'cold shoulder': "Intentionally cold or unsympathetic treatment; 'got the cold shoulder from an old friend'"). The rarity of a "Cold Shoulder" may suggest the serious nature of the punishment - I mean, nobody wants to receive one even if they are stealing from Grandma's pension.

The FSA, by the way, is an independent non-governmental quasi-judicial body that regulates the UK's financial services industry. The FSA tries to protect the London market-place rather than the individual investor -- a big difference from the SEC. The FSA's board is appointed by the Treasury. In June this year, George Osborne, Britain's new Chancellor of the Exchequer, announced his plan to abolish the FSA and separate its responsibilities between a number of new agencies and the Bank of England. Until the financial collapse, US Republicans loved the FSA since its "framework" non-regulatory - members meant to police themselves inside a code of professional guidelines or be struck. Such irony, then, that the Tories first action is to end it.

Goodbyes And The Cosa Nostra

We go to the beach one last time before heading to Pescara and the airport.

On the ride, Roberto and I talk about Italy's Mafia which, he notes, replaces the government in Italy's south where people do not otherwise pay taxes. Instead, they pay the cosa nostra. The amount depends on the size of your business or income and, failure to comply, may result in violence or loss of possession or destruction of one's house. People pay and live in fear. The Mafia's stronghold Naples while they control everything from Rome to Sicily -- Italy's south compares to the third world so young men go to Milano bringing their ways with them. I ask how one joins the mafia which, according to Roberto, rakes €90 billion from the economy. "One does not join unless you offer something the Mafia needs. You have to be violent, a member may kill over 100 men in his lifetime. No, it is the family. You are born into the Mafia and taken care of. Then you give back." Burlesconi is from the south and connected to la familia - he is useful and allowed to control the media but, says Roberto, this is changing with the Internet. "People do not understand but the are learning. Unfortunately Italy does not have an opposition party." The next election is in three years - "maybe." As for the church: "they control the largest private bank in Italy (the Vatican owns aprox. one-third of Rome's property and, of course, enjoys its own jurisdiction). The Vatican is protected. They do business with the Mafia. They are in bed together -- it is how the Mafia survives."

Despite it all, Roberto is optimistic. He notes Italy's middle is free from the Mafia and this is a main reason he lives in Tortoreto. He hopes that things will change "perhaps it will take as little as a generation" but he does not seem himself convinced. We wave "arrivederci!" I hope our paths cross again.

Madeleine brings her cork-man to the beach, which she made last night at the dinner table with the wine cork and toothpicks.

Madeleine: "Do you like him more, or less, with a hat?"

Me: "With." (she puts a bottle cap on its head)

Madeleine: "You know it is actually more fun to make something without spending money."

Me: "Since when? Like yesterday?"

Madeleine, indignantly: "No."

Me: "But you love to spend your dough. It burns a hole in your pocket."

Madeleine: "Well, not all the time. It's hard not so spend your money when you're at a place you have never been before."

Me: "On what?"

Madeleine: "Souvenirs" (she gives me a look like I am crazy for not knowing)

Mediterannean Sunset

Hotel Capitano is one block from the beach. Sonnet tells me -- and not surprisingly -- there has been a lot of development since she was here last. The beach front where we are mostly the same but behind us, towards the hills, there are new stucco condominiums in various colours; Roberto points out, horror, a grocery store. This is a small vacation town and not much more to it than that, really. An ancient railway separates the old town from the new and the train's whistle a nice reminder of the evening's hour. Yesterday we are treated to an afternoon cooling shower+rainbow then a beautiful sunset, pictured. We enjoy our last night at a small family pizzeria: Sonnet orders one with gorgonzola with radichio, another with potatoes with rosemary and a third with capers, tuna and tomatoe sauce - washed down with two large bottles of Moretti beer. I eat so much I am nearly sick. The kids stick to their salami pepperoni. Madeleine coos "the best pizza I ever had."

Sonnet: "I think I saw a German family on the beach."

Eitan: "Could you tell because they were wearing socks with their sandals?"

Sonnet asks Eitan to call Madeleine to dinner, which he does at the top of his longs.

Sonnet: "I could have done that."

Eitan: "But you didn't."

Me: "Fair point."

On Being A Teenager

Over breakfast: what do you kids want be like when you are teenagers?

Eitan: "I want to be like Alex Rider" (from the "Alex Rider" series; sort of like the Hardy Boys)

Me: "Why?"

Eitan: "I don't know. Because he's sporty and doesn't take drugs. Plus he is quite calm under pressure. And he is 14."

Madeleine: "I don't ever want to take drugs or go to 'Fat Sam's every day."

Me: "Fat Sam's?"

Madeleine: "The chicken place (in Sheen). It's called 'Sam's' but I call it 'Fat Sam's.' Billy's sisters go there every day."

Me: "Are they fat?"

Eitan: "Uh, y-e-ah."

Sonnet: "Sam's does not count as food."

Me: "Anything else about being a teenager?"

Together: "No."

Eitan: "Are you going to do anything interesting?"

Me: "Do I ever do anything interesting?"

Eitan: "Well, no."

Me: "Not even when I am being goofy?"

Eitan: "That's just being goofy."

Me: "How about when I am telling a story?"

Eitan: "Can we just go?"

Familia

Me: "Shall we go to the beach?"

Madeleine: "I need to rest, Dad."

Me: "Rest? From what?"

Madeleine: "From getting up early to go to the bakery."

Me: "Tough day huh?"

Madeleine: "Yep."

Madeleine serves herself a bowl of chocolate Coco Pops after eating donuts.

Madeleine: "I am going to plant these."

Me: "Getting bored there Madeleine?"

Madeleine: "Yeah" (bolts from the breakfast area).

In the afternoon.

Madeleine: "Dad, we are so bored."

Me:

Eitan: "Can we go to the beach? Can we?

Madeleine: "I want to have a nap."

Me: "You want a nap?

Madeleine: "Yes."

Me: "Boy you must be really bored if you want a nap."

Eitan: "Can we go to the beach?"

Me:

Eitan: "You can take your computer to the beach, you know."

Me:

Eitan: "Can we go to the beach?"

Eitan: "Can... we ... go.. to the beach?"

Eitan: "Dad, please.

Me: "You want to go to the beach?"

Eitan: "Yes."

Eitan: "Dad?"

Eitan: "Dad?"

Eitan: "Dad."

Eitan: "Dad pleassseeee.

Full Deck

We watch a friendly crew across the day arguing, shouting and throwing down cards like nobody's business. Points are kept on a small white scratch pad. These dudes are serious. I like how the various ages find each other - the teens on one side of the lido; mums with their babies or toddlers on the beach under an umbrella or sunbathing. Old codgers .. pictured, having the most fun. Dads sit around sans shirt smoking cigarettes, yelling at the bambinis. Eitan makes a few friends on the sand football pitch .. nobody understands each other but, ah, the joy of sport. They genuinely like each other and I have to drag the boy away at sundown.

I ask Madeleine to go up to our room to get an envelope with some notes on it.

Eitan, eating an ice cream, raises an eyebrow over the unfairness: "Why don't you do something for yourself for once."

Sunset

Sonnet orders "peperosso pizza" and the kids crushed when a red-pepper pizza arrives. They refuse to eat.

Me: "Do you like it here?"

Eitan: "Yes, I think so."

Me: "You don't seem sure."

Eitan: "I guess I am a Sheen kind of guy."

Sonnet: "Tomorrow is our last day in Tortoreto. Let's spend all day at the beach!"

Eitan: "Yeah!"

Madeleine: "I don't want to go the beach."

Me: "That's cool Madeleine-- there is a great museum that we can go to instead. Thanks for reminding me."

Madeleine: "No way am I going to that."

Sonnet: "How about the church? I bet it is well worth seeing."

Me: "We can go to the church and the museum. Let's take a picnic since we should leave right after breakfast."

Madeleine: "Oh, no, you always want to do those things. Why can't we just go to the beach?"

Volley Ball

I sit at a round table blogging and watching Italian television. I recognise the show hosts, or at least their quality, having followed Silvio Berlusconi. Tonight the gals chirp away about Afghanistan and some wildlife. Roberto offers me a double-espresso even though it is after 11PM yet how can I resist? Ten years ago it would have been difficult to travel with work -- but now everything real time even at the beach or sitting, here, in the bar. Tortoreto closes early -- dinners may be late around 9 or 10PM -- followed by a stroll and then .. bed. The hotel staff walk around me preparing for tomorrow wiping tables, putting glasses in their place and smoking a fag or two outside, in the street. The visiting teenagers must be bored out of their minds but otherwise they are sure fun to watch at the lido. How cool that we will soon have a couple of them in our house. Such yuf! Such drama! Will we be prepared?

Jump

This afternoon sees some clouds and by sunset the beaches clear as the Italians away for dinner or their families. We enjoy the evening's warmth, reminding ourselves: this is not England in February. The Shakepeares enjoy their freedoms making sand-castles and eating junk food - today, for instance: breakfast, jelly donuts and coco pops; 11AM, crisps. No lunch. 2PM, gelato. To compensate, for dinner I force Eitan to eat his eggplant which draws tears of protest. I threaten to join him at the table until Midnight or until the eggplant gone. He tentatively forks the eggplant then makes regurgitation noises before anything in his mouth. The two tables nearby us stair. I order him: eat! He chews a few times then swallows, grimacing in pain. Even Madeleine stops what she is doing (making a doll with a wine cork and toothpicks) to watch how far dad will go to prove a point. Eat, I command. The next bite goes down just as dramatically leaving one more strip+a plate of tomatoes. Sonnet suggests I am being a bit rough on the boy but then: 100 others are eating the God damn eggplant. Eitan can, too. Madeleine offers to share his piece but no: he.. will.. eat.. the eggplant himself. Finally he finishes leaving the tomatoes. I decide the tomatoes a battle for another night. What theatre.

Sonnet and I are experimenting with the children being on their own. We ask (order?) them to spend a half hour together by themselves - they head for a gelato and the gift shop so Madeleine can spend her €10. God bless. They are anxious but it has to happen sometime. Eitan will begin walking to school by himself from September. Here seems as safe a place as any to start. By the fourth grade I was catching the number 7 bus from Grove St and Center St or walking home through campus. Sonnet worries about traffic or abduction but both kids aware. It is part of the growing up, no?

Civitella Aerea

We walk through the inhabited 14th century village before the fortress (the modern escalators of course "guasto"). Here one may find the narrowest street in Italy set up, I am sure, 500 years ago for i turisti. The kids, by this point, so tired they are in tears so we sit themin front of a gilat doppio at the bar - nobody bats an eye. The photo, from the www, does not show the mountains behind us nor give a sense of the steep hillside which made this such an important, and impenetrable, military installation.

Alto Tortoreto

I awake this morning to espresso and Mirella's morning lemon cake which is fabuloso. The kids smother theirs with Nutello and blast off. We have another espresso with the neighbors. Costantinos is adding four bedrooms to his house ("Normally I start with the house then the swimming pool. But I wanted to use the pool before I was 70."). Since he is learning as he goes, we practices with a dog-house for the four dogs ("la familia"; Madeleine smitten). Yes, I am invited to help which, a bit slow from montepulciano+30 degrees by 9AM, not my first idea for the morning but it turns into joy: we rip off a roof, pull and hammer nails, re-roof and cover with insulation... shirts off, yelling at the women or the bambinis .. all the while giving each other grief (him: "la professora"; me: "the apprentice."). We quit by noon for more pasta and wine and fruit; Constantinos sings opera and I join him (montepulciano) and even the Shakespeares overcome their bashfulness. They will remember this.

From lunch, we drive to the 13th century Fortress of Civitella del Tronto, one of the most impressive works of military engineering in Italy: a hill-city below a stone fortification over 500 meters long and 25,000 square feet. The structure an insurmountable bulwark for the enemies of the northern borders of the many Neapolitan realms (unfortunately my camera battery dies so I have no photographs). Madeleine and I walk the perimeter looking at the surrounding valleys, mountains and steep inclines to the fortress' base and wonder: would it be better to die from boiling oil or arrow through the heart? She wants to know if the boiling-oil can be hurled "by a slingshot" and I tell her I would rather go quickly, but oil might do better against an all-out effort to scale the walls. She ponders this as I describe boiling skin and sizzling eyeballs; guts spilled on the bloody ground and gore everywhere. I think she would enjoy the Midievil period - I seem to.

Mirella Costantinos

We spend a remarkable 24 hours in the countryside with our new friends Mirella and Costantinos. Mirella is the daughter of Tonino di Menico and she invites us to her house for the afternoon which turns into dinner which turns into late night and a sleep-over. I cannot recall similar such hospitality. We visit nearby Tortoreto Alto which is in the hills above Tortoreto with buildings that date to the 14th century including Chiesa di Sant' Agostino which is opened to us especially by an historian who is friends with Mirella - she calls him on her mobile and he arrives - pronto! - ten minutes later. The church founded in the 15th century and reconstructed in the 17th; the most important work of art is a painting by Mattia Preti of the baptism of St Agostino, a gift from the Pope, for Tortoreto's gifts of their worldly goods. We also enjoy an impromptu organ concert and are invited up a narrow staircase into the organ chamber to watch the professor play Ave Maria and other local hits. Sonnet wishes her father could have been there as Stan once played the organ for the local Catholic church in Steamboat Springs, Colorado.

To get to Alto, we pile into Costantinos truck which gets a nervous look from Sonnet but the kids love it. Mirella drives slowly and the drivers behind us move within a foot of our bumper gesticulating with fury despite the winding road and four kids+me in the carriage. I guess they have somewhere to go in a hurry. Dinner maybe? In our case, Mirella prepares the most amazing cured ham, aubergine and tomatoes from the garden; pasta and home-made sausages of multi-variety including my favorite, liver. 15 years ago Turino had seven then a heart attack. We all laugh since he is fine now but he no longer eats so many. At least at once.

Costantinos is an expert gardener and we discuss the possibility of a green roof at 45 York. He goes into his portfolio to show us what we may expect - the kids become involved and we agree some combination of wild flowers and herbs (it is now past Midnight). Madeleine offers blackberries. My first concern whether, in fact, the intended roof outside Eitan's bedroom, will hold up. I suggest Mom, who does not let us have dinner in the living room, would be none to pleased with a ton of dirt on her new carpet. Eitan snickers at that one.

Flower Girl

The market arrives, as it does every Saturday morning during summer, right next to our hotel filling the street with vegetables, cheeses, clothes, zucchini flowers, bracelets, bathing suits, underwear (me, loudly: "Madeleine, should we get you some pants?"), olives+an enormous roast pig sold either by weight or in buns as sandwiches which brings back memories of Lago di Albano where the Pope has his summer palace and Sonnet, Bru and I ate the most wonderful pork sandwiches and watched Roma football on a black and white television. This some many years ago now. From the stalls we head to the beach while Madeleine confined to a tee-shirt and canopy due to her delicate red skin. Our lobster is a trooper. Eitan befriends a group of seven or eight older boys who play sand football. None speak english so they point and jab at each other. Eitan's need for footie overcomes his reluctance; he has been watching them the past two days. It remains unbearably hot though I am not complaining - jogging nearly wipes me out. A summer storm blanks the beach and brings down the temps momentarily. Sonnet, Madeleine and I play "Crazy Eights" at the lido watching the storm pass over. Later, we send the Shakespeares down the block, by themselves, to get gelato. All this before lunchtime.

The kids read Simpson comics.

Me: "Do you think Homer Simpson is a good dad?"

Eitan: "Well, he's a normal dad."

Me: "Why is he a normal dad?"

Eitan, bored: "He drinks a lot of beer and he works at a nuclear power plant and stuff."

Me: "Am I a normal dad?"

Madeleine: "No way!"

Eitan: "Well, on the outside you are but inside - you're mad."

Me: "What is a normal dad?"

Madeleine: "He doesn't tell you off. He drinks three bottles of wine a week. He doesn't care if you miss school."

Me: "So how am I doing?"

Madeleine: "You drink more than three bottles of wine a week."

Me:

Delia

We are to the beach by 9AM. This follows a perfect cappucino which gets Sonnet and me going vrrooom. I am mostly content to sit under the canopy while the Shakespeares try their best to drag me in the water. Why spoil it? I tap away on my blackberry which raises Sonnet's eyebrow but it does make me happy. It is good to be busy even on holiday. Madeleine sunburns like a lobster.

This afternoon we visit Delia, pictured, who has a huge affection for Silver (they have not seen each other since '81 in Naples, where the di Domenico family lives when not it Tortoreto). Delia tells us how she taught Silver to make stuffed zuchini which won an award in an Alaska cooking contest -- Delia still has the newspaper clipping sent to her by Silver (this BTW gets a laugh from Sonnet who does not otherwise recall her mother being an enthusiastic cook). Delia owns a garden patch behind her house with luscious red tomatoes and smokes like a chimney; she calls Silver "argento" or Italian for silver. Sonnet recalls the first time she was here the di Domenico apartment half-finished so the living space one big open air terrace. Sonnet says "ten women would come to chat; Delia was the grand poobah. Each would stop by and buzz the door and sit on the terrace and drink coffee or wine and chat." One evening Silver showed the ladies her American bras and they thought - exclaimed! - that it was a marvel of technology with the wires and techno-fabrics and all that. This was '78 after all. In another instance, Sonnet brought her then boyfriend Pino to Naples. Delia asked - "so, are you engaged?" Sonnet replied no and Delie said: "So, why are you here?" Good point, I may suggest, 19 years later.

Sonnet and Madeleine look at statues of the Virgin Mary in the holiday shop.

Madeleine: "Wow, there must be a lot of Jewish people in this country."

Sonnet:

Tortoreto

Sonnet and the kids arrive yesterday in Tortoreto on Italy's eastern side straight across from Rome. I arrive today following late meetings in Knightsbridge. Tortoreto is a beach town that exists from May to September and nestled on the Abruzzo coast surrounded by dry hillsides covered by olive trees and wine vineyards; I am told by Roberto, who picks me up at the airport, that this region is known for its montelpuciano, a well regarded red wine. My photo of the Zeffiro Lido where our Hotel Capitano has its beach chairs and a crew of teen-agers hangs out infatuating on each other. I like these Italians.

Sonnet's family vacationed here 32 years ago as a way for Marcus to recover from his eye surgery. Stan and Silver were looking for a family-style location filled with sun and good food; they did not want a fancy resort - they wished"to be with the people" Sonnet says. The family introduced to Tortoreto by Captain Monti, who was the captain of a Pirelli cable ship which was docked in Anchorage as Pirelli laying cable off the coast of Alaska. Stan met Monti several years before through the Chamber of Commerce and invited him to dinner. Monti's workers from the Pirelli factory in Naples vacationed in Tortoreto including the di Domenico family whose brother owned the hotel where Sonnet stayed then and we stay now. The di Domenicos adopted Sonnet's family in 1978 -- this is where Silver learned to make eggplant parmigiana and Sonnet learned her first Italian. Sonnet recalls being sent to the local bar with an empty glass bottle to request a refill, which was cheaper than Coca Cola. She now brings a photograph of her and the di Domenico family which provokes exclamations of recognition from a bygone time. They are amazed at how Tonino looked. Madonna!