Greetings From The Marais

Are we there yet ?

Sonnet in the Midwest to visit a museum in Kansas City then St Louis, MO, for Kevin's wedding. Kevin an ancient friend from San Francisco. Then it is Montrose to see Marcus and Stan, who has accepted an offer on his house.  

The home leaves good memories, like parking Eitan's baby crib in the guest room closet so he would sleep. Or the time I was up at 5AM, jet legged, to go running and bumped into Silver wearing a full-body gas mask. We waved at each other (Silver allergic to dust, and was dusting the plans). The dinner table conversations and the full moon rising above the Rockies.

Whilst Sonnet travels,  I take Madeleine and Laurie to Paris 4e in the heart of the Marais.  The girls are a joy, giggling and serious - interested in shopping and anything vintage - we split our time between the back streets, felafels, stores and museums. Yesterday it was Picasso and streak frites. Today it is glorious sunshine.

Eitan (who is with Aggie) shrugs it all off, going to a party Friday and home to revise Saturday night. Back in the day, it would have meant a Love Boat and Fantasy Island double-header.

Bieber

Madeleine stops by our room every evening for Sonnet to blow dry her hair.

Sonnet: "No way are you having a party at our house."
Madeleine: "What ?!"
Sonnet: "After we re-do the interior this Autumn, I am not letting a bunch of teenage monsters trash the place."
Madeleine: "That is so unfair."
Me to Madeleine: "Talk to me on this one."
Sonnet: "Hmmm."
Me: "At Eitan's party, I was going to play some tunes." (Dad's note: I can control the living room speakers from my iPhone)
Madeleine:
Me: "Justin Bieber."
Madeleine: "Oh. My. God."
Me: "Your Mom stopped me from doing it."
Madeleine: "When I have a party, you are not allowed. Downstairs. Ever."

Post Party

Eitan and Fred

Does one laugh or cry ?  The Tories float the idea of British companies being forced to register their foreign workers while Teresa May pushes for Article 50 in March 2017 triggering a hard countdown to the Brexit. The markets freak and Sterling drops to a 31 year low at 1.18 against the dollar before rebounding to 1.23. When we arrived, it was over 2. My Euro friends are disgruntled.

As if Europe is going to enter friendly agreements : we block European labour flows, Europe blocks our easy access to the largest trading block in the world. We lose the the best talented people and free trade. 

Talk about an own goal. 

I just did a Google search for 'Trump' and 'pussy'. 

Here is what he said and certainly would have denied if not on tape:

“I moved on her like a bitch, but I couldn’t get there. And she was married.”

“I did try and fuck her. She was married.”

“Just kiss. I don’t even wait. And when you’re a star, they let you do it. You can do anything.”

“Grab them by the pussy. You can do anything."

Idiots and racists will still vote for Trump. 

Saturday Night Lights

Pre-party

Eitan throws a party at 45 inviting 60 or so friends.  We empty the house and sweep the backyard; Eitan fine-tunes his play list and Sonnet prepares food and snacks. And beer - what party would last without the booze ? True then and true now. So we set aside our concerns and buy six cases of Amstel and Budweiser, which is gone within one hour of the start.

The boys arrive mostly first, trickling in, respectful while avoiding eye contact with me, the adult supervision. I check each name from a list. The girls arrive in groups, on display like Christmas ornaments. Their water bottles contain vodka and gin, which I mostly let ride. 

It is a real pleasure to see how excited the kids are to see each other, hugging and shouting over the drum.

The living room speakers (inherited with the house) are professional and make the house shake. I am rather proud of it.

Madeleine and her friends slink around the dark edges of the action.

Sonnet and I banished to the upstairs. We eavesdrop and I drop downstairs to make sure everything remains under control and nothing broken nor kids puking. We order late night pizza for the stragglers and clean up the mess.

Oxford or Bust

For posterity, here is the gang reunited. Zubulin, third from left, got all A* on his GCSE exams this year and will likely study maths at Cambridge.  Ava (2nd from right) now plays for Arsenal FB and represents England.  Zoe (missing) accepted to Oxford and began in September. Rusty, meanwhile, got his bone.

Trump is a clown and not worth discussing. Theresa May, who is not a clown, sent Sterling into a free fall as the financial markets reacted to her words on a strong brexit. This stupid country may deliver what 51% of the British population seem to want - immigration control - while killing foreign investment and access to the European markets. Brussels will do all it can to stick it to this country and prevent other countries from splitting the union; until now, The City has been impregnable. Paris and Zurich are sharpening their knives. Without thriving London, say goodbye to the golden eggs.

Those Eigenstrains

Math genius in repose

We go for our autumnal walk in Oxford with the Three Zees plus Nita and Alain who is occupied with a paper titled: "Universal Eigenstrains and Deformations in Compressible Isotropic Solids." All I can say is: what the fuck is that all about ? 

To prepare the research, Alain teamed up with a genius Iranian named Arash Yavari who received his applied maths PhD at CalTech and states, on his website, that his interest is "developing systematic theories of discrete mechanics for crystalline solids with defects." I always went with distance running or travelling. 

Sadly dudes like Arash will surely be discouraged from coming to Britain following Brexit.

Eric is the only friend I can think of who might know about an Eigenstrain. Or Ben. Anyways, for all those interested, here is a brief on Alain's thesis : 

"Finite eigenstrains in a nonlinear solid can be modelled by a Riemannian material manifold with a metric that explicity depends on the eigenstrains. We show that covariantly homogeneous deformations - deformations with covariantley constant deformations gradients - are the only universal deformations." 

And so on an so forth

Sweet 16

Eitan turns 16. This precious young soul has grown before our very eyes into the fine young man he has become. Sonnet and I could not be more proud of him.

Eitan's academic year brings forward the GCSEs, those dreaded exams that will determine the boy's future. Not to be taken lightly. 

In the British school system, a student's extracurriculars, school grades, teacher recommendations and personal essays don't count for college credit - only the exams, test-taker be damned if s/he has a cold or a bad day. US colleges extrapolate a GPA from the GCSEs so the results count in America, too. 

We have known about the GCSEs since, well, Eitan's birth since it is something anxiously discussed amongst parents and ex-pats from Day 1. The general consensus is that it is a pretty crummy thing to put a poor kid through. 

Until now, the exam has been a safe distance in the future, over some far away hill, that protected us from Eitan's inevitable departure from home. For surely once the test is done he is gone.

Me: "Sweet 16 and never been kissed."

Eitan: "What do you mean?"

Me: "It's an expression. Sweet 16 and never been kissed. So have you?"

Eitan: "What?"

Me: "Been kissed."

Eitan: "Why do you always have to do that?"

The Merchant

Eitan at Tooting Bec

Friday night in London finds us gathered at The Globe for The Merchant of Venice, which Eitan studied last year and now reminds me of the story beforehand and whispers character names in my ear. Shylock is treated horribly and should have had his pound of flesh. Sonnet and Madeleine visit The Tate Modern before the play to see the Georgia O'Keefe exhibition. 

Southbank is abuzz - every concrete nook filled with skateboarders, walkers, drinkers, revellers; only the black river separates the lights.

It has been a busy month , or two even, so let's see : the kids concluded their summer athletics season with Eitan clocking a 4:16 in the 1500 (pb of 9 seconds) and Madeleine a 2:26 in the 800 - times good enough for the UK top 150. Adding an exclamation mark : Madeleine finishes second in yesterday's Wandsworth champs and will represent the borough in the London Youth Games Later this year.

Grace continues her chemotherapy and is in good spirits always; we check in with each other every day.

The G

The g waters the front yard

Last couple weeks have been admittedly chill.  I've had a few business trips taking me to Oslo, Copenhagen, Amsterdam and Zurich, travelling through the Swiss Alps to get to Zug.  The kids have taken the loong summer break to be, well, kids: Eitan sleeps until noon. Both go out in the evening with friends or parties. Neither particularly interested in my instructions to study. 

Madeleine runs a 2:29 800m today at Euell in Surrey. She's disappointed as it's not a personal best and the end of the season. Next is cross country and Autumn nearly hear.

Madeleine: "Yo g, what's up?"
Me: "From now on you are 'The g.' "
Madeleine:
Me: "The g is in the room."
Madeleine:
Me: "The g is now going down the stairs."
Madeleine:
Me: "The g is in the kitchen looking for some food."
Madeleine: "I get it Dad OK ?"
Me: "The g tells Dad, 'she gets it, OK?'"
Madeleine: "You are so weird."
Me: "No more so than anyone else."
Madeleine: "Whatever you say g."

Man's Best Friend

Post run, Richmond Park. Saturday afternoon

Me: "How are we doing as parents?"
Madeleine: "You were doing pretty good but now you're all about discipline and stuff."
Me: "Are you kidding? You guys have so much freedom."
Madeleine: "Like a 9:30 curfew?"
Me: "That's for public transportation. And BTW 9:30 is summer hours and will be earlier in winter."
Madeleine: "See? "
Me: "When was the last time you put forward your case for a different curfew anyway?"
Madeleine: "In the US. In Colorado."
Me: "OK, but I wasn't convinced."
Madeleine: "You *were doing pretty well as I said."

Madeleine texts me from her bedroom: "Can I get sushi delivered?"
Me (texting back): "No. Make yourself some pasta."
Two hours later. Me: "You're making pasta?"
Madeleine: "Yeah."
Me: "You must be pretty hungry."
Madeleine: "Do I just put it in boiling water?"

Nordic Affair

Oslo Philharmonic

A beautiful late summer evening in Oslo. The symphony outside the statehouse a pleasant surprise.

A black BBC broadcaster reports on Trump's announcement to an all white audience that he will have 95% of the black vote in the 2020 elections. Like a 10 year old in the Principal's office, she tries not to laugh.

Ali, Pelé and now Bolt.

Madeleine: "I need new shoes."
Me: "Shall we go shopping then ?"
Madeleine: "I've been wearing my Vans for a year now."
Me: "You've been seeing live bands for a year now?"
Madeleine: "Huh?"
Me: "I didn't hear what you said."
Madeleine: "Vans, Dad."
Me: "So what are we doing this afternoon?"
Madeleine: "Uh, I'm seeing my friends."
Me: "Cool. Why don't I send a flash bomb and we can all hang in Wimbledon."
Madeleine: "Those words hurt me."
Me: "What, can't I join you?"
Madeleine: "Obviously No."
Me: "So you're saying your prejudice. Against old people."
Madeleine: "Yes. I mean no. Only you."
Me: "Your own Dad. You cut me to my bone."
Madeleine: "Were you like this when you were my age?"

Madeleine: "Why don't you move back to the US?"
Me: "Maybe we will one day."
Madeleine: "You could live with Gracie and Moe."
Me: "But then Moe would tell me to do my homework."
Madeleine gives me a knowing smirk.

Summer Vines

Self Portrait XXXXIX

Mid August yet no tomatoes. Still, I am happy to have my friendly vines and await their red fruit in September.

Gracie began chemotherapy last week Thursday and is in positive good spirits. The chemo is good news as the nodes in her lungs proved non-cancerous. The treatments, which will continue through November, to ensure this remains the case.

Rusty Olympics

Rusty cheers for Mo Farah

The dog is fired up by the Olympics.

In truth, I've never seen an animal so happy to have a bone.

Little Britain is in 2nd place for medals after the US and before China. Go figure. The UK is rocking the gymnastics, velodrome and swimming and diving. Then there is Mo Fara, Britain's very own Michael Phelps. Just about almost.

My mornings have been up early to drive to Hampton to run in Bushy Park followed by a swim in the outdoor 33m pool where I can wear flippers.  The other lap swimmers hate it, as I hate them for being in the wrong lane, but we manage to co-exist.

North Devon

Shaka dude

We spend the weekend in North Devon for some surfing and both kids enjoy the beach (picture tattoos, sunburn, babies crying and parents smoking).

The North Devon Coast Area is known for its outstanding natural beauty and Woolacombe Beach chosen as"Britain's Best Beach in 2015  and 13th best in the world by TripAdvisor which says a lot about them. Yes, it's sandy and the water salty but it is not a place I would return to, dear reader. There is no California sunset. I will come back for Madeleine, not doubt. She is committed to the waves.

The beachside chippy, however, totally legit - a line forms along the block from 11AM. Inside, the Brits order fish and chips or sausage and chips or just chips. The order, doused in salt and vinegar, arrives in a card-board box, complete with small wood fork.

Server: "Order please?"
Lady: "I'll be hav'n those chips. And the cod please."
Server: "Order please?"
Lady 2: "Two chips. Make it three chips and the fish."
Server: "Order please."
Man 1: "Chips and a sausage."
Server: ""Order please."
Man 2: "Oy matey, I'll get a double portion of them chips."
Server: "Order please."
Man 3: "Chips and the beef burger."
Server: "Oder please."
Lady 3: "Hmmm. Yes, I'll have the chips and the vinegar, if you don't mind."
Server: "Order please."
Me: "Anyone ever not order chips?"
Server:
Me: "I'll have the chips."

Meanwhile At The Track

Wimbledon Hercules

Eitan and Madeleine have a tough workout including 2x 3 minutes hard followed by some 400s and 200s. Funny it doesn't seem like a big deal, 3 minutes, until you're in agony at 1 minute and not even at the half way mark. These kids are tough, though, and power through.

I arrive at the track at 7PM - kids taxi service - treated to a perfect temperature and slow sunset over Wimbledon fields.

Trump suggests that gun owners assassinate Hillary Clinton and her selection of Supreme Court judges. Paul Ryan and those turds in what was the Republican party continue to back Trump.

Eitan: "Madeleine tried to sell me a shirt."
Me: "She's desperate for money. I've got her and Lucas cleaning the windows."
Eitan: "Where is she now?"
Sonnet: "They're circling the neighbourhood trying to sell baked goods."
Me: "Highly motivated. I like it."

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."