Dog Days Of Summer

Like mother, like daughter

The kids remain on school-break and both nesting or, at least, sleeping until afternoon if I let them. It is hard for me to let go of my father and I urge them to get out of bed, do homework, work on the yard, walk the dog etc etc. No sound for a teenage kid worse than Dad walking up the stairs, rapping on the door before entering without an authorisation.

It's better for them when I am at the office (Since I work with France, France is on holiday).

Eitan and I have been going to for a morning jog in Bushy Park then the pool for some laps followed by coffee and croissants at an 'artisan' cafe near our house. It's a good combo for a workout; I am also looking into meditation.

Madeleine calls my mobile: "Do you want to buy an Izod shirt for 10 pounds?"
Me: "No."
Madeleine: "That was fast."
Me: "Okay, what's the deal ?"
Madeleine: "It's almost new. Only one owner and light blue."
Me: "Who's the seller ? "
Madeleine (pause): "Lucas. [Dad's note: Lucas is one of Madeleine's friends]. "He needs money for train fare." [Dad's note: the crew wants to take the train to Brighton for the day]
Me: "Tell Lucas if he wants to make some money he can come to our house and do yard work on the weekend."
Madeleine: "I am not going to tell him that !"
Me: "Gotta work, kid. I am not taking the shirt off your friend's back."
Madeleine: "Gee, thanks Dad. You make it sound like it's so unfair."

British Gold

Adam Peaty brings home the gold medal in the 100m breast stroke, as expected given his world record in the event. He does these Olympics in style, clocking a WR in the heats then again during the finals - 57.55. Gemini crickets, that's fast.  The last time a Brit won a swimming gold was the great Adrian Moorhouse, also in the 100m breast, in Seoul '88.  

The BBC interviews Peaty's parents in Staffordshire: "There was times I felt like taxi driver but I said to Adam, 'to be a champion you got to work hard - so get out of bed!' " Seems about right.

My cynicism for these Olympics, given the doping and general flimsiness of the Brazilian platform, fades away amongst the entertainment : the BBC delivers 16 channels of live broadcasts, which arrive around 5PM GMT (trials) then again at 12:30AM (finals). Who can't be inspired by it all ?

Louie In The House

Louie and Guilia (with a 'G') visit from NorCal while criss-crossing Europe.  Louie an ancient high school friend and swimmer though more inclined towards water polo player where he co-captained the Yellow Jackets water polo squad in 1982.

Louie was a positive influence: body-focused, curious and always good energy. I recall summers sneaking into weight rooms mid-day at the UC dorms to get an extra workout. He introduced me to climbing the bleachers at the Cal football stadium (we circled the grounds searching for weaknesses in the security fence). Minor aversions compared to what else going on in Berkeley.

Since, Louie has taken on 'causes', running for Marine County Superintendent in 2000 to oust a jerry mandered, special interest incumbent (he got 40% of the vote but still 2nd) and again in 2002; formed a non-profit to provide after-school academic support in the sciences across Marine county (300 pupils). Had a beautiful and precocious daughter.

Meanwhile Madeleine runs a 200m for the first time in a sunset time trial on the Wimbledon track. Without a starting block normal for the event, our gal blasts forward, hits the curve in full stride and brings home the race in powerful fashion, clocking a 27 seconds, half a second from qualifying for English Nationals. Not bad for the first-timer. She says: "Uh, it was fun. Quite fast race. I was surprised."

Orange Is The New Black

At our local The Plough

Along with having teenagers, we now have a set of rules that aims, well, to establish some rules.  For instance, Eitan's curfew is 12 midnight. He is allowed to use public transportation to get home (mainly bus). Madeleine (I remind she is 16 months younger) can stay out until midnight but she must have a ride, secured beforehand. Otherwise she must be home by 9:30 if by public transportation (this, dear reader, is the summer-rule given late evening sunsets).  

Of course Madeleine feels it is deeply unfair.

I signed Madeleine up for car-service Uber "for emergencies" which has been used 3 of the first five days in service.

Me: "Why don't you guys have a party here?"
Eitan, Madeleine:
Me: "Why not? Don't you want to have your friends over?"
Eitan, Madeleine
Me: "We could move the furniture from the living room. It could be big."
Madeleine: "No way, Dad."
Me: "What is it then, alcohol?"
Madeleine: "You would never have alcohol."
Me: "I'd not thought of it. What do the other parents do?"
Madeleine: "They're upstairs."
Me: "Well that's good to know."
Eitan: "Yeah, see?"
Me: "So no booze, no party ?"
Madeleine, Eitan
Me: "Sorry I asked."

Our First Lady

Melania was naked and illegal in 1995. Maybe married, too.

OK maybe Trump won't get elected.

Who could possibly have imagined that the Republicans would be able to hoist someone on a blinkered nation worse than Sarah Palin ?  Trump is finally going down in flames after he has insulted, well, everyone but most of all parents of fallen sons. Military families represent a large part of Trump's support base. His recent attacks have cut muscle.

Me: "What do you think of Trump?"
Madeleine: "Dunno. Pretty bad, I guess."
Me: "What would you think if I ran for president?"
Madeleine: "You would be a terrible ruler. You would tell everyone in the city that they're not allowed to drink and then you'd sit back and drink as much alcohol as you want."
Me: "Fair point."
Madeleine: "Are you still going to do it?"
Me: "Run for president?"
Madeleine: "Drink alcohol."

On Trump

A soothing photo of mountains

Why Trump will win.

Start with the two Americas : whites who go to the same universities, marry each other and work together and live in the same safe neighbourhoods. They're well off and mostly liberal. Workaholics. Striving with opportunity. Mainstream media is their mirror. Think Manhattan, San Francisco or Salt Lake City.
On the other side, there is a new lower class of white Americans with a high school or no degree who find themselves unmarried or divorced and unable to work due to illness or disability or simply unemployed.  Their zip codes are filled with chronic crime, decaying housing and infrastructure and services from clean water to policing (or aggressive policing). Think Flint, Cleveland, St Louis ... As a consequences of these trends, the traditional bonds of civil society have atrophied in lower class white America - less trust and less 'social capital'.
Trump speaks for this audience : The RNC captured the mood with Trump's speeches of an America in decline and unsafe. Contrast this to the Obama/ Clinton's masterpiece of self-congratulations during the DNC: everything in America is awesome ! America is great, diverse, dynamic and prosperous!
But it is not so for Main Street. The reality for lower class whites is, that since 2005, according to McKinsey, 81% of this population had flat or falling incomes. This group is in the grip of an epidemic of ill health and premature death and  chronic unemployment. It is why Trump comps to Hillary in the polls.
If Trump mobilises white voters - something much easier than minorities and the young - he will win. To see it, there were 129 million voters in the 2012 election, of which 93m (72%) were white. Romney won 59% of those votes to Obama's 39%, but still lost. If Romney had won 62% of the white vote he would have won. Can Trump do it? Right now he leads among white registered voters without a degree by a margin of 58% to 30% compared to Romney's 55% to 37%. Throw in Sanders' 13m supporters and the many young voters who won't show on election day. The white lower class, especially the older cohorts, will turn out for Trump in droves, just as their English counterparts turned out for Brexit.
We are on the path for a demagogue.

One More From Painted Wall

The canyon wall is twice the height of the Empire State Building.

Me: "Do your nuts go into your stomach?" [Dad's note: We stand over a guarded ledge]
Eitan: "No."
Me: "How about you Madeleine?"
Madeleine: "Dad!"
Me: "Doesn't the drop scare you?"
Madeleine: "I don't have nuts."
Me: "Fair enough. So what do you feel anyway?"
Madeleine: "I don't know. Scary I guess."
Eitan: "What would happen if you fell?"
Me: "Long way down. Wouldn't be pretty."
Madeleine: "Pretty dead."
Me: "Yep."

Wonderful Willa

This kid has it all

Allow me to introduce the blog to Willa, the child of Marcus and Adrienne, and the reason why we all care about the future. She is a jewel : chubby cheeked, well tempered and curious. Marcus is a wonderful father, singing while changing diapers, holding Willa in the pool and granting her enough space to drown (same as I did with Madeleine), always listening and caring. He is teaching Willa sign language to communicate her basic needs : pinching fingers means 'more', for instance.

We drive over the mountains to spend our last night in Denver, joining Whitney and Frank for dinner. Beecher and Bill no longer with us and their shadow cast long. Tess  is now a teenager and Thea on her coat tails.

Black Canyon Again

Thunderstorms are coming

Madeleine and I hike the Black Canyon and Painted Wall which I have had the joy of photographing on a few occasions most famously in 2011 at dawn. In the pitch dark. Scrambling on rocks next to the 2,000 foot drop to the Colorado River (almost twice the Empire State Building in height). Madeleine shudders and refuses to get within 10 feet of the ledge; and further - I won't let her.

Our lazy days go by in a blink. Highlights include family, the movies - Star Trek, who has the time these days? - the RNC clown show (The Giuliani scream. The Melania Trump plagiarism. The Mike Pence botched VP announcement. The Ted Cruz non-endorsement), Stan's blueberry grumble, seeing Marcus and Willa. Sleeping and napping. Feeling normal, letting my anxiety melt away (but returning full force for the airport home).

OK, we didn't make the Red Barn which is under new management anyway and Ted Nelson, the manager, has moved across the road to 'Nelson's' taking his steak eating, martini draining crowd with him. Reminds me of Sonoma. Good times and doing good.

Monument Park

Monument Canyon

We hike inside Monument Park. The temps are over 90 degrees. Madeleine and I join Chris, an endurance runner preparing for the Leadville 100, a 100 mile race from 10k to 14k feet (Chris: I used to be obsessed with drinking beer and my wife said I should find another obsession). He is 13 miles into a 22 mile run and asks : do you have any water ? (We don't) Chris and his wife moved from St Louis to Grand Junction in 2009 to start a new life and lifestyle. Says he, "Pretty obvious move." Indeed.

We are blessed to know this part of the world.

Madeleine: "Can we go to Walmart to get American candy for my friends?"

Me: "Sure."

In Walmart. Me: "You definitely want some 'Now and Laters', which you eat now and are still eating later. And a Charleston Chew. Oh, and Skittles. But skip the Three Muskateers which is, like, a Milky Way without the caramel or a Snickers without the caramel and peanuts. Bunk"

Madeleine: "I love Skittles."

Me: "I'd also get a bunch of those Hot Tamales. Nobody eats Milk Duds or Raisinettes unless you're at the movies so I'd stay away from them. Butterfingers are awesome and a nice balance for your chocolate and caramels. Score Bars def my favourite."

Madeleine: "Yep."

Me: "Any kid hates Almond Joys since its coconut. Seriously. M&Ms and Reeses are sooo dated. Mr Goodbar, Boston Baked Beans or Mike & Ikes and Crunch Bar are old school and set you apart. Bit 'O Honey is great when you are coming down for a sugar high."

Madeleine: "Gee, Dad, I didn't know we had so much to talk about."

The Mesa

Grand Mesa

The Grand Mesa is the largest flat-topped mountain in the world. It has an area of about 500 square miles and stretches ca. 40 miles east of Grand Junction between the Colorado River and the Gunnison River, its tributary to the south. The mesa rises 6,000 feet above the surrounding river valleys, reaching an elevation of 11k feet with a maximum elevation of 11.3 k at Crater Peak.

Me, at a Shell gas station in South Park, Colorado: "I think you charged me twice." [Dad's note: Dad prepays for gas then charged for the final amount].
Cashier: "You have not been charged twice Sir."
Me: "There are two signed slips. Shouldn't we rip one up or I receive a credit?"
Cashier: "I have told you, you have not been charged twice. You can't have the receipt back."
Me: "It is not clear to me."
Cashier: "I don't know how you do things in England, but this is how we do things here, in America."
Me: "What does that have to do with anything? I just want to make sure I'm not charged twice."
Cashier: "Sir please change your tone with me." [Dad's note: three police officers walk over."
Me: "I just want an explanation."
The store manager arrives, outside: "Sir I must apologies profusely. My father bought this gas station in 1974. I assure you I will take care of this problem."
Later, Sonnet: "Well that was interesting."
Madeleine: "Were you going to jail Dad?"
Me: "Know your rights kid."

BBC News: "A man has jumped 25 thousand feet into a safety net in the state of Southern California. It has been televised on live television in America. Of course."

Montrose

Daughter, father

We drive a familiar route, HW 50, from Monarch Pass to the Western Slope and Stan.  It is beautiful country. We stay in a suite at the Red Arrow, family style. 

Montrose's giant Walmart is a bloated tick on the edge of Montrose that has robbed the town of its old Main Street and killed many of the local shops whose proprietors will vote for Trump alongside Walmart employees being paid minimum wage. A number of state-legal weed shops are spotted on the edge of town with advertisements for "grow" by the highway. Guns are found next to coffee and grocery stores. Sadly we've just missed the Olathe corn festival which begins after we leave.

Stan is healthy and in fine spirits, keeping busy with the house and various related projects. He has a harem of women looking over him including Diane, who shares the house. Diane is a wonderful liberal who wears jeans and cowboy boots - she is off to the Montrose fair hoe-down for some serious country dancing. We also see Katie who is Stan's special friend; she is a classical pianist who started a concert series with her late husband. She invites us into her home for a pool swim and BBQ.

Sonnet and Marcus spend a day sorting through Silver's papers and personal effects, and discover letters dating from camp and as a school girl, photos from her college days, and teaching materials from Silver's favourite courses like 'Women's Autobiography", which I have discussed with former students including, once, a woman met on the Eurostar.

Salida Sunset

View from Moire and Turk's home

We rejoin Sonnet and Madeleine in Denver following a day with the Claydons, who are doing their own journey across America.

SUV loaded up with luggage and stories, we drive the Monarch pass crossing the Continental Divide with a stop in Salida to see Molly and Tim (otherwise in Paraguay teaching but moving to La Veta next year), Robin and Martine, Marcus and Willa, and Turk and Moire who recently bought a house in Salida to be close to the skiing. Smart move. Salida one of those up-and-coming communities with a bit of local history, surrounded by mountains and good clean living : it is also getting the spill-over from Boulder and similar towns where houses sell for a mil or more.

Turk, we may recall, is a paramedic with an unwavering eye that exudes confidence. He has founded an ambulance company in Denver. At the reception of Turk and Moire's wedding, one of the guests went into cardiac arrest. In a flash, Turk and five guys on him, saving his life. A pretty good story to be retold with family. Pretty good place to have a heart attack.

Pikes Peak

Pikes Peak overlook

Eitan and I top Pikes Peak, the highest summit of the southern Front Range of the Rocky Mountains. The ultra-prominent 14,115-foot 'fourteener' is located in Pike National Forest, 12 miles west by south of downtown Colorado Springs. The mountain is named after American explorer Zebulon Pike who was unable to reach the summit. The peak is higher than any point in the US east of its longitude.

I love this photo, which is how I see myself in my mind's eye. Were it always so.

Me: "You guys come a long way?" [15 or so bikers on Harley Davidsons, leathers, bald heads and American flag bandannas]

Biker 1: "From Iowa. Outside Des Moines."

Me: "Is it your crew? Do you guys always travel together?"

Biker 2: "Yeah, you could say we've known each other for a while."

Biker 1: "Just need to hit the road every now and again. Get out and see things, y'know ?"

Me: "I heard that."

Biker 1: "They killed another cop. Today, in Baton Rouge."

Me: "What is going on in this country ? Every day there is a shooting somewhere."

Biker 2: "It's no small thing when they're shooting police. Somebody's got to go away for that."

Me: "Why do you think it's happening?"

Biker 3: "Not my business. But if I had my way, no police would get shot."

Biker 2: "You got those problems in England?"

Me: "No. No guns either."

Biker 2: "That's your opinion."

Me:

Biker 3: "The guns aren't doing the shoot'n."

Crags Trail Hike

Crags Trail

Eitan and I hike the Crags Trail (#664A) which completes at Pikes Peak (14.1k alt), ascending from the Crags campsite at c. 9k. The dirt path is up and up, shocking us from the git-go. 

Along the first half, granite erodes horizontally into monumental slabs resembling stacks of gigantic red pancakes. The same rock forms vertically into collections of cusps. A few miles south of Divide CO, the formations are called “The Crags.” 

The hike passes a granite dome (another kind of erosive pattern in this neck of the woods), formed by glaciers millions of years ago. We pass through forests of enormous quaking aspen, and trace the track of the beginnings of Four Mile Creek. At the end we surmount a wind swept dome from which we gaze at the Rampart Range, Ute Pass, and the whole of the Catamount Creeks drainage. The friendly mountain flowers dot the trail and large clouds pass overhead.

From here, it is onwards to Devil's Playground (named for lighting jumping between boulders) followed by the final assent along boulders and skree, which is challenging and exhausting, forcing stops and patience. It compares easily to the final push of a marathon.  Eitan and I are relieved to reach the top. More so given the concessionary stand that accommodates the end of the Pikes Peak highway. The boy has a cheeseburger while I am content t gulp Gatorade.  

From the peak, it is downhill but not easy, taxing a different set of muscles entirely; we jog some of the way to speed up the time.

Total time: 7 hours.

Me, Sunday 8AM, gas station Route 25, El Paso County: "Does the girl come with the add?" [a counter advertisement presents an attractive women encouraging us to try Skoal chewing tobacco]

Cashier,: "Would cost a bit more, I imagine."

Me: "You from around here?" 

Cashier: "Yep. Grew up just outside town." 

Me: "Trump or Hillary?"

Cashier: "Neither."

Me: "You not going to vote?"

Cashier: "I served in the military 22 years. I served two tours in Iraq. Can't stand neither of them. All they do is lie. And haven't done noth'n for me."

Me: 

Cashier: "But I have a plan."

Me: 

Cashier: "Put a bullet in both their heads."

Me: "Check."

Colorado

Green Mountain Falls (c. 9.5k altitude)

Eitan and I split from Sonnet and Madeleine, who head for Buffalo to see Marcus and Adrienne. The boy and I fly to Denver to hike the Eastern Rockies (he's plugged into his phone and music; little talking during the trip). Our first two nights spent in Colorado Springs driving to trailheads for medium walks of 3-5 hours at altitudes from 6k to 9,000 feet. We do what dudes do: eat a lot of food, sleep and chillax. I mean 'hang out.' Eitan is a private person, has always been, and it is good to check in with this fine young man. His height may be 6 foot and his body strong, but he still grows inside and out.

The Orensteins

Our reunions once or twice a year joining California, New York and London. And to think, Gracie from Upper Arlington, Ohio (pop. 34k) and Moe from St Louis, Missouri - as Midwest as one gets. Our story written in the stars when my parents met in the Peace Corps and delivered to Malawi, Africa. No way were Katie and I staying at home and missing out on all that.

To New York

Bronxville commute

Katie enjoys success from the organisation she founded from an idea, her determination and an ever expanding community who fight for equal representation in mainstream editorial opinion. Since the Op-ed, women's editorial voice now exceeds 25%. Katie profiled in this month's Forbes magazine as one of the movers and shakers of her generation. Damn Straight.

We catch the train to Grand Central Station which is always a pleasure when doing so as a tourist.  I have a couple work meetings to attend to, as does Sonnet at The Met.

New York may have cleaned up from the 1970s and the peak of the murder market (1992) but it still is a hot mess which, to me, seems like bits and pieces flying about freestyle, fastened to Manhattan by magic. Unlike Tokyo, which is clean, organised and modern, New York feels like it could crumble tomorrow with those old brick buildings standing tall against the skyscrapers. But who cares about the ancient infrastructure ? It is about the food, sex, theatre, arts and film and the work. Always the work. A grind, for sure, but what else is there ?

Me: "How come I never surprise you reading a book? It's always the iPhone."
Eitan: "I read books."
Me: "Do you really think your college application will be stronger from the hundreds of hours you put into your mobile phone?"
Eitan: "What's your point?"
Me: "Why don't you apply yourself to something Big instead of wasting time?"
Eitan: "I do. Like running. And the play." [Dad's note: Eitan is 'Chino' in Hampton's West Side Story]
Gracie to me: "Give him a break. He's a teenager and he is doing a marvellous job. He will find his way."

B'ville

Moe chillaxes

Moe and Gracie join the family in Bronxville, something my mom would not miss following a recent operation (double mastectomy). It is a wonderful reunion where we see Katie, Marcia and Larry and Carla who joins from Akron, Ohio, with gossips on the upcoming RNC.  She says everyone in Ohio will vote Trump. Larry also supports Trump while Marcia is all for Hillary, are are the rest of us. We do not discuss politics.

I remark on the wrought iron railings which the crew repainted in 2009. It has held up well. 

Eitan and Madeleine go to the high school track to keep their running conditioned. Both are UK top 150 for their age group : Eitan in the 1500 and 800; Madeleine in the 800m. There are still a number of races to go before the season's August-end including the British champs. Plus it gets them out of the house.

Me: "Are you chillaxing?"

Madeleine:

Me: "So are you ?"

Madeleine: "Never use that word again."

New England

Tony and Susan

The dust has settled on our trip and time to catch up the blog. 

Whilst Eitan at soccer camp, we visit Tony and Susan in Boston's back-bay and Scott and Cindy in Tiverton, a charming Rhode Island town by the Narragansett Bay which their charming New England home looks over. Scott recently acquired a school house (also on the water) and is renovating 10,000 square feet into a live-work space where he anticipates poetry readings and topical lectures drawing from the Tiverton community of artists, writers and retired and summer businessmen and women. Today it is a work in progress but one can see the end result and it is gonna be great.

We return to Brown, pick up the boy, who informs his camp was a great success, and drive the I-95 South to Bronxville. I am flooded me memories of yesteryear when I frequented this route and the world yet a blank page.