July 26, 2014 by mountainmornings
They say you can’t go home again, not once you’ve left and established a separate life, an adult life. But today I tasted a real poppyseed strudel at the City Market, the kind my Slovac foster mother Nell used to make, and it brought me right back there, to Victory Gardens.
I tried making it once. I had to buy a new peppermill to grind the teeny poppy seeds, since there was nothing else I could think of in the 70s to do the trick. My attempt failed miserably and I just assumed you’d have to go to Czechoslovakia to find a poppyseed grinder. Julia Child lived around the corner in Cambridge, MA and I almost stopped her in the street to ask her how I might duplicate this luscious European pastry, but I guess I didn’t have the nerve. If only we had Twitter!
This week has brought back many memories. The Bride was just two years old when we started bringing her out to Martha’s Vineyard. We’d pack up the car and caravan with the dogs and our BFFs Lee and Al to a little, old, grey clapboard house at the wild end of the island, Gay Head. We’d dig for clams and bake bread. We’d ride our beach bikes past the dunes and watch fishermen docking with the day’s catch. We’d shower outside after an afternoon at Menemsha Pond, and pick ticks off the dogs in the evening. In short, it was always a delightful Spring.
Being with the Love Bug now reminds me of that toddler sense of wonder, the kind I experienced on the Vineyard with her mama. She looks for our neighbors’ horses, she sings to herself in the car, she bravely goes down a water slide twice! We run in the backyard to pick blackberries. When she takes a bite of a ripe peach, I see that same joy. Like a picture I have of the bride sitting at our Gay Head table with lobster, clams and butter all over her face and hair.
Sandy sheets and ballon animals from the City Market dance on my laundry line of time.
The Bride waiting for the ferry
And sometimes I feel like I have gone home again.
The Bug with a blackberry stained mouth
Posted in Books, Journaling, Wedding, Country | Tagged Charlottesville City Market, City Market, Grandparenting, Julia Child, Martha's Vineyard, Memoir, Travel | 2 Comments »
July 24, 2014 by mountainmornings
I remember when we moved back to NJ. The kids were little when we attended a new parents night. The elementary school principal spoke about all the wonderful things her school had to offer; while we parents were encouraged to think about outcomes. What did we hope their school would help instill in its students? She made a list on a blackboard; it was a long list. Parents were calling out things to put on the list – creativity, cooperation, academic achievement. This was a school, mind you, where awards for Being Quiet were displayed proudly on one wall. I called out, “What about compassion?”
Silence.
The Love Bug and the Bride are visiting us this week, and I just happened to read an article about teaching kindness.
It’s amazing the subjects that deserve research, how does one raise a successful child? How to raise a happy child! Finally it’s occurred to someone that children need to be taught NOT to always think of themselves first. I’ve noticed with the Bug, who will turn 2 next month, that altruism is there just waiting to be nourished. She noticed my wrapped hand and kissed it immediately. She shares her food willingly. She pets Ms Bean gently.
But I always thought you teach kindness by modeling it yourself. It’s not something you need a worksheet for, it doesn’t need to be drilled into your child. Today I offered the Bride a small gift of time to work out at our sports club. I played with the Bug, while Mama and baby-to-be raised their heart rates a bit. Since it was raining when we arrived, we didn’t swim, but we joined in with a group of children who were at day care and tennis camp. Suddenly a toddler ran into a wall, cutting his eyebrow.
The Bride arrived just in the nick of time, she got to work examining the boy, cleaning his superficial laceration and reassuring his mama that it didn’t need sutures. The Bug saw some of this medical operation, and I’m sure she registered this in her brain. We are the kind of people who help people.
Random acts of kindness might sound good in a curriculum, but I think it’s something we learn before Kindergarten, at our parents knees. Maybe if more of us practiced this concept, we’d be less inclined to wage war, or shoot down planes for instance. Maybe it’s as simple as that?
Bug rock climber
Posted in Books, Journaling, Wedding, Country | Tagged compassion, health, kindergarten school, kindness, Parenting, Pre-school, sports, The elementary school principal, toddlers | 2 Comments »
July 20, 2014 by mountainmornings
They came from near and far. My brother from St. Louis, friends and family from New York and Connecticut, the Big Chill entourage, octogenarian snow birds and a surrogate daughter from Florida.
It was the last of many luncheons this year. Everyone wanted to fete my MIL Ada for turning 90, and they wanted to tell her exactly how she had influenced their own lives.
She was a safe haven in the 60s for “hippies” running from their conservative families or the law, or both.
She was a mentor for emancipated women of the Northeast, from Valley of the Dolls to a Fear of Flying and Our Bodies Ourselves.
She was a matchmaker in the pure Yiddish tradition.
She is an artist and loyal friend. A master of reinvention.
She is a wife and mother, a grandmother and now a great grandmother.
She attracts people and fish! And who knew she couldn’t dance?
Because I always thought she could do anything. That anything is possible. Because that’s what she gave to me’, infinite possibilities. Thank you Ada Flora, for being beautiful you – strong and soft at the same time. Brilliant and funny, and always willing to listen. Thanks for letting me hitch a ride on your star.
Posted in Books, Journaling, Wedding, Country | 2 Comments »
July 15, 2014 by mountainmornings
Yesterday was Bastille Day, so happy holiday to our French friends belatedly. I love following the Instagram pictures of the French student we hosted one summer, who is now a lawyer and mother of two young boys in Paris. Her shots are miniature art works: a still life of different flowers in bud vases; a building in the south with violet shutters; the backs of her boys in shorts entering a garden with dappled light; or the colorful play of fresh vegetables on her kitchen table “Retour de marche.”
Whenever I see Stephanie’s children, I think of Madeline.
Madeline at the Paris Flower Market 1955
She is turning 75 this year and is currently on exhibit at The New York Historical Society. “The Art of Ludwig Bemelman” will be shown until November 19 and then travel to Amherst, MA. “Bemelmans’ grandson, John Bemelmans Marciano, has continued his grandfather’s work with three more books of Madeline’s adventures. He says that Madeline is not French, but a real New Yorker.” http://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-28233820
Ludwig Bemelman immigrated to the USA in 1914 from Austria-Hungary. Because his mother was German, he was not allowed to go overseas in WWI, though he did serve in the Army. He was assigned to a mental hospital in upstate NY where he nearly suffered a mental breakdown.
He saved himself by creating what he called “islands of security”: “I have started to think in pictures and make myself several scenes to which I can escape instantly when the danger appears,” he wrote in a memoir, “instant happy pictures that are completely mine, familiar, warm, and protective.”
Like Bemelman, I will often see my prose in pictures first. He considered himself more of an artist and less of a writer, and like many artists he had to support himself over the years by working in the real world, and in his case it was the hotel industry. His first Madeline book was published at the cusp of WWII.
I find it fascinating that his red headed girl in the yellow hat was always the one in 13 girls who did not fit into her convent school life – she had a personality and some spunk. It’s as if he took a New York schoolgirl and dropped her into Paris to deal with an ancient regime, because God knows nobody likes what happened to France during the war. Whenever Madeline left her house covered in vines, in two straight lines of girls, we always knew she was in for an adventure. And we always knew she would step out of line. I must remember to get the first book for my Love Bug to read!
Here is a self portrait of my beautiful sister Kay, a gorgeous artist who also worked in the health industry, and sent her daughter to the Convent of the Sacred Heart on East 91st Street and Fifth Avenue. The school was founded by French speaking nuns in 1881. Thank you Kay for putting me up, and putting up with me, during Sue’s shiva. Your apartment was my island of security in NYC.
My Sister Kay
I believe we red headed girls think alike.
Posted in Books, Journaling, Wedding, Country | Tagged Art, Catholic School, Children's Books, John Bemelmans Marciano, Ludwig Bemelman, Madeline, mental-health, New York Historical Society, Paris, shiva, writing | 2 Comments »
July 12, 2014 by mountainmornings
What goes around…
Underneath my 1966 high school yearbook picture is the caption, “Dover today, Broadway tomorrow.” It was good to have a friend on the yearbook staff, thank you Bess, but in my defense I did try out for every single play in high school. From Freshman year when I was a CanCan girl dancer in Oklahoma, to Senior year playing Adelaide to Bob’s Nathan Detroit in Guys and Dolls, (Achoo) you just can’t make this stuff up. And whatever part of the right side of our brain that’s responsible for creativity, well that part was squared when the Rocker was born.
He would practice the violin while our Corgi howled right next to him. He spent hours filming stop-action cartoons in our garage. Later on, in middle school in the mid 90s, he would design websites for his friends. He started his first band with his buddy Alex around the same time. I was deep into filming dance aerobics workouts for our local cable channel, while Bob played old 60s music extremely loud in the background of the Rocker’s early life. In fact, Bob said the only way he could calm him down as an infant was to blast Led Zeppelin in the car.
So I am happy to announce that the Rocker is going back out on tour this week. He’ll be playing guitar with Nicole Atkin’s band http://nicoleatkins.com/home/ and his old friend Christopher will be on drums. They will share the stage with the Avett Brothers again, and open for Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. My son will visit his sister in Nashville on the 16th when they play TN Music City Roots – they will also be filming for PBS to benefit the Nature Conservancy. http://musiccityroots.com/events/
He’ll be onstage for his birthday this summer, so chances are he’ll have a big crowd singing “Happy Birthday.” All the while working on The Parlor Mob’s reunion shows this Fall and scoring music for film on the road. http://www.davidjamesrosen.com Unfortunately, he’s going to miss his Grandma Ada’s second 90th birthday bash in NJ (the first was in Mexico), and I can’t tell you how many people want to sing and dance at her party!
Which makes me think about the Flapper, sneaking out of her bedroom window in Scranton, PA to dance all night to the Tommy Dorsey band. Later in the 20s, Tommy joined his brother Jimmy in a band they called the Scranton Sirens. Later still, as a dowager on Lake Minnetonka, my brother Mike had Cab Calloway play piano for our Mother. The rest of that jazz is history
…it comes around.
The Rocker was named after Sue’s father, and got off a plane from Mexico with Ms Cait to attend her funeral. I like to think he was her favorite cousin. 
Posted in Books, Journaling, Wedding, Country | Tagged Art, Avett Brothers, creativity, dance, dance aerobics, Guys and Dolls, Jazz Age, middle school, Music, music. rock and roll, Musical Comedy, Nick Cave And The Bad Seeds, Nicole Atkin, nicole atkins, Parlor Mob, Rock and Roll, The Rocker | 1 Comment »
July 10, 2014 by mountainmornings
It’s not everyday that my whole family gets to walk around NYC, on a holiday weekend, when anyone with a car has long since left this piece of the Apple. The Bride thought the city looked beautiful in its abandoned state: an older woman was slowly pushing her small dog in a fancy pram; decorated, horse-drawn carriages were lined up in front of the Plaza waiting for tourists who never came; and out on Sue’s upper-East side terrace, where she had planted 35 tomatoes in painters’ tubs, a nest of baby birds was singing to us. It’s one of those strange, paradoxical moments in time. In the midst of grief, sitting shiva in the middle of this concrete canyon, we realize there is still beauty.
And that’s probably what we are meant to do, reflect on my cousin’s life through our own lens. Someone said she wasn’t a political person, but I knew better. Because around Ada’s kitchen table we let our political hair down, and Sue was always in the middle of the fray, leading the conversation. Maybe with her NYC realtor/colleagues she didn’t voice her opinions, but her family and close friends knew she had the heart of a liberal. Which is why my conversation with the cabby of my taxi on the way to Penn Station was apropos.
He was from Africa. He spoke French “officially.” He got his BA from Baruch College in the Flatiron District and was going to get his masters soon. Just as soon as he gets his green card…
And to wake up at home this morning and hear all about President Obama’s meeting with Gov Perry in TX and speculation about Obama’s decision not to have a “photo-op” holding refugee children at the border yesterday made me feel sick. Particularly when I saw Perry quickly swivel his chair out of sight as the CNN camera started rolling at that meeting with the POTUS. God forbid he should be seen like Gov Chris Christie – embracing our President. Of course Perry would like a picture of Obama holding children he is “…about to deport” as one commentator said.
Because to a politician, it’s appearances that count. And the optics of immigration isn’t very pretty.
My cabby told me there is a French saying about things you may want in life. Bit by bit, the bird builds her nest.
Father and Daughter in NYC
Posted in Books, Journaling, Wedding, Country | Tagged Birds, French, grief, Immigration, Jewish family, Politics, President Obama, Travel | 3 Comments »
July 8, 2014 by mountainmornings
At cousin Sue’s funeral, the rabbi asked us to take a moment and quietly think of her. I bowed my head and closed my eyes, and I remembered a car ride.
Sue was Ada’s niece, which means she was her friend, her traveling companion, her touchstone, her daughter. It’s that way in Jewish families.
I first met Sue when I was a teenager. Like my older sister, she was the sophisticated single girl living the good life in NYC. Sue started off as a teacher, but she became a real estate mogul. Selling million dollar apartments that I could only dream about and then somewhere along the way, we became family.
She was wise and funny without that biting sense of sarcasm. She kept her friends close throughout the years and shared her business sense with her colleagues and family. Sue was a private person, who once asked me why I would write about my life and later couldn’t wait to read my blog.
But every year together for 35 years, she shared her Seder secrets with me.
We cooked or should I say we prepared for the holiday days in advance. Way in advance. She’d schlep tables and silver from Manhattan. She would always request my butternut squash casserole. She would taste test my harosis. Most things needed more salt but her gravlax was earth shattering.
I thought about my cousin Sue and the time we were driving to the Salvation Army together. We needed more water glasses for the Seder – Ada was seating over 40 people that year. We had a great talk in the car and I don’t even remember what it was about. We had never spent any time alone together we’d always been in the middle of a family circus; Seder dinner, happening at the beach, wedding, or funeral.
I wish we had more time Sue.
Posted in Books, Journaling, Wedding, Country | 2 Comments »
July 5, 2014 by mountainmornings
Yesterday we got up early to wish our country a happy birthday. Like we’ve done so many times before, we headed up the mountain to Mr Jefferson’s home for the 52nd Naturalization Ceremony at Monticello. http://www.timesdispatch.com/news/state-regional/nearly-citizens-naturalized-at-monticello/article_33d59e48-03f4-11e4-af9a-0017a43b2370.html
Thousands always gather to watch our newest citizens swear an oath of allegiance to these United States; red and blue, right and left unite in our collective pride for once. And as Iraq was dissolving into tribal warfare, trying desperately to sustain its very early gestational stage of freedom, I thought about the bigger picture. How we didn’t achieve true independence in 1776, well not ALL of us did, 
We had to fight our own bloody Civil War and then survive the tumultuous 60s, and we are still voting one state at a time for marriage equality in 2014.
And while the keynote speaker, David Rubenstein, co-founder and CEO of the Carlyle Group, read an amusing email he received from TJ himself, it was his list of famous immigrants that caught my attention; Albert Einstein, YoYoMa, Kissinger, Madeline Albright, etc and I couldn’t help but think about the buses of women and children that have faced angry mobs in California, and the refugee camps we’ve set up along border states. 
Still, what other country our size manages to allow and contain so much dissent, along with a free press? How will history tell this American immigration story? It turns out Mr Rubenstein graduated the same year as Bob from Duke University. I asked Bob if he thought he’d been a frat boy in 1970. The Yearbook that year was divided in two, one for the Greeks and one for the Geeks (Hippies).
And as I stood there with my little flag and my hand in its splint, I thought about the Supreme’s latest Hobby Lobby ruling. In 1967 when I was in college, doctors were not allowed to write prescriptions for that newfangled birth control pill if you were unmarried. And today, your boss can determine your reproductive destiny because SCOTUS has ruled in favor of corporations over women. And it has once again softened the line between church and state, and we know what Mr Jefferson would say about that! 
http://classroom.monticello.org/teachers/resources/profile/6/Jefferson-and-the-Declaration-of-Independence/ ps why do I always look like some botched plastic surgery victim?
Posted in Books, Journaling, Wedding, Country | Tagged Carlyle Group, David Rubenstein, Fourth of July, history, Human Rights, Immigration, Monticello, Mr Jefferson, naturalization ceremony, Thomas Jefferson, Travel, women's history, Women's Rights | 2 Comments »
July 3, 2014 by mountainmornings
This morning Ms Bean started barking her crazy bark at the kitchen door. I looked and not seeing any deer, which usually has her starting off with a low rumble before she hits the crazy bark mode, I opened the door. She jumped, pranced out onto the deck craning her head up, and I looked up to see a Great Blue Heron swing down and away from the roof into the valley. Oh Bean, let’s not go chasing herons. Hawks are OK since they might decide to pick you up for a snack, but herons mean you no harm.
Afterwards, I recalled a snippet of last night’s dream. I dreamed about Buddha, and the Flapper. We were in a big, old antebellum house and Buddha didn’t want to go out the door. It was a special door on the side with muddy bootprints. My beautiful, white Samoyed-mix wasn’t comfortable walking on the wood floors towards the end. The Flapper was watching from the grand circular staircase. Maybe I remembered the dream because my children’s story has Buddha talking to a Great Blue Heron in a tree.
But the majestic, historic house I know well, it was Walter Place in Holly Springs, MS. My late brother Michael bought this house for his beautiful bride Jorja after they left the frozen tundra of Minnesota. She was raised here and her large family still lived among the hanging, humid wisteria vines in this delta dreamworld. I’ve been dressed in a hoop skirt to man the upstairs battle stations during their annual Pilgrimage. Walter Place is the jewel in the crown of this historic house tour. http://misspreservation.com/2012/06/19/101-places-walter-place-in-holly-springs/
In 1859…”Harvey Washington Walter “challenged [architect Spires Boling] to create something grander than the classic Greek Revival house with tall white columns” Boling’s response was the Gothic towers “topped with castellated battlements.”
Walter Place is about to go up for auction, which is most likely why I’m dreaming about it. All the gorgeous antiques that Jorja assembled over the years to make her home a period masterpiece are now in the hands of Stevens Auctions for probably one of the biggest and best American antiquities sales in a very long time.
I remember looking out over the lawn to see tents sprawling as far as the eye can see of Civil War re-enactors, like Mrs Grant saw in real time. I remember the desk that the railroad tycoon Walter’s daughter used sitting under the staircase. She had to practice medicine in China since no one would accept a woman doctor. I remember my niece Lucia’s glorious wedding in the lush garden, with magnolia flowers from the estate on every table. I remember the peacock I gave my brother for his birthday flying free up into a tree when the groundsman tried to capture him. Like the heron did this morning.
I know you can watch the auction online July 11 and 12, but I don’t know if they will be accepting phone bids. You could probably call if you are interested, this is a business that must have a person on the other end of the line don’t you think? http://www.stevensauction.com/Calender.html And Jorja, I wish you love and light in this next chapter of your life.
Three Generations of Delta Beauty
Posted in Books, Journaling, Wedding, Country | Tagged antiques, Buddha, Civil War, great blue heron, Harvey Washington Walter, Holly Springs, Memoir, Travel, Walter Place | 1 Comment »
July 1, 2014 by mountainmornings
Here we go. A flip was switched somewhere and summer has arrived – triple H weather, hazy, hot and humid. Today and tomorrow are supposed to be scorchers, 90+ with crazy late afternoon thunderstorms. But July first also means the new interns and residents start at the hospital, and that means moving vans and cleaning crews.
When we moved South, we bought a hundred year old house in town. It was supposed to be our little nest egg, a small investment property, something to rent out to medical students, our own personal social experiment. But we bought at the height of the market, and the more we stripped away the years and “captured” space underground to make the basement rental beautiful, the more we realized this would be a non-profit adventure.
Our renovation to this grand little brick foursquare, three bedroom house proceeded with the vague thought that we may sometime in the future, when we can no longer drive, like to live in town and be able to walk everywhere. Presuming we could still walk!
My guilty TV pleasure is watching HGTV. I love International House Hunters, the Property Brothers, and Flea Market Flip. But flipping tenants every three to four years is taking its toll. Most of the time I’ve lucked out, because word of mouth has meant that the house stayed in the general med school family. These students are rarely home, and when they are, they sleep. For a new landlord, this was a win win.
But as of today, the tenants are not med students, although one is a PhD student. They like to garden and take good care of the house. I feel bad for the new guy moving in today, on presumably one of the hottest days of the summer. And it was bittersweet saying goodbye to the emergency resident who packed up a van and left for Sloan Kettering. He got off a plane from Germany with two suitcases three years ago and is off to a fellowship in the Big Apple. That’s the best part of this whole thing, meeting new people.
We’ve even had two weddings that were linked to that brick house!
So maybe I could pitch a new show to HGTV called “Investment in Medicine?” About buying an investment property to rent to med students who only call you when they think the smoke alarm won’t go off and it turns out to be an abandoned beeper in the back of a closet. A Grey’s Anatomy meets House Hunters. I’ve got more stories, but I think I’ll keep them close to the hip.
I’ve turned over the key, and left a bottle of wine in the fridge. Here’s to you historic old house, we’ve had a good run. I hope your newest tenant loves you as much as I do. and I hope the AC holds out.
Bride and Groom near the brick house
Posted in Books, Journaling, Wedding, Country | Tagged HGTV, investment property, investments, medical school, money, non-profit, rental property, students | 2 Comments »
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MountainMornings 