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.