It's My Life ...& Welcome To It

Sammy, Ed and Me ... Making Pies

2011-10-27T19:27:00.004-04:00

Sandra Steingraber beautifully shares why the fight against fracking is so important

2011-09-17T13:44:00.018-04:00

Sep 17, 2011

My friend sent this to me and I found it so compelling that I wanted to share it with friends and family. Please pass it on.

FYI - fracking, that is referred to in this article, is a Halliburton-invented technique for extracting natural gas buried deep in the earth in layers of shale. It is extracted by pumping huge amounts of water and sand, laced with a cocktail of toxic chemicals, to fracture (thus, fracking) the shale and free the gas.

No doubt you've noticed that we are being bombarded with television commercials populated with earnest, friendly and intelligent faces telling us how safe and clean natural gas is and why we need to extract it from the bowels of the earth. After you read Sandra Steingraber's piece below you will understand just why the oil and gas companies are spending vast amounts of advertising money to convince us that their unrestricted search for gas (and profits) is not a threat to the safety of our drinking water and the stability of our earth. Regardless of their declarations, fracking is, indeed, a very serious threat to our health and safety and no amount of slick ads can change that elemental fact.

Protest is needed on an equally vast level to fight back against the financial power of the oil and gas companies.

Read on and then please take action.

Thanks,
Matt

Why I'm Donating My Heinz Award Money to the Fight Against Fracking
Sandra Steingraber beautifully shares why the fight against fracking is so important.

I'm thrilled to receive a Heinz Award in recognition of my research and writing on environmental health. This is work made possible by my residency as a scholar within the Department of Environmental Studies at Ithaca College. Many past and present Heinz Award winners are personal heroes of mine--and Teresa Heinz herself is a champion of women's environmental health--so this recognition carries special meaning for me. And it comes with a $100,000 unrestricted cash prize. Which is stunning.

As a bladder cancer survivor of 32 years, I'm intimately familiar with two kinds of uncertainty: the kind that comes while waiting for results from the pathology and radiology labs and the kind that is created by the medical insurance industry who decides whether or not to pay the pathology and radiology bills. Over the years, I've learned to analyze data and raise children while surrounded by medical and financial insecurities. It's a high-wire act.

But as an ecologist, I'm aware of a much larger insecurity: the one created by our nation's ruinous dependency on fossil fuels in all their forms. When we light them on fire, we fill the atmosphere with heat-trapping gases that are destablizing the climate and acidifying the oceans (whose plankton stocks provide us half of the oxygen we breathe). When we use fossil fuels as feedstocks to make materials such as pesticides and solvents, we create toxic substances that trespass into our children's bodies (where they raises risks for cancer, asthma, infertility, and learning disorders).

Hydraulic fracturing, or fracking, has been implicated in the contamination of groundwater sources with toxic chemicals used to extract natural gas. The natural gas industry has spent more than $10 million lobbying lawmakers in the last two years. (image: crisisera.blogspot.com

Emancipation from our terrible enslavement to fossil fuels is possible. The best science shows us that the United States could, within two decades, entirely run on green, renewable energy if we chose to dedicate ourselves to that course. But, right now, that is not the trail we are blazing. Instead, evermore extreme and toxic methods are being deployed to blast fossilized carbon from the earth. We are blowing up mountains to get at coal, felling boreal forests to get at tar, and siphoning oil from the ocean deep.

Most ominously, through the process called fracking, we are shattering the very bedrock of our nation to get at the petrified bubbles of methane trapped inside. Fracking turns fresh water into poison. It fills our air with smog, our roadways with 18-wheelers hauling hazardous materials, and our fields and pastures with pipelines and toxic pits.

I am therefore announcing my intent to devote my Heinz Award to the fight against hydrofracking in upstate New York, where I live with my husband and our two children. Some might look at my small house (with its mismatched furniture) or my small bank accounts (with their absence of a college fund or a retirement plan) and question my priorities. But the bodies of my children are the rearranged molecules of the air, water, and food streaming through them.

As their mother, there is no more important investment that I could make right now than to support the fight for the integrity of the ecological system that makes their lives possible. As legal scholar Joseph Guth reminds us, a functioning biosphere is worth everything we have. This summer I traveled through the western United States and saw firsthand the devastation that fracking creates. In drought-crippled Texas where crops withered in the fields, I read a hand-lettered sign in a front yard that said, "I NEED WATER. U HAUL. I PAY. "

And still the fracking trucks rolled on, carrying water to the gas wells. This is the logic of drug addicts, not science. I also stood on the courthouse steps in Salt Lake City while climate activist Tim DeChristopher was sentenced to two years in federal prison for an act of civil disobedience that halted the leasing of public land for gas and oil drilling near Arches National Park. Before he was hauled away by federal marshals, Tim said, "This is what love looks like."

From the movie Gasland -- lighting water on fire due to the leaching of gas that has seeped into the ground water in some areas where fracking has been conducted.

After two months of travel, my children and I arrived home to the still unfractured state of New York. After stopping at a local farm stand to buy bread, tomatoes, cheese, and peaches for dinner, we celebrated our return along the vineyard-and-waterfall-lined shore of Cayuga Lake. I watched my son skip stones across its surface. Under his feet lay the aquifer that provides drinking water to our village. This is what security looks like.

Please join me in the struggle to defend the economy and ecology of upstate New York. Bring what you can.

Biologist, author, and cancer survivor Sandra Steingraber explores the links between human health and the environment, with a focus on chemical contamination and effects on children. She takes a personal and scientific look at these issues and offers insights into how we can protect ourselves, our families, and our environment. Her first book, Living Downstream: An Ecologist's Personal Investigation of Cancer and the Environment, was followed by Having Faith: An Ecologist's Journey to Motherhood. Her most recent book is Raising Elijah: Protecting Children in an Age of Environmental Crisis. A columnist for Orion magazine, Sandra Steingraber is currently a scholar in residence in Ithaca College in Ithaca, New York.

© 2011 Independent Media Institute. All rights reserved.
View this story online at: http://www.alternet.org/story/152427/

In Memoriam - Aunt Sissy

2011-09-09T07:28:00.014-04:00

Sep 9, 2011

My Aunt Sissy, Sylvia Kaplan (nee Lotz), passed away last night. We got a call from her neighbor and dear friend, Laura, urging us to come to Coney Island Hospital where she had been taken in an unfruitful effort to revive her. She died peacefully and suddenly after spending a lovely day with her aide Norma. They had been cooped up inside for the past several days while the heavens poured out unending rain. But yesterday was clear and they spent several hours sitting on the green commons outside her Warbasse apartment in Brighton. Sissy was in a wonderful mood and greeted friends and strangers alike. She loved little children and a neighbor, Elena, was there with her kids and Norma said that Sissy was energized by talking to them. That evening she gave Sissy dinner "which she ate well and plentifully" and then washed her and put her to bed where she passed away, literally, in her arms.

Cory and Sissy at the Brooklyn, Botanic Garden
April, 2009

I have memories of my aunt that go back to my earliest years. Married to my mom's youngest sibling, Seymour Kaplan, she lived in Brighton Beach in a small bungalow on one of that neigborhood's unique little passages: Brighton 3rd Place - it was more of an alley than a street. But the family lived happily there and their two children, my cousins Cory and Jay, grew up there, played, made lifelong friends and attended the neighborhood schools. Around the corner on Brighton 4th Street lived Grandma Lilian ("Bunya") and Grandpa Sol ("Zuzick"). So we were there often.

Standing out in my memory are the numerous birthday parties for Jay and Cory; barbecues in the front yard with the extended family all around and we kids racing up and down the path that fronted the house. My mom adored her younger brother Seymour and counted him and Sissy among their close friends. In later years Sissy and Seymour lived in Manhattan Beach for a time and that relationship was even closer - mutual visits and lots of nights out at a favorite diner. The kids, of course, were long gone in those years - the 80's into the 90's - so Stacey and I, living in Manhattan Beach as well, didn't see them but contact was maintained though not as frequently.

In recent years, after Seymour's demise with a terrible bout of cancer and with Jay and Cory living far away, Stacey and I and a niece, Ellen, on Sissy's side of the family, looked after Sissy and dropped in on her frequently. There were many dinners and lunches or just outings. When Sissy had mostly lost her sense of taste we introduced her to Indian cuisine with its strong flavors and she enjoyed that. I remember a birthday party at our favorite Indian restaurant in Bay Ridge. Her boyfriend in those years was Hy who we included in our outings. Hy, too, passed away but Sissy continued on and had many good years.

She lived in the Warbasse development of high rises in West Brighton. She still went to the Brighton Baths which was a wonderful social environment that nourished both Seymour and Sissy with friends and activities. After it closed, she joined a beach club in Sea Gate and continued her socializing there. That was given up in more recent years as she aged and her health deteriorated somewhat.In these last few years, Sissy began to lose her memory and her health continued to fade. There were injuries and falls, a broken hip and elbow and more memory loss and confusion. So it goes. But through it all there was a very sweet woman with a calm demeanor who was always happy to see us and greeted us with a smile and a kiss. We knew it was a genuine affection for us when we visited - it wasn't just a smile pasted on for effect.

I'm fortunate to have celebrated her 91st birthday with her just a week or so ago and that's how I will remember her: smiling, cheerful and happy to see me. When we made a sad farewell last night, viewing her lifeless body at the hospital, I was overcome with an intense sadness, realizing that death is so final - I would never see my dear Aunt Sissy again. We will miss her, almost the very last of her generation in our family. We miss her already.

To see a collection of photos of Aunt Sissy go here.

Our for Pizza at Il Fornino in Williamsburg.
March, 2008.

Milano - Ti Amo!

2010-11-17T10:25:00.014-05:00

-- Nov 16, 2010
from American Airlines flight No. 199, en route to New York from Milan.

We ended our Italian trip with a four day stay in Italy’s fashion and business center, Milano. You'll remember that we began our sojourn two weeks ago on November 2nd, landing in Milan’s Malpensa airport and then immediately boarding a plane for Palermo on Sicily. We joined our friends, Ellen and Brian in sharing a rental apartment in the ancient town of Modica in southeast Sicily - this trip was to celebrate their 40th wedding anniversary. After spending a week with them, Stacey and I drove off of Sicily and onto the Italy's mainland where we drove from the her toe to her heel; i.e. the region of Puglia. Though small in area, Italy has a wide diversity of culture and geography and we were able to savor a few of them with great delight over the course of two weeks.

What can we say about Milan? We loved it. Coming from New York, we felt very much at home in this great Italian metropolis. For sure, there are vast differences. New York is tall and vertical. Milan is decidedly low-rise. And New York is not very old and changing its skyline almost daily it seems. Milan has been around a long time and even though it suffered much destruction from Allied bombs during World War II, it still feels and looks like an old, if not ancient, European city. New York City, and Manhattan in particular, are laid out on a grid. Not so Milan, whose streets emanate from Il Duomo in concentric fashion and then become a mumble-jumble of chaotic confusion where the name of a street changes at a whim as you travel along it.

But what really ingratiated itself to us was the electricity and rhythm - the vibrant buzz of the city. Milano is so alive! People are out and about, on foot, on bike or scooter, in the trams and buses and yes, alas, in their cars that clog the streets and foul the air. Italians do love their cars but at least they sip gas rather than devour it as do ours.

This is decidedly not a city of the working class. Milan is a bourgeois town and it's decorated with the iconography that announces it: the stock market is here and it is the banking and business center of the country. Here is the Quadrilatero della moda high-fashion district with the retail temples of Versace, Chanel, Fiorucci, Prada and Dolce and Gabbana. These are the designers for Italy's ruling class with prices that only the very wealthy can afford. Progessive politics is not very evident here - no graffiti demanding peace or victory for working people - as it might be in other Italian cities where the Left is stronger. No, this is the city of Berlusconi and his far-right partner, Fini (the former’s brother owns the major newspaper and Berlusconi, of course, owns virtually all the broadcast media throughout the country).

But it is also the most ethnically diverse city in Italy - with many Chinese and other Asians, Africans and Arabs evident in the neighborhoods that we walked through. As such, Milan has a more cosmopolitan and international feel than other Italian cities we’ve been to on this trip and before. It has an eclectic architecture - due to the devastation of the war - with an elegant mix of 19th and 20th century buildings. The apartment houses downtown, evidently home to wealthier Milanos, are elegant and substantial with their carved stone facades, corbelled terraces and grand doorways. The palazzi of former royalty surround Il Duomo and inform us that this is a neighborhood of the very rich and powerful.

Because it’s the center of design and fashion, the Milanese dress accordingly. We never saw a t-shirt on a man in a restaurant. Always, a buttoned shirt and a sweater as a minimum. More often, jackets and ties. Rarely jeans and sneakers.Women, too, are dressed formally and fashionably The retail shops, and particularly the clothing stores, are very avant, showing off their wares as if they were works of art. And food? Every few feet, another eating establishment - pizzeria, bar, café, ristorante, osteria, salumeria, frommageria and so on. Again, oozing luxury and elegantly designed to beckon one within. By the way, we never had a bad coffee in all of Italy - we drank café espresso (which we do at home as well) and it was always excellent, even at a gas station on the autostrada. The same goes for Italian tomatoes which, in every instance, exploded with flavor in their salads, pastas and pizza. The food throughout our trip was always high quality in taste and preparation and I often wondered why that’s not true in our country as well. Mostly, it seems, because small establishments still exist in Italy, throughout the country in small towns and big cities alike, where our cuisine has come to be dominated by the huge fast food chains and all that portends for the food we ingest.

Milan’s transit system is a thing of beauty. We’ve learned that this is true throughout Europe which, by and large, did not destroy their trams and trains in favor of the auto and truck. While we’re paying for that reckless lack of planning at home, Europeans have access to modern mass transit now as they have always had in the past. Our hotel, which was in a residential neighborhood on the outskirts of the city, was very convenient to the centro historico (historical center) via the No. 12 tram which stopped right on our corner. What a delight! It woved its way slowly, but methodically, downtown, passing one interesting neighborhood after another. With our 24-hour billetto (ticket) we were able to hop-on and hop-off as we pleased - and we did, riding and walking and exploring wherever we wanted. Other choices included a subway ride or a bus, part of an extensive system that covers the entire city and beyond to the surrounding metropolitan area.

And bicycles, once again, were in good use. Not, perhaps, nearly as much as in other European cities. But Milanese of all ages and classes use them quite a bit to get around easily; to avoid the traffic jams and to reach areas not serviced by a tram or bus. We saw elderly men and women, hip young women and businessmen in suits with briefcases, all cycling here and there on errands or on their way to work or wherever. The city also provides many locations to rent, very inexpensively, so-called city bikes that can be picked up at one spot and returned to another - a very convenient way to get around. Still, unlike even New York, there are few, if any, bike lanes and the streets are very often paved with large cobblestones and inlaid with tram rails, making, it seemed to me, a somewhat hazardous place to ride a bike.

We walked – a lot! That may be our saving grace as we ate much more than we are accustomed to. We must have walked quite a few miles each day that we were in Milano. From the Duomo to the Poldi Pezzoli museum; from the Centro to the Coin department store a while away; from one side of Parco Sempione to a hip bar scene near the Arca della Pace on the park’s other end – we walked and walked and walked. At the end of each day, yes - we were tired!

So, we loved Milan - even with our critical outlook of its fashion, banking and business demeanor. We love cities and the social cooperation that they foster and so we loved Milano for its city-ness; we loved it for its vibrancy, its big city feel, its elegance and for its people who, like people everywhere, were friendly and always willing to give directions and advice when asked by a tourist in need. We’d return again without hesitation.

===

Now for some highlights, in words and pictures of our four days in Milan. By the time you read this, we will be back in Brooklyn - the joy of travel and our Italian trip will soon become a memory. One reason for writing about our travel is to commit our experience to paper something a bit more firm than my fleeting memory. This serves my purpose but I hope you’ve enjoyed reading, and travelling, along with us as well.

Buon giorno e ariverderci! Ciao, ciao! - Matteo

Day 1, Friday -

We arrived from Bari by plane to Milan’s Malpensa airport and rode into town and our hotel on the Malpensa Express - a train ride to Milan’s center. Our hotel, however, was not downtown - that kept expenses within reason since Milan is one of the ten most expensive cities in the world and Italy’s most expensive. We debarked the train at the Bovisa station, couldn’t find a taxi easily so we walked to the hotel - a big, and very tiring, mistake. We reached our hotel, luggage in tow, some 40 minutes later. That might have been easier a few years ago.

After a long nap, we ventured downtown, catching the No. 12 tram on our corner. It took us to the historic center and Milan’s marvelous cathedral: Il Duomo.

Our first glimpse of Milan's Duomo - was this an appartion of the night?
Remember that you can click on any photo to see it clearer and larger.

Tonight was just for a first look. Tomorrow we'll explore the Duomo with a bit more energy.

The Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II is a covered arcade built in grand style between 1865 and 1877. It connects the Duomo and La Scala plazas and is an incredible monument in its own right. It's filled with all the names of Italian high fashion and very fancy restaurants, shops and bars. Breathtaking just to see it or stand within and look up and around!

A place to see and be seen: the famous Milan Galleria - the progenitor of today's shopping malls. Built from 1865-77.

That's the famous La Scala opera house.
Click any photo to see it larger.

We walked around the Duomo and La Scala plazas and then started off, following the GPS-Google map on my Blackberry. Our destination was about a mile away - Ristorante Maruzella. We would meet up with our friends Ellen and Brian who we had spent almost a week with on Sicily earlier in our trip, This was our first night in Milan but their last - they were flying back to Washington the next day.

Our firt night in Milan was Ellen and Bran's last night in Italy. We met them for dinner at a very popular pizzeria that they had been eating at over a few days: Ristorante Maruzella.

Our very friendly pizza maestros at Maruzella.

After dinner, posing in front of an elaborately-carved door of an apartment building.

Day 2, Saturday -

We again rode downtown, getting of the tram and walking through some neighborhoods near the Piccolo Theater. The streets were abuzz with people out and about for the weekend. Flea markets were here and there and the shops were open and beckoning buyers with beautiful displays of their wares - clothing, knicknacks, furniture and, always, food, food, food.

Press PLAY for a Milano street scene video.

Signs at many tran stops inform you when the next one will be arriving.

It's not Amsterdam, but bikes are plenty popular and used by all ages to easily get around town. Still, with cobbled streets and trolley tracks -- I wouldn't feel particulaly comfortable. A view from our tram as it passes Parco Sempione.

There are flower vendors everywhere.

Elegant apartments in downtown Milan.

One of the older tram cars. Some date from the late ‘20s, are well maintained and are beloved by Milan's riders.

A scooter store with a Vespa 150 in the window. I have always loved Italian design - classic!

Milano downtown - elegant apartment houses.

We walked until we reached Il Duomo and took in its grace and majesty again - this time in a gray daylight (it’s rainy season in Italy). It’s an amazing work of art, begun in the 1300's and not completed until the 1960's! As such, it’s quite an amalgam of different eras and architectures and architecturally controversial in that regard. What do we know -- to us, it just seemed magical.

Il Duomo.

Detail of Milan Duomo.
Click to see larger & clearer.

Interior - altar and aisle, Milan Duomo.

We left the Duomo and walked north to the Brera district with its restaurants, shops and hi-fashion streets. We were hungry. Our hotel did not include breakfast so we were searching out a tourbook recommended eatery: Obiká, billed as the world’s first mozzarella bar. On Saturday they offered a buffet and it was fabulous. Along with four or five different mozzarellas made from the much-praised and admired milk of the buffalo, there was Italian salami and prociutto, arugola and tomato salads, potatoes (yes, potatoes - which were on the menu in virtually every restaurant we ate in throughout Italy - fried or roasted), pasta, soup and lots of pastries and fruit for desert.

On Saturday, our first full day in town, we had lunch at Obiká, billed as the world's first "mozzarella bar."

Milan street scene: bike, tram tracks cobbled pavement.

One of Milan's most famous salumieria (salami store) - Rossi and Grassi on Via Ponte Vetero. Mouth watering!

We headed back to the hotel and rested - we’ve discovered that travelling at 62 and 64 is not as easy as it used to be. However, that night we tried to recapture our youth by heading to one of the city’s hip bar areas where large portions of free aperativi are served along with your drinks - but, after a long walk along Parco Sempione to the Arca della Pace, we found the hip places there too young, too crowded, too smoky (oh boy! do they smoke!) and too noisy for our squarer tastes. It was quite late already - about 10:30 - when we finally found a quieter and very lovely place, the Ristorante de Nuova Arena, just off the park and we shared a delicious pizza and salad and then made our way back to the hotel, not with the greatest of ease - it was late and the trams were on a reduced Saturday night schedule, so we waited and waited and ... it finally did arrive. An adventure for sure.

Heading out again on Saturday night. We’re catching the No. 12 tram - right on the corner of our hotel on Via Villapizzone. This is one of the old cars - charming.

5782 Stacey on an old No. 12 tram. Charming.

Day 3, Sunday -

It was a drizzly, gray day but surprisingly mild in the mid 50s. Because of the rain we decided to take in one of Milan’s museums and we headed to the Poldi Pezzoli, east of Il Duomo. The museum was named after a wealthy and royal collector of the 19th century and is housed in his former palazzo. Much of the interior has been renovated to make it more accessible for use as a museum. But some of the groom still have the grandeur and furnishings of the former palazzo. It was a graphic display of the incredible wealth of yesterday’s (and today’s) aristocrati rulers. The museum was presently running an exhibition of the great Italian master, Botticelli and included two of hist most famous works.

Press PLAY to watch Pinnochio play some music in Piazza Cordusio.

A Botticelli exhibit at the Poldi Pezzoli museum. The museum is in a beautiful palazzo owned by a wealthy Milanese collector of art. This is the Madonna of the Book.

Botticelli's masterpiece: the Lamentation over the Dead Christ.

After the museum, we perused the famous Quartolateral fashion district, so-named because its rectangle is defined by four thoroughfares. Here were the big names of fashion, in shops that oozed the extravagant and avant garde designs that have made Milan one of the centers of fashion and design.

Walking through Milan's high fashion district, the so-called Quadrilatero della moda (quadrilateral of fashion). Prices are as outrageous as the fashions themselves. Who wears this stuff? Click the picture to see it larger.

Handbag envy.

Ogling Dolce & Gabbana in the rain on Milano's famous Via della Spiga.

After our walk through fashionista alley we headed, via subway this time, to a neighborhood southwest of the Duomo - the Navigli. This part of Milan contains the remnants of canals, now drained and no-longer used, that were designed by Leonardo DaVinci to enhance commerce in the city. The neighborhood is one of the city’s new, young and hip areas, filled with bars, cafes and shops. That reminded us of New York which, it seems, constantly reinvents itself with new, vibrant neighborhoods. At the same time, we wondered if the same process of gentrification in our neighborhoods that displaces poor residents with new, well-heeled ones is at work in Milan and concluded that it probably is.

Having not fared so well the previous evening, searching for Milan’s aperativi during their version of happy hour, we were willing to try again at a bar touted for the some of the best (free) appetizers in town. And we found them at Le Biciclette (The Bicycles), a very modern bar, decorated with bicycles and bicycle wheels. The place was empty at 6:30 when we showed up. The crowds don’t show up until 7:30 or so and these places, as we had learned the night before, get really hot and packed at eight or nine and into the wee hours.

At the Navigli - canals, now drained, that were designed by Leonardo to improve commerce in the city. Previously seedy and run down; now hip and youthful with lots of shops and eateries.

Sunday night "dinner" was in the Navigli where happy hours means lots of free aperativos when you buy a drink and hang out. A Milano tradition. This place, decorated with bicycle ephemera was called, naturally enough, Le Biciclette - The Bicycles. Click photo to see larger.

On our way back we took the tram and, while waiting for it, I shot this photo of Milan’s rain-soaked streets.

Day 4, Sunday -

This was our lazy day and our last day in Milan. It rained, fairly hard and steadily, most of the day. We had to pick up a few more gifts for our grandchildren so Stacey suggested we visit an Italian department store and our No. 12 tram would take us all the way there without any switching and standing in the rain waiting for the next one to come along. We were going to check out the Coin (Cohen’s) department store, a ubiquitous Italian chain. We took the tram to striking distance and then got off because, again, the neighborhood looked interesting and we still had the explorer itch in us. We walked several blocks and came across the Camera Dei Lavori Milanese - it was the headquarters for one of the trade union confederations in the city. Just around the corner was a pizzeria that was crowded with people - usually a good sign - and we entered the Ristorante Porta Vittoria. The joint was filled with people from the union hall and the staff was friendly and welcoming. The food was also welcoming - very! We shared another pizza and a plate of risoto ai porcini e branzino. Wonderful on both counts. A cute waitress tried out her English on us and I tried out my Italian - her attempts were much better than mine.

On our way to Coin (in English - "Cohen"), the Italian Department Store, we found this restaurant next to the trade union headquarters and frequented by thir workers. We had a superb risotto with porcini mushrooms and branzino and a great pizza (is there any other kind in Italy?)

We thought that that would be it for food on our last day and went back to the hotel and a long rest. But we’ve found out that the more you heat the hungrier you get. Why? So I fired up the laptop and Googled our hotel and searched the environs for a restaurant. The hotel staff had told us that there were none since we were in a residential neighborhood. But how wrong they were! We had dinner at L’imagine Bistrot, just a few minutes walk away, and what a treat that was! First, the effusive welcome when we walked in and then at our table with clementines and oranges, wonderful crusty bread and marinated sun-dried tomatoes that the owner had prepared. Next two glasses of sparkling prosecco were brought to the table. After the risotto for lunch, Stacey decided she had to have a bit more, so we ordered the Milanese version which adds saffron to the mix - Oh -- So good! This was a meat restaurant so I ordered the tagliata di bisteca - tender and tasty steak cut in strips with an arugala salad and the omnipresent roast potatoes on the side. Great also. “No desert please” I demurred. So they sent a bottle of limoncello, cookies and a dish of peanuts and almonds to the table instead. Then, as we parted company, the young owner insisted that we have a glass of grappa with him ... which we did. Then we sort of staggered the few blocks back to our hotel. It was a memorable night out, and perhaps the best dinner of our trip, though that’s hard to say, food in Italy being so good..

L'Imagine Bistrot - a gem of a restaurant and a 4 minute walk from our hotel.

Besides wonderful food, a very warm welcome with fruit, sundried tomatoes, crusty bread and prosecca - all courtesy of the house. This was our last night in italy.

Day 5, Tuesday -

Today we rose early at 5:30, brought our luggage to the lobby and called a cab which came promptly. We asked to be brought to the Bovisa station where we’d catch the Malpensa Express train to the airport. But the driver promptly informed us, in broken English, that the train was not running due to electrical problems. He could drive us the 30 miles to the airport for the fixed fee of 85 Euros. My New York City antennae went up - were we being scammed? He seemed so nice and genuine. But when he said he would cut the fare to 80 Euro I knew we were being had. “No, just take us to Bovisa station and then wait for us,” I told him. Stacey went inside to find out the status of the train. Sure enough, it was running. There were no problems. It was a sad little coda to an otherwise wonderful few days in Milan. There’s always one bad apple.

This was Stacey’s fifth trip to Italy and my fourth. We’ll probably come back again - it has the perfect blend of ingredients that make travelling so rewarding - beautiful scenery, great food, wonderful people. Then again, there is that book: “One Thousand Places To See Before You Die.” Thanks for travelling with us. Until the next time.

- Matteo

To see ALL my Milano photos, simply CLICK HERE.

Arriverderci Lecce. Onwards To See Some Trulli. Truly!

2010-11-12T17:09:00.046-05:00

Saturday, Nov 13, 2010, Milan

We left Lecce on Thursday, with regrets, because it's a romantic and beautiful Italian town that we rapidly became attached to. With its graceful streets and beautiful architecture and its college town atmosphere, it's the kind of place one can relax in and feel very much at home fairly quickly.I did promise you in my last post, a few more pictures of Lecce's most impressive Baroque building - the incredible Basilica di Santa Croce (Basilica of the Holy Cross). You may have already peaked at those pictures on my SmugMug site but in case not, here's one or two to gawk at. Gawk is what we did when we first came across this amazing church. As my sister-in-law Lori wrote to me - "it's spectacular but almost ungapatchka "(to use an Italian phrase.)

And the first prize for the craziest Barocco Leccese architecture goes to.... La Basilica di Santa Croce (The Basilica of the Holy Cross). It took 100 years to build in the 1600's and bears the imprint of several famous architects, most notably Giuseppe Zimbalo (1670 - 1710).Click any photo to see more detail.

The rose window of the Basilica is surrounded by stone with amazing detail. You don't know where to look first.

For more Basilica photos, just CLICK HERE.

We drove north toward Bari and the Valle d'Itria, (the Valley of Itria), which contains some of Italy's most beautiful and unusual villages. They are very close together so, on our way to Corato (a town outside of Bari and our stopover for the night before an early flight on Friday to Milano) we decided to tour the valley and its towns.

First stop was Ostuni- also known as The White Town because of its gleaming whitewashed buildings and street paving. It sits atop a hill and is visible from the distance, appearing almost dreamlike as if it were a bleached-white version of Oz. Actually, all the buildings of this small valley's towns were white and very unusual for Italy They were more like Greek villages in that respet.

It began to rain and my back was aching, preventing much walking, so we drove on to the next town, Cisternino, known for its macellerias - butcher shops that will cook your selection on the spot, for an eat-in-the-rough or take-home meal. But it was siesta time and the shops were closed so we opted for a restaurant that performed the same duty - the various meats were in a butcher counter up front; in back was a lovely hosteria, Da Mimmo, where one could enjoy traditional meals or the cooked meat specialties (which I, of course, opted for -- I always have to try everything).

A piazza in Cisternino, one of the Valle d'Itria villages. We stopped for lunch here.

Stacey at Da Mimmo in Cisternino.

We continued along our way, driving west and passed by Locorotundo, known for its Prosecco sparkling wine. But it was getting late and we were getting tired. A storm seemed to be brewing and the sky turned almost black, setting a dramatic backdrop to the brilliant white town. So we stopped to take some photos of that scene and then drove on to the final and most famous town of Alberobello.

The town of Locorotundo (crazy and fat??) seemed an appartion as we drove toward it and a storm that was coming toward us. >> Click the photo to see it more clearly.

The Valley of Itria was quite lovely - it lies on a limestone upland that provides acreage for fertile farmland and that was evident all around us - myriad olive groves and vineyards were visible throughout the day. Some of the trees must have been very old, twisted and knarled as they were.

But the most peculiar feature of the valley was its unique style of home, called a Trullo. These were, it's said, originally shepherd's huts but later came to be used as dwellings. They are built of the native stone in conical form and without any mortar. As the story goes, they could be rapidly disassembled to avoid taxation when the taxman came to call. Looks like, mortar or not, that would not be an easy job but who am I to knock the legend?

There were hundreds and hundreds of Trulli throughut the valley and they have, in recent years, become the hot property of gentry from other parts of Europe looking for interesting and unique real estate investments. As such, they've been modernized and restored and are really quite interesting. Some have several connected cones making a tiny room into a multi-tiny-roomed dwelling; each cone comprises one room.

We came across this lovely Trullo on the road to Locorotundo. Click the photo to see it larger and clearer.

When it comes to Trulli, it is said, you must go to Alberobello, the last town on our valley tour. There are more Trulli here than anywhere else and the town has been declared a Unesco World Heritage site because of it. It is also a tourist mecca and a Trulli cottage industry (no pun intended) has grown up there. Fortunately, we're visiting in November. We hate to think what this place looks like during high season.

Trulli town: Alberobello. Why and how this came to be and how come it's nowhere else is a mystery that remained unanswered.

Alberobello at dusk.

It was time to set our GPS for Corato, outside of Bari, and our stopping over point for the fight to Milan on Friday. We'd spend four nights in Milan, Italy's high fashion and business center. We didn't know what to expect. To find out you should tune back in when I file my next post.

In the meantime, take a look at ALL of today's photos by CLICKING HERE.

Heal And Toe And Away We Go

2010-11-10T01:15:00.016-05:00

Wednesday, Nov 10, 2010

We left Modica and Sicily on Monday by taking the ferry to cross the Straights of Messina at the Sicilian city of the same name. We had borrowed Dani's GPS and I found a European chip for it on Ebay before we left. It gave us maps of the roads we needed. Problem was, it might have been a couple of years old and road building is proceeding at a rapid pace on Sicily. Here and there, we came to dead ends where there should have been an entry ramp or an Autrostrada where the map said there was no road at all! A little bit stressful making our way north to Messina. Once we found ourself in an industrial backwash of Catania, Mount Etna in the distance, a huge garbage dump to our west and a few scantily dressed prostitutes soliciting the occasional driver who passed by. It was a scene out of a Fellini movie I thought. The beauty part of GPS, however, is you really can't get lost. It just keeps correcting you and pointing you to your final direction - maybe not the best route but you will get there in the end. And we did.

We boarded the ferry at the big and bustling city of Messina. You could see the mainland across the choppy waters, a few miles away. Before we knew it, we were on the A3 Autostrada and heading North out of Messina's twin across the straights, San Giovanni. The road took us through breathtaking vistas of mountain and sea as we headed north up Italy's "instep." To our west was the vast Tyrrhennian Sea and all around us the towering Appenine mountains. The Italians are master road builders - the Autostrada went through tunnel after tunnel as it cut a path right through the mountains. At other times we spanned wide valleys on bridges that balanced on concrete stilts hundreds of feet high. Awesome!

From Modica to Lecce - a beautiful car ride. We stopped on Monday nigh at "A" - the capital of Calabria province. Click the map to see it larger.

On the Ferry at Messina, Sicily. The mainland of Italy - the "toe" - is visible across the Straits of Messina.
Remember - you can click on any photo to see it larger and clearer.

We awoke Tuesday morning to continue our ride. Now we were heading east to Italy's "heel" - the province of Puglia. Our destination, the beautiful Baroque town of Lecce filled with palazzi and chiese (palaces and churches) built of Piedra Leccese (stone of Lecce, which to this day is the city's largest export) in a Baroque-Rococco manner that some have described as either fabulously beautiful or over-the-top maniacal - such was the extravagance of design that led one architect to outdo the work of another. The city is a masterpiece of design and construction and we immediatly fell in love with it on our first walk its piazzas and pedestrianized streets.

The triangular staircase (you're looking straight down from the fourth floor) of our Hotel, La Casa Dei Mercanti, in Lecce. Many hotels we've been to are on upper floors of a building and share the occupancy with other residences or, as in this case, with offices.

Our Lecce Hotel, La Casa dei Mercanti, is located on this lovely square: the Piazza de Oronzo. The piazza is the center of the historic district. We have a "Junior Suite" with bedroom, bath, living room, Kitchen and dining area. Quite nice but we later found out, very noisy at night with party goers roaming the piazza and adjacent streets till late at night.

This is a university town. So Lecce's old streets and plazas (many of which are barred to car traffic) are teeming with students, walking or biking to and fro. It also seems to be a wealthy town, or perhaps an attractor of wealthy tourists, as the streets are lined with expensive, upscale shops. It's known for its papier-mache and terra-cotta crafts - there are dozens of "laboratories" where artisans create their artwork.

Lecce has a system of inexpensive-to-rent city bikes. Hop on, Hop off. And tour the city on two wheels. A fabulous way to see the town - and, by and large, no cars to strike fear in you.

The Roman amphitheater (the largest in all of Puglia) was discovered not too long ago when excavation was made for the foundation of a bank.
Remember - you can click on any photo to see it larger and clearer.

When they talk of Lecce, they talk of its over-the-top Baroque architecture.

The history of Lecce is too complicated to describe here - needless to say it is the same story of Italy and Europe as a whole - internecine strife and war with endless conquests and conquering. From the 15th century Lecce became one of the most important cites in southern Italy and beginning around 1630 it was restored with its precious Baroque design, in favor at the time, to showcase the wealth and power of its various Roman Catholic orders - the Jesuits, Celestines and Benedictines. Palaces of the wealthy merchants, many from Venice, were also renovated during that period and survive to this day and give the town its elegant appearance.

This is Il Duomo de Lecce - it stands in all its glory on the piazza of the same name - a serene and beautiful courtyard.

The Duomo's bell ower in a fading sunlight.

We walked some more and understood why Lecce is known as the "city of churches." At every turn, it seemed, there was another lovely old church, all with the hallmark Barocco Leccese decorations. Quite an amazing collection and preserved for us to admire hundreds of years later.

We headed back to our hotel as the light faded on our fist day in Lecce. Passing by the Duomo, the courtyard was now illuminated but also bathed in the fading dayling - quite a lovely sight.

Dinner was at a local restaurant that served typical Luccese fare: we shared a pasta - cece con vongole - chickpeas with clams, that was quite delicious. And then we shared marvelous lamb chops (agnello) that sat in an intense balsamic reduction. Served with some fantastic Pugliese onion bread and a bottle of the local wine, Salice Salentino, it was a wonderful and memorable dinner. A short walk home and a sweet night of repose and rest - the better to explore the town the next day.

Down the street from the fabulous Duomo, still another church with fanciful decoration. The architects spared nothing to cover every inch with their artwork.

We headed back to our hotel as sunset turned the lovely streets dark.

We passed by Il Duomo on our way back to the hotel. Now it was bathed in the last bits of sunlight and was quite something to behold.

The next day we just strolled around taking in Lecce which we had grown pretty fond of. A visit to the Basilica of the Holy Cross (Chiesa de Santa Croce) was on our list as it's considered the ultimate example of the Leccese style of Baroque architect. And, indeed, it took our breath way when we came upon it.

But for that, you'll have to return to our next post. Arriverdci! - Matteo

To see all my photos of Lecce - just CLICK HERE.

Hey! Ragusa's A Nice Town

2010-11-07T05:33:00.016-05:00

Sunday, Nov 7, 2010

This week's going very fast (as it always does when we travel). Can't believe we've been here since Tuesday. Tomorrow we leave for the second half of our journey - we drive off of Sicily onto the "toe" and up and across to the "heel." That journey will take us through the provinces of Calabria and Basilicata and on to our destination - Puglia and its towns of Brindisi and Lecce.

Our route beginning tomorrow, Monday. Click the map to see it larger.

But first let me tell you about our yesterday (Saturday). We took a short drive to the nearby city of Ragusa. It's situated on a mountain that's a thousand feet up and divided into upper and lower parts - the lower town is called Ibla and is the historic center. The upper part is the modern Ragusa. The two are connected by elaborate sets of steps and steep, swtichbacked roads. The city traces its routes back into distant history, dating to the 2nd millenium BC when it was settled by the ancient Sicels. Ibla was probably one of the settlements of the Sicels, identified as Hybla Heraea. Subsequently, it was ruled by the Greeks, Romans, and the Byzantines. And from 848 to the eleventh century it was under the thrall of the Arabs who were then conquered in turn by the Normans. What a history! - all of these cultures left their imprint on this city and on Sicily as a whole.

We arrived in Ragusa Ibla, the lower town, and parked the car. Right next to that parking spot was a lovely public gardens that we wandered through. As we strolled through this palm-filled paradise, filled with views out over the mountainous countryside, we were approached by a noisy gaggle of smiling 10-year olds. "Do you speak English?" they inquired. "Yes, why do you want to know?" A back and forth ensued (with very broken English and our even brokener Italian). Finally, their teachers approached. They were on a class trip (it was Saturday). Their task was to find tourists who spoke English so they could practice their language lessons! So cute and so friendly!

With our new friends in the gardens in Ibla.
Click the photo to see it larger and clearer.

Our new amici in the beautiful gardens in Ibla.

The centerpiece of Ibla is its Duomo or cathedral. San Giorgio was designed by the same architect who created the Duomo of the same name in Modica. Both had the same three-tiered construction decorated with elaborate Corinthian columns. The Duomo is approached by a broad and elegant promenade bordered with buildings that showcase the Baroque architecture created by the Spanish rulers as they rebuilt their colony in the period after the devastating earthquake of 1693.

Brian is walking up Ibla's grand promenade. The walkway is the approach to the beautiful Duomo and is bordered with splendid buildings of baroque style architecture.

Ibla's Duomo (cathedral) San Giorgio is magnificent and has six splendid palms that lead you to its steps.

The bell tower and steps of the Duomo and its magnificent iron fence that surrounds it.

We walked through the cathedral and then out a different door into the back streets of a quiet residential neighborhood. The buildings were decorated with Baroque features and balconies with supports of whimsical gargoyles. The homes, as in Modica, looked out on vast panoramas of the surrounding hillsides. Do the residents take all that for granted or do they wake each day enchanted with the vistas that greet them through their windows, I wondered.

Some friends who were watching us as we walked Ibla's streets.
Remember to click on any photo to see it larger.

Room with a view!

How the guys pass the time in Ragusa. Women are rarely seen socializing in the streets.

We drove to the upper town for lunch at Locanda al Boccancino which was recommended to us by the local tourist office and then strolled down to the see the steps that connect the upper and lower towns (we had had enough steps for a while so we merely observed them this time. Then we drove the short distance back to Modica, napped and went out for what was probably our most memorable and delicious dinner of our week in Modica. El Girasole, The Sunflower, was a bit out of the way on a back street. It was a local joint, frequented by families and locals out for an inexpensive meal. And what a great experience! The food was superb and the staff friendly and efficient. We even met a couple from Milano who we had come across earlier in the day in Ragusa - they were dining there too - what a funny coincidence. It's a small island!

But the best part of dinner was getting there. The normally deserted main street of Modica Bassa (lower town) was thronged by hundreds of people out for La Passeggiata- their evening stroll. Modicans were out and about - all ages - socializing, shmoozing, romancing. It was a fantastic site and it was thrilling to be part of it.

Steps can take you from Ragusa (upper) all the way down to Ibla (Ragusa lower).

It's Saturday night and the streets are swarming with people doing their evening stroll -La Passeggiata, an Italian ritual
Remember to click on any photo to see it larger.

At Il Girasole (The Sunflower) -- The ambience was perfect - we joined local families out for the night. And the food was delightful. A memorable night out.

Oh look! A nice American coouple in a little Sicilian restaurant. How cute.

To see ALL of my Ragusa photos, simply CLICK HERE to go to my SmugMug photo site.

We Visit An Ancient Town Famous For Its Ceramics - Caltagirone

2010-11-06T20:11:00.019-04:00

Nov 6, 2010

On Thursday, November 4th, we decided to take a day trip that we'd repeat to different locations several times during our week in Modica. This day we'd visit another UNESCO World Heritage city - Caltagirone, about an hour's ride from Modica. I didn't mention it previously but this area of southeast Sicily was flattened by a devastating earthquake in 1693. At that time, Sicily was ruled by Spain and the area was rebuilt in the architectural choice of its ruler - Spanish baroque. Thus are these cities wonderful and unique treasures of that style of construction. Nothing remains of the ancient buildings that preceded the earthquake. In that regard, these are all new cities built from the 1700's on.

Caltagirone has been known as a center of ceramics production through the ages. The craft was brought to the region by the Moorish artisans of the Byzantine empire. Local pottery with typical Sicilian subject matter and tiles are produced in studios and shops throughout the city. And the bridges and stairs are decorated with tiles produced by those artists who study at a ceramics school located in this town.

The city's most famous feature is the Scala of Santa Maria del Monte, a fabulous 17th century staircase of seveal hundred steps that ascends to a church of the same name on high. Each riser is decorated with a unique ceramic tile design! The view from on top is breathtaking.

If this were Brooklyn we'd be sipping Americanos in Prospect Perk, our local cafe of choice, but we're in Italy so instead we are Americanos sipping espresso in a cafe in Caltagirone. Huh?
Remember, you can click on any photo to see it larger and clearer.

Caltagirone - a UNESCO World Heritage town, known through the ages for its ceramics. Even its bridges are decorated with tiles!

Bridge decorations in Caltagirone. Click the picture to see it larger and clearer.

The 16th century Scala Santa Maria del Monte - each step is decorated with a ceramic tile of unique design.

Each riser's design is different than any other.

Kids run down la scala. We noticed the Star of David design on the bottom step here. Many of these towns in Sicily had Jewish communities in the middle ages. I should note that these tiles are from the modern era and made by contemporary artists of today's Caltagirone.

Tiles on one of the risers. Each riser's design is different than any other's. Click the picture to see it larger and clearer.

That's Brian making his way up the steps.

After our climb up and down la scala, we searched for a restaurant that had been given good reviews online: Il Locandatiere - The Innkeeper. It was said to have good food, typical of the region and specializing in fish: the reviews were right on! Pasta con pesche for Ellen, pasta con vongole (clams) for me, pasta with jackfish for Brian and Stacey also had fish but without the pasta.

Lunch at Il Locandiere - The Innkeeper, a lovely fish restaurant in Caltagirone. Click the picture to see it larger and clearer.

Here's my spaghetti with vongole (clams).

In one of the city's hundreds of ceramic shops.

We made our way back to our car and the drive home to Modica. Dinner was in a pizzeria in our neighborhood in Alta Modica - simple, cheap and rewarding. Tomorrow, we venture to yet another town, nearby Ragusa. But that's another day. Now for some sweet repose. And buona notte to you my friends, as well. - da Matteo in Sicilia.

To see ALL of today's Caltagirone photos, simply CLICK HERE!

If It's Tuesday It Must Be Italia

2010-11-04T17:51:00.046-04:00

Nov 4, 2010

Hello to my friends and family on the other side of the Atlantic. This is your travelling Blogster, Matteo Weinstein, writing to you from the ancient town of Modica, in Sicily, where we arrived on, um, well, a few days ago. I beg your pardon for not knowing precisely when we arrived here - it was a long, long trip and if you read on you'll understand my confusion.

We left New York on Monday. Our dear friends, Rhonda and Jim, visiting us from Florida and watching our house as we travel, drove us to JFK at 4pm for our six o'clock flight to Milano. Italy is already on standard time so the difference is five hours instead of the usual six (that'll change this Sunday when the U.S. goes back to standard time - a little bit confusing already, no?)

We arrived in Milan the next day, Tuesday, at 7am (2am in NYC - you're getting to understand why I don't now where or when). We then spent a five hour layover at Milano's Malpensa airport so we could catch a one-and-a-half hour flight to Palermo on the isle of Sicilia. After debarking that second flight, we picked up a Renault rental (it's now 3 pm - your time 10 am!) and drove five hours to the southeast side of the island - to our rental home (and to meet our friends Ellen and Brian with whom we are sharing the house) in Modica. Tired? That doesn't begin to describe our state of mind and being.

The ride was exciting ... and challenging. The firt half, to the city of Enna, was on a modern Autostrada, Italy's wonderfully engineered version of our Interstates. Darkness, however, descended around 5:30 and the Autostrada ended along with the daylight.

The balance of our ride was on the tiniest, narrowest, curviest roads that I've ever driven upon. Of course, the car, as most all cars in Europe, is a manual shift. Italian drivers are molto, molto crazy: fast, aggeressive and, it seems, suicidal. They pass at all times: on a straight-away; on a curve; if oncoming cars are visible or not. They ride about 6 inches behind you, just waiting for the opportunity to pass. If a passing car is comingtoward you, it's your responsibility, not his, to hug your shoulder to avoid a collision! Try this sometime in a car your're not familiar with on roads your not familiar with and after having been on two flights that began a day or two ago without more than and hour or so of sleep. So, again, what day is today??!!

Fashionistas and fashion ads in the fashionable Milan airport. Remember, you can click any photo to see it larger with better detail.

Stop number two of a very long travel day(s): Palermo's airport. We're tired! We've been on the go from 3pm the day before - it's now 3 pm the next day! Not there yet. Click the pic to see it larger!

We arrived late that evening having eaten some pizza and panini at a gas station on the road. Brian and Ellen were already ensconced in the lovely apartment that would be our home for the next six days. We talked a while and then turned in to bed and a long-awaited and sweet sleep.

The next day, Wednesday, we spent exploring the town. The town of Modica is one of the reasons people should leave home behind and travel. Life in Modica is so far removed from our lives in Brooklyn that visiting here is a lesson on just how varied in habits, lifestyle and culture our world is. And, at the same time, how much we share with people of different lands and cultures; - from the little things like a sense of humor to the larger qualities of humanity and decency that seem to be part of most people throughout our small world.

Built on the two stunningingly steep sides of a narrow valley, the medievil town is perched precariously on the ledges and cliffs that overhang Modica Bassa - the lower part of the village. Through that lower part of the V that forms this city is Corso Umberto I - the main street and commercial strip with its cafes, bars, restaurants and shops. Up above live the people. Up above are the homes with their tile rooves (not red as is typical in many parts of Europe but a drab tan that, when viewed from afar makes the town look like a city of stone). The houses are ancient, the churches are ancient. The streets, such as they are, are a twisted warren of narrow lanes, passageways, ramps and stairs that, eventually, make their way down to Corso Umberto where people conduct their commercial business. It's our contention that there are no obese people living here - the amount of calories exerted in ascending and descending the steps and streets of this town sees to that.

Our house, at 9 Via Santa Lucia, is a charmingly renovated apartment with a breathtaking view of the town from above. The owner, an artist, has decorated this villa with a modern touch. There are framed photos of famous artists on the walls, a sweet little kitchen, terraces that overlook the town. It's a cozy place to return to after a walk (huff, puff) around town or a day travelling to other locales in the area.

The view from our house in Modica. Click the picture to see it larger!

This is our home sweet home: 9 Via Santa Lucia. - yes, this is our "street".

Modica is an ancient Sicilian town. It's "streets" consist of endless flights of steps connecting a warren of very narrow lanes and and passageways.

Lots and lots of stairs keep Modicans slim and fit.

We set off for an exploratory walk around (and up and down) the town. We pledged to leave our cars parked for the duration as automobiles are not the way to explore this town: first, the streets are terribly clogged with traffic and second, up on the hills it's impossible (at least for us unfamiliar Americans) to venture anywhere by car - the streets are way too narrow.

In our immediate neighborhood stands the ancient church of St. Giorgio - the foundations of which were begun in 1050 A.D. In front of St. Giorgio are some 250 steps descending to the Modica Bassa - this was a really impressive church up on the hill and it stood there gleaming in its brilliant white limestone exterior.

The cathedral of St. Giorgio.

The view from the front of St. Giorgio. This is November - flowers are in full bloom. Click the pic to see it larger!

A lovely piazza on Corso Umberto I, the town's main commercial street - down in the "valley."

We returned home for cocktails and some appetizers before setting out for dinner at a restaurant down (again!) on the main street: the highly-rated Osteria dei Sapori Perduti which served hearty and inexpensive traditional fare - it was basic and very good we all agreed. Corrado, a roving accordionist played some sweet tunes and when I requested Bella Ciao, a song of the anti-fascist partisans of Word War II, he responded with a lovely and passionate rendition.

Corrado plays Bella Ciao for us.

Ellen and Brian and a bottle of Nero D'Avola - made from Sicily's famous grape.

After a bottle of that Sicilian wine, Ellen and Stacey see Corrado in a whole new light -- he's their Italian Mick Jagger. Click the pic to see it larger!

Tomorrow, we visit the Unesco World Heritage town of Caltagirone - known for its fabulous ceramic tiles and pottery. Stay tuned.

To see all of today's photos on my SmugMug site, just CLICK HERE.

Ciao ... e amore di Matteo

In Memoriam - My Cousin Mort

2010-03-15T22:28:00.022-04:00

Mar 15, 2010

My cousin's wife, Sallie, called yesterday. When I picked up the phone and heard her voice, I knew immediately the reason for the call. "Mort passed away last night, peacefully, in his sleep". I knew that that phone call was going to come sooner or later. Stacey and I, you might remember, took a Caribbean cruise a year ago last September. Sallie and Mort were cruise people - they loved it and they had asked us, for the longest time, to join them on one. We did and we had a fabulous and enjoyable trip with them. We talked about doing that again one day - but it was not to be.

When Mort returned home from that trip he developed a strange cough. The diagnosis was lung cancer. For a year-and-a-half he did battle with that cursed disease. But Saturday night it took him away from us - his loved ones. And ones who loved him in return.

Left to right - Stella, my dad's older sister, Morty (Mort), Dolf, his father and Stel's wife.

Mort was 77 years old. As a youngster of ten, I looked up to my handsome 23-year old cousin. He was one of two sons of my father's sister Stella. The Marks family lived in Miami but Mort lived for a while with my Grandma and Grandpa in Brooklyn, attending school. Later on he studied at the Naval Academy - the third member of my extended family to have done so. Even then, he was an off and on again visitor to Brooklyn and the family. So I knew him fairly well.

That early familiarity changed later on. Like many families - folks got married, had kids, moved far away and drifted apart. Fast forward from the 50s to the 90s - that's when we reestablished contact - it was when my dad, who Mort was very fond of, was sick and dying. He wanted to come and visit his Uncle Ben. We maintained our contact after that, becoming close friends, and Mort and then his wife, Sallie (whom we have come to love and who's friendship we cherish) were visitors to our house in Manhattan Beach and then in Prospect Heights. And we returned the visits to their house, outside Montgomery, Alabama. We also spent time at their beautiful Alabama lake house that they had such pride in. Then there was that fun and memorable Caribbean cruise and a final get together at their timeshare in the Poconos. The cancer, by that time, was taking its toll on him along with the chemotherapy and he tired easily. Though he didn't have the energy he was still, as ever, the generous, gracious and welcoming host.

At their time share in Orlando in advance of our cruise to the Caribbean. Click for larger view.

On the cruise - ready for dinner.

The four of us at the Poconos time share. It was two lovely days - but, sadly, the last time we spent time together.

We kept in touch by phone and I found it remarkable that he always sounded so calm. He knew that his time was coming and was, of course, distressed by that -hating that he would not be able to grow old with his family that he adored and who loved him. Yet he still talked about it very matter-of-factly and faced it with a quiet dignity and even optimism that he might yet just pull through. I often wondered, after hearing him, how I would fare contemplating the same enormous weight on me that Mort was facing. I believe it was a mark of his considerate manner and gentleness that he was able to be so peaceful when faced with the certainty of death.

One more observation should be made - he was able in large part, I think, to bear up under such a heavy load because he had his darling Sallie as his companion: a steady and unbending support to lean on. I don't know too many couples who were as loving and caring of each other as were Sallie and Mort.

I've been thinking about my cousin, more or less all day for the past day. I know that Sallie will have a terribly hard time saying goodbye and adjusting to life without Mort because I can feel, in some very small way compared to her, how he impacted my own life. He was a good, kind and decent man. I'm fortunate to have known him - not only as a little boy so many, many years ago - a distant memory now - but as an adult for the past 15 years when he was an important part of our lives.

This is a sad but fond farwell to my dear cousin and friend.

May you rest in peace knowing that you brought joy, good company and kindness to your family and friends.

======

Please CLICK HERE to see more photos of Mort and send any others you'd like me to post.

Send photos to nyccyclist@yahoo.com

A Car Trip To Virginia & Florida Escaping Frigid New York In January 2010

2010-01-17T23:05:00.004-05:00

Jan 18, 2010

Brrrr...this has been a frigid winter. But opportunity knocks - Dani's birthday in somewhat warmer southern Virignia - a chance to celebrate with her and Ethan (Erik's away) and then to head even further south to Florida for a visit with Rhonda and Jim and my Aunt Bea.

Here's a slideshow of photos from our trip. Give it a few seconds to load.

Enjoy. - Matt

You can email me.

On Being A Grandpa

2009-10-17T21:46:00.014-04:00

Oct 17, 2009.

Ethan's in the habit of saying, suddenly, and for no particular reason, this: "I love you Grandpa." The very next moment my heart melts. That's when you know that being a grandpa means you've entered a different period of your life. I look at my daughter - she was the baby once upon a time, many years ago. Here she is, with Erik, taking care of her own baby.

Ethan turned three today. How fast was that? It happened in a blink of the eye. Yet the differences in him from then till today are immense. Looking back at photos that span the three years, one can see the giant changes in my grandson that the day-to-day passage of time has otherwise blurred.

Ethan at birth - October 17, 2006.

>> Note - you can click on any photo to see it larger. <<

Ethan at eight months, June 25, 2007.

Ethan at his 1-year birthday party.

Ethan at two. October 15, 2008.

Even though Stacey just returned from Hampton - helping Dani with a crafts fair at which she was selling the bibs that she creates, (take a look at Dani's Bibs!), we had to return there for the big birthday celebration. So we loaded our car and drove south, stopping overnight to visit friends Ellen and Brian and Cousin Dotty in Arlington. The next morning, onwards to Hampton, three hours beyond.

It was cold in New York (we saw that we left 37 degrees weather behind). It wasn't much warmer down there - 40's and wet and windy. But seeing our little boy turning three kept out the cold and warmed our hearts. Stacey brought a brisket. Dani had made some chicken soup (delicious! she's taking after her mom when it comes to cooking). We feasted and got the house ready for the Saturday party. And in between, we took Ethan for his second movie (in a theater) -- Where The Wild Things Are. It was a bit too "old" for him. Regardless, he sat through the entire film, asking questions all the way.

Yes, Ethan is talking a blue storm - the chatter is non-stop but filled with brilliant and oftimes hysterical phrases. I'm guessing he's mimicking stuff he hears around the house from mom and dad but when it comes out of his mouth it's just delicious.

Last night, his very last pacifier dropped into the toilet. He cried and cried and insisted on retrieving it. Mama told him he didn't need it any longer; she'd been trying to wean him of it for months. "You're going to be three years old tomorrow. You're going to be a big boy - big boys don't need passies." But Ethan was having none of that - "I'm not a big boy. I'm a wittle boy", he insisted. The other adults (I guess I'm not one of those) often correct his mis-pronunciations. They're teaching him. Not I. I want to hear "wittle" for as long as possible - until he corrects it - I crave those darling Ethanisms! Another one that thrills me - when describing his soon to end only child status - "I'm going to be a big brover. I'm going to have a baby sister-brover." (the sex of the new arrival is still unknown).

I guess you'll say I've said this before -- being a grandpa is just about the greatest thing I can imagine being, doing or becoming. - at his birth; at his first and second birthdays; and now at three. Truth is, it gets better all the time - day by day, month by month and year by year. I look at my grandson and try to imagine him at five, ten and twenty years old ... and I kvell even without actually knowing what he will be like or how he'll turn out. It's just a thing that grandpas think and wonder about. It's part of being a grandpa.

Ethan at three, October 17, 2009.

If you'd like to see more photos from our trip ....
click here -- Album or Slide Show

A Beautiful Governor

2009-07-29T15:11:00.004-04:00

July 24, 2009

And by that I mean a beautiful island. Namely, Governors Island which sits, serenely, off the bottom tip of another island, Manhattan. An island so named, because when the Brits took over from the Dutch in 1674 (after a 10-year period of back-and-forth control), they did so for the “benefit and accommodation of His Majesty's Governors.” Never mind for the benefit of the original people who lived in the area - the Native Americans of Manahatas. The Dutch, efficient (and greedy) businessman that they were, had already purchased the island (which the Native Americans called Pagganck) for "two ax heads, a string of beads, and a handful of nails." It wasn't until 110 years later in 1784, however, that the island officially received its current name: Governors Island. Over the years, the isle served a mostly military purpose. Given its strategic location, forts were built that served to keep the British from even attempting to take New York during the War of 1812. If you're interested in more history than that you can go to the Island's website here.

Now for the real purpose of this post. Wow! This is a fabulous place! It's one of our city's new parks that will offer one a fantastic view and appreciation of our grand and magnificent harbor. Open Fridays and weekends form May 30th to October 11th , one can board a free ferry at the foot of Whitehall Street (just east of the Staten Island Ferry terminal ). You can board the ferry on foot or on bike but, happily, not by car. And you can rent a bike or a 4-wheeled bike-buggy on the island. On Fridays, bike rentals are even free but get there early as they go fast.

This place is a magical gem with a new and spectacular view at every turn in the road that one uses to circumnavigate the island. Here there are concerts, a sand "beach" (no swimming), free kayaks, art exhibits, cafes and food concessions and the most marvelous picnic locations, complete with sprawling lawns, lovely old shade trees, tables, benches and glorious hammocks! Then again, you can picnic in Nolan Park in the center of the island. A lovely oasis of towering London plane trees on each side of the center common are bordered with 19th century Victorian frame houses, used by the officers who inhabited this place once upon a time. Set up your picnic right on one of the porches and relax in the shade of the trees. If you want to avoid crazy crowds, you're probably better off on a Friday than a weekend.

Stacey and I started out on Friday morning. We mounted our bikes and headed for the Brooklyn Bridge, about three miles from our home in Prospect Heights. Though we've ridden over the bridge countless times, it's still a thrill. The views of lower Manhattan, the East River, the poetic structure of the bridge itself are always inspring.

(Note: You can click on any photo to see it larger). Stacey leads the way as we biked across the Brooklyn Bridge - awe-inspiring visit in its own right. Destination - Governors Island.

Biking the Brooklyn Bridge is a trip back to the late 1800's - a gargantuan stone structure that has stood the test of time. Just a few years later, the Williamsburg Bridge was constructed all of steel.

Midway across the bridge we stop to view our destination - that verdant island on the horizon in the middle of the harbor The large construction site just below is a future section of the miles-long Brooklyn Bridge Park that is being built along the East River.

We biked down Broadway and reached the ferry which is free and runs every hour on the hour (island bound).

"All 'board!"

"Are there sharks in the water? Can you ride a bike over there? Where are the bikes? What would happen if we fell in the water here?" And a hundred other questions.

A view off the port side of the ferry with a view up the East River to the Brooklyn, Manhattan and Williamsburg Bridges.

Leaving Manhattan behind.

When you finish the short ferry ride and exit the ferry, it feels a bit like you're immigrants, newly-arrived at Ellis Island. People pour off the boat, on foot and bike, and look around, puzzled about what to do and where to go. Maps are available and friendly staff are all about to answer your queries.

"OK, we're here. Now what?"

After a stop in the bathroom, Stacey and I set off to explore the island. A bike path beckoned to the left and off we went. This appeared to be the circumferential road. We wanted to make a loop - several miles around - to see the views it afforded. Then we'd check out a bit of the island's interior. The park is still a work in progress - much of it is off bounds as old Coast Guard buildings and facilities are renovated and made accessible to the public. But already the park incorporates a large expanse of recreational space including the 2.2 mile "Great Promenade" which we were setting off on our bikes.

A view across the harbor and up the East River. Benches and picnc spots abound on the Great Promenade that rings the island.

Say, that's cool! These 4-wheeled, 4-person bike buggies are for rent - free on Fridays - for those of you who don't know how to balance on two wheels.

You're in for a treat when you come around the southern tip of the island. (Remember to click any photo for a larger version).

As we continue around the island, an awesome view of Manhattan.

Stacey rounds the northwest corner of the island at Castle Williams which protected the city from British invasion in 1812.

We finished our ride with an brief exploration of the center of the island. Here we discovered more charm: Colonel's Row and Nolan's Park - both lined with 19th century officers' homes and the Parade Grounds, a vast expanse of lawn. There's also a public school that served the children of Coast Guard service personnel and a movie theater that was showing a scary summer thriller. All these are free for you to enter and explore.

Colonel's Row, in the center of the island, with tree-shaded walkways, beautiful old houses and plenty of room for picnics or exploring.

Whoa! A giant ship appears and docks across Buttermilk Channel in Brooklyn. The scale and scope of the harbor is enormous when viewed from this location.

We stopped at the Water Taxi sand beach (one of several throughout the city). This is equipped with, yes, sand and picnic tables. Adjacent is a hot dog stand where we stopped for a frank and a ice cold one before boarding the ferry back to Manhattan.

Nolan Park, surrounded by 19th century homes. One can sit on a porch and relax of have a picnic.

The Water Taxi sand "beach," with picnic tables, food concession and a palm tree.

It was a perfect few hours. The day had threatened rain with ominous clouds as we started out but, as seems to happen lately, had turned into a clear blue sky with puffy white clouds. We promised to return to explore some more. This is a great NYC destination that you should put on the top of your list for things to do and see in our city. See you on the bike path! - Matt

P.S. To see all my photos of Governors Island, click here for a SLIDE SHOW or here to visit the PHOTO GALLERY.

Why I March Today

2009-04-04T08:31:00.007-04:00

Apr 4, 2009

I'm marching today in New York City. I'm marching against the continued war in Iraq and against an escalated war in Afghanistan.

Here's why.

I celebrated (like most Americans) the election of our new President. And I breathed a huge sigh of relief at the end of our national nightmare - the bad dream that was the ugly and frightening reality of the Bush regime. I worked for that election. Stacey and I spent a day in Philadelphia to help determine, in some small way, the outcome in the swing state of Pennsylvania.

With the election of Barack Obama, Americans were saying that they had had enough! Enough of war. Enough of the racism that had divided our land for so long. Enough. They wanted to restore our country's image in the eyes of the world. They voted to turn it in a different direction than Bush and his gang had taken it. They wanted to, it seemed to me, begin directing our national treasure toward meeting the dire needs of our people: for universal health care, for a revitalized system of education, for affordable housing.

This election took place with the war and occupation of Iraq raging in the background. That was, perhaps, the single most important and glaring difference between the candidacies of Obama and McCain. Obama wanted to end that tragic and immoral episode in our nation's history not only because it was wrong but because it was robbing our country of any possible solution to the economic crisis that stalking the land. McCain, on the other hand, wanted to press on in Bush's "war on terror."

Brooklynites mark the death of the 3,000th U.S soldier and the countless Iraqis who died in that war. Today, the count is well over 4,0000 and the war continues.

Today, sadly, the war in Iraq is far from over. Though he promised to begin the withdrawal of U.S. troops from the day he was elected at the rate of one briagade per month,virtually none have returned home since inauguration. And even at the end of President Obama's planned withdrawal, 50,000 U.S. troops will remain in that country - rebranded as "advisers" by a Pentagon that insists on keeping a toehold in that oil-rich country.

Then there is Afghanistan. The so-called "good" war; the war that some insisted should have been fought in the first place after the attacks on the World Trade Center in New York. According to press reports, Mr. Obama, ignoring the advice of his Vice-President not to get involved in a morass that history has shown it to be, has sided with his generals who, stupidly and blindly, see a military solution to the deteriorating situation in that country and, beyond, to Pakistan.

This escalation in Afghanistan will be, in the prediction of many, a tragic mistake. It brings to mind the history of the Johnson administration which had made plans for a War On Poverty and a Great Society only to find them dashed on the rocks of the Vietnam war. The question raised then was whether we could have both "guns and butter. The answer that history supplied was an emphatic "NO."

There is no military solution to be imposed in Afghanistan. As Obama told us during the campaign, negotiation not endless war is the way forward. But if that's so, why allow the generals to send another 24,000 U.S. troops to a conflict that we are already losing? Sending more troops is a slippery slope that has a motive force and a driving logic all its own. And it's counter-productive: A recent BBC and ABC poll showed that 70% of Afghans are opposed to an increase in U.S. troops. Instead of overcoming our enemy, an escalation with its increase in misery and death for the beleaguered population will only serve to strenghten the Taliban and Al Queda by driving new recruits their way.

And these wars will continue to rob our country of the funds we need to solve the problems that are overwhelming us: increasing joblessness, lack of decent and affordable housing, a school sytem in dire need of resources and a health care system that is the disgrace of the industrialized world. Just as LBJ's Great Society foundered on the funding of the Vietnam War, so surely will Obama's grand and needed reforms collapse on the continuation of the Iraq and Afghanistan debacles.

Martin Luther King said it far more eloquently than I could ever write when he parted company in 1967 from the other civil rights leaders. In his famous "Beyond Vietnam" speech on April 4th of that year in New York's Riverside Church he said:

"Now, it should be incandescently clear that no one who has any concern for the integrity and life of America today can ignore the present war. If America's soul becomes totally poisoned, part of the autopsy must read Vietnam. It can never be saved so long as it destroys the deepest hopes of men the world over. So it is that those of us who are yet determined that America will be are led down the path of protest and dissent, working for the health of our land."

A nation that continues year after year to spend more money on military defense than on programs of social uplift is approaching spiritual death."

That is why I march today. I want to guarantee that the most progressive president this country has ever seen is successful in turning our country around and leading us to a new society that values its people more than its material things, or as Dr. King so profoundly said in 1967 "we need to rapidly begin the shift from a thing-oriented society to a person-oriented society."

If you're in New York, you can join the march by gathering on White Street (2 blocks south of Canal Street) between Broadway and Lafayette at 11 am. One of Dr. King's associates and a pioneer of our civil rights movement, Rev. James Lawson, will be walking with us. I suspect that Dr. King would have been marchng for peace today as well.

Groundhog Day, 2009

2009-02-02T18:09:00.042-05:00

Feb 2, 2009

Winter took a break today with temperatures finally climbing to the low 50's. But the bucktoothed rodent in Punxatauney, Pennsylvania reportedly saw his shadow as he crawled out of his burrow, meaning we're in for six more weeks of winter. Never mind, I hopped on my bike to enjoy the respite from the frigid cold as well as to see if I could find any hints of spring in nearby Prospect Park.

It was a beautiful day but the park flora was still sound asleep. I thought I might find some crocus shoots poking their heads above ground, but a frozen pond, some unmelted snow and lots of wet meadow and mud were all I could see. As for animal life, there were plenty of us humans who, like me, were out to enjoy the warmth and a remarkable scene on the pond -- thousands of birds sunning themselves on its frozen surface.

Prospect Park Pond - frozen on February 2nd. Home to thousands of birds.

Goose, Goose, Gull ... and many more on the frozen pond in Prospect Park.

Canadian Honking Geese - gingerly step out onto the ice of Prospect Park Pond.

Oh my! It's a goose parade.

Early signs of spring? Not really - I searched throughout the Park on a 53 degree February 2nd, but to no avail: not one solitary shoot has appeared. Perhaps another week or so. But in our very own front yard bulb shoots have been coming up since December ... probably due not to forthcoming spring but rather to not having been buried deeply enough when planted last fall.

Bulb shoots in our front yard - but a sign of spring? Not.

Meet The Candidate - Finley Ray Clark

2008-11-03T17:34:00.004-05:00

Nov 2, 2008

Yesterday was the NYC Marathon. Yessir! Forty Thousand runners dashing through the streets of New York. Coincidentally, it was also the day that the Clark family, Chiara and Tom, came into town from Boston with their adorable new baby, Finley Ray Clark. Problem was - how to get from here (the Republic of Brooklyn) to there ("the City", a k a Manhattan). Driving was out of the question as the uncrossable path of the marathon cut a swath clear across our borough, preventing access to any of the East River crossings. So we'll take the subway. No big deal. Um, wrong. Very big deal. Lori (grandmother of the new baby and mother of Chiara) told Stacey (wife of the Blogster) to take the Lexington Avenue line but to get off at 59th Street. This would allow us to take the 31 bus eastbound on 57th Street and up York Avenue to their house on 86th Street on the east side of First Avenue. The runners would be coming across the River from Queens at 58th and then heading uptown until 125th street thus making 57th the lowest street on which one would be able to navigate east all the way past First Avenue. I protested what I thought was surely a hair-brained idea.:Take the train only to 59th Street and then a bus? I'm sure we'll be able to cross First Avenue at 86th. That's Mile 18 and by that time the runners should be thinned out giving us a chance to make a dash across the avenue. Right?

Wrong! We took the Lex to 86th Street and, right away, it didn't look good. Hoards of spectators got off the train with us and headed over to First Avenue. When we arrived there the crowds were 10 deep at the curb and kept from crossing the street by hundreds of cops and interlocking barriers. The runners, never mind, were streaming up First by the hundreds and hundreds with nary a break for a humble resident (or party-goer) to get across. Oy. We stood, along with spectators and others (those, like us, who simply wanted to cross First Avenue) for a while. Making conversation with other stranded ones, one nice woman told us she'd been trying to cross for an hour, to no avail. Likewise, a young woman (with no coat on and it was cold!) who had just gone out for a cup of coffee and couldn't return. The four of us decided to do what Stacey and I should have done in the first place - get back to 57th Street and take that bus to deliver us to the east side of First Avenue and Peter and Lori's apartment house (which was staring us in the face just a few yards away - so close, yet so far!

To make a long story short - we boarded the Second Avenue bus (no charge - thanks Marathon!) and took it south from 86th street to 57th Street. As we crossed Second Avenue, after deboarding the bus, I spied the much-needed 31 Bus in the bus stop. We ran ... and missed it as it pulled out heading toward York Avenue! It would be half an hour until another arrived. Guess what? No taxis either - every single one of the hundreds passing us was occupied or off duty. It was cold and windy and I wasn't dressed properly (who woulda guessed I'd be standing outside for an hour or so). Neither was the young woman who accompanied us so Stacey offered her a scarf (at least). Finally, finally - an available taxi. "No, I won't go uptown - it's a mess up there!" Aarrgh! This is going from worse to worst! At that moment, however, and thankfully, the next 31 Bus pulled up and on we got. it was now close to 1:30 and we were an hour and half late for the party. But we had met some nice people that we shared the time (and adversity) with. I handed out some extra Obama buttons that were a big hit with our fellow travellers and we finally reached our destination.

Oh yes the party. And Finley! Well, it was worth the travail. We greeted the family and old friends, ate from Lori's wonderful spread - We had developed quite an appetite. And took some photos which I'd like to share with you. Just CLICK the photo below for a slide show of the day's events. - Matt

Meet Finley Clark - a beautiful baby girl. And her mother, Chiara.

My Grandson Turns Two - Already?

2008-10-15T13:29:00.018-04:00

Oct 15, 2008

Groucho once said, and how true it is, "time flies like an arrow. ... and fruit flies like a banana." My grandson Ethan is turning two on October 17th and we wanted to be witness. So we loaded up the van and drove the nine hours to Hampton, Virginia to visit that sweet little boy and his family (Dani and Erik, the parents). Stacey and I constantly bemoan the fact that they're not closer and, thereby, more accessible. On the other hand, we like road trips and gas is so cheap nowadays (down to $2.79 in parts of Maryland - just in time for the election, huh?)

We talk to Ethan on a Skype-like program (that goes by the name of Oovoo). We can see him and hear him on our computer. But that's a poor substitute for holding him, talking to him face to face and observing the enormous changes that accompany his growth from infant into toddler and little mensch. Words have become sentences sentences become more complex. You can watch the wheels turning inside the head as he makes sense of the world around him ... it's a joy to watch. Being away from him for such a long time each time has its downside - we miss him too much. But it has its advantages becasuse the absence gives us a good sense and appreciation of the large changes in him that might not be nearly so clear on a day-to-day basis.

So here are some photos of Ethan as he turns two. Consider this as one of occasional progress reports that I'm intent on sharing with you. I know that grandparents going on about their grandchildren can get boring but for those of you already there, you can appreciate the kvelling. For those who have not reached that stage of life, please just enjoy the pictures of a delicious little boy. - Matt

Ethan on the cusp of two years old.

Ethan - a lot of bounce in his step. When he wants to do something on his own he let's it be known: "Ethan dood it." In front of his house in Hampton, VA.

At the library this morning with his play group.

My grandson, Ethan, one day short of his 2nd birthday.

Shopping at the base exchange, mirror in hand.

Ethan and a mirror to occupy him while Mommy shops at the Lancome booth.

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October 17, 2008 --

We kept busy the few days we were here. But the "business" had to revolve around Ethan's schedule - lunch around noon, an afternoon nap, dinner when Daddy comes home. In between, we made visits to the Naval base Exchange for various sundries. We accompanied the child to his reading group at a lovely local library a block or two away. And on Friday we drove to nearby Newport News to see the Virginia Living Museum - an astounding place where kids (and us kids too) can commune with, and learn about, nature.

On Friday night, when Erik came home, we celebrated Ethan's second birthday - presents were opened and chocolate cake (yes, Stacey's famous chocolate cake) savored. Tomorrow, we would be driving back to Brooklyn. The visit, though short, was memorable. I have a feeling we'll be missing our little grandson the moment we drive down the block on our way back home.

Ethan - he's two years old today!

Ethan plays the xylophone at the Viriginia Living Museum.

See the turtle?

At the Living Museum in Newport News, Virginia.

A mommy and her two-year old son.

Signs of the times ... in Virginia. Click the picture to see it larger ...then hit back to return.

Here comes Bamba with her homemade birthday cake - just for Ethan at 2 years old!

Blow out the candle beautiful boy. Happy birthday.

Click for a gallery view of all my photos from this trip.

Click for a slide show of all my photos from this trip.

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Aunt Bea Comes To Visit - Saturday and Sunday, October 4th and 5th

2008-10-06T19:31:00.028-04:00

Monday Oct 6, 2008

We took my aunt to the airport today. She'd spent nine days with us and we hoped we hadn't exhausted her. Well, too much anyway. We did want to keep her busy so she couldn't find too much time to think about the recent loss of Walter, her husband of 71 years. As I've written before, Bea is utterly remarkable for a 93-year old woman. She kept complaining that I was treating her like an invalid, holding her arm when she crossed the street or hopped off a curb. I just couldn't get use to how able and energetic she is! Each day we did a little something - shopping, theater, touring. And this last weekend of her visit to New York was no different. On Saturday, we drove out to the Long Island section of the Weinstein family: Marlo and Malte and their family live a lovely house in Islip on the south shore of Long Island. Jessica and Ed and their family just moved into a beautiful new home, nearby, in Bay Shore. And Lee and Alexis - well they live in between (so they can babysit in either direction).

We were invited to lunch at Marlo's. Joining us would be Kris and Mirjam and Jona. They took the Long Island Railroad out to Islip and Lex picked them up at the station. In our car were Bea's son, my cousin Peter, who arrived from Detroit the night before and his mom and Stacey and me. We arrived around twelve and Marlo was setting out the food - some lovely salads and quiches.

Stacey, Peter and Bea - on our way out to Long Island.

Jona meets her cousin Olivia.

Olivia and Luke.

Hi Marlo!

Lee and his Aunt Bea. Today was also Lee's 66th birthday.

Omigod! Kris, Luke and Olivia doing the trampoline thing.

Marlo and Jona, watching action on the trampoline.

Mirjam and Stacey - just chatting.

Peter and his cousin Lee.

And here's Peter and his mom.

Happy birthday Lee! Olivia helps the older man blow out his candles.

After Marlo's we drove over to Jessica and Ed's house to visit and see their new home. Their delicious daughter Jordan welcomed us and gave Grampy Lee his homemade drawing. Ben, their son, was sleeping but soon awoke from his nap and made himself well know to his guests - new family members he'd never met before. A new Mosher is on the way as well - Jessie is pregnant and is due in December. (The third Weinstein daughter, Corey, is expecting her first - a boy - in November).

We visited Jessica and Ed's new home in Bay Shore. Another Mosher is on the way ... scheduled for December. Jessie and her mom, Alexis, having a "heart-to-heart."

Aunt Stacey feels the baby kicking.

Mirjam does the hula thing on Jess and Ed's deck.

And this is my great grand niece, Jordan.

Ben got tatoos. Yeah, man!

To see ALL of today's photos just click here to go to my GALLERY on Smugmug.

To see a SLIDESHOW of today's photos just click here .

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After visiting the Moshers, we drove to Lee and Alexi's house - Bea and Peter had not ever seen it. Time was getting late so instead of heading home for a late dinner, we ate at a local Chinese restaurant (it was good!)and then took the hour-ride back to Brooklyln. A wonderful family day out on the Island.

On Bea's last day in New York, Sunday, we strolled around the Atlantic Antic. This is one of the city's largest street fairs. It attracts tens of thousands of people and the magic diversity that is Brooklyn is on full display. Less homogenized than your typical New York street fair, it has a wonderful mix of local vendors, restaurants and community organizations (including my peace group - Brooklyn For Peace.

We had a great time exploring the various booths and then sat down in front of La Mancha, a Spanish restaurant on Atlantic Avenue, for fresh grilled sardines and paella, washed down with a pitcher of sangria. Yum! After, we drove my cousin Peter to the airport for his return flight to Detroit.

Hungry for change?

Stacey and Bea peruse a vintage tchotchkes table.

Grilled sardinas at La Mancha restaurant.

Bea's visit had come to an end. The next day, Monday, we rose early and drove her to LaGuardia Airport - a trip of 25 minutes. Again, her energy and independence amazed and thrilled us. I just can't imagine too many 93-year olds flying back and forth, here and there, unaccompanied and on their own. It had a been a wonderful visit. How many times had Stacey and I been guests at the Schaffer home in Deefield Beach. It was a privilege to return a tiny percentage of that hospitality to my Aunt Bea, my mother's sister. We're going to see her again, in November. Her grandson Sloan (Peter's son) is getting married in Miami and we'll all be there for that happy event. But we're also hoping Bea will return next year when it gets too hot in Florida or when hurricanes are stirring down there. She'll always have a room waiting for her in Brooklyn.

View ALL of Sunday's photos as a GALLERY - CLICK HERE

View a SLIDESHOW of today's photos - CLICK HERE.

Aunt Bea Comes To Visit - Thursday, October 2

2008-10-05T21:21:00.012-04:00

October 2, 2008

We'd been running around every day - Fairway, Ikea, Prospect Park, Times Square. Today we stayed home. And some family came to visit. Bea's father, Sol Kaplan (my mother's father as well)had a brother Laser. He and his wife Sophie had a large progeny; so many so that I can't even name them all. (Ellen, please fill us in using the comment form below. Thanks!) These were Bea's first cousins. At some point there was a falling out between the two brothers and a break between the families. That's why I didn't really know that side of the family until much later on. Harriette Schleiffer was one of the Kaplan girls, daughter of Laser and Sophie and Bea's first cousin. So it was quite a wonderful thing to see a reunion of sorts at lunch at our house as Harriette and Ellen, her daughter, came to visit.

My nephew Kris and his wife Mirjam came over as well. With them was their precious little baby, Jona, their daughter of 18 months. They live in Hamburg, Germany but had been in the States for the past few weeks visiting Duba in Pittsburgh and at her country house in Ohio. Making their way back to New York (and this coming Monday, to Germany) afforded a perfect opportunity for a visit.

Stacey prepared a wonderful lunch and old times and new ones were the subject of lively conversation.

Cousin Harriette holds the newest addition to the family - Jona. Jona's dad, Kris Weinstein-Storey looks on.

Here's Kris. Nice smile, no?

Two first cousins, reunited after many years: Harriette Schleiffer and Bea Schaffer. (both nee Kaplan).

In the kitchen - Stacey and Ellen.

The table is set. Lunch is served. Thank you Stacey!

Three cousins - Bea and Harriette and Ellen.

In my next, and (sigh) last post - a fabulous family gathering out on Long Island with the other third of the Weinstein family: we have lunch at Marlo's and Chris, Mirjam, Jona, Luke and Olivia, Stacey, Lee and Alexis and Bea have a grand old time. After, we drive of to Jessica and Ed's to meet that family. Be sure not to miss it!

To see ALL of this post's photos in gallery form, just CLICK HERE.

To view it as a slidehow, just CLICK HERE.

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Bea Comes To Visit - Wednesday

2008-10-03T20:35:00.007-04:00

October 1, 2008

Stacey and I wanted to be respectful of Bea's age and not load her days in New York with excessive activity. This care proved to be unwarranted though. Sitting around the table later in the week, we reviewed our activities for the entire week, day by day and we all couldn't believe how much we had done.

Wednesday was no different. We had purchased tickets for a matinee: Gypsy which was playing at the St. James Theater on 44th Street. . It was nice weather but rain was predicted for evening. Instead of walking the two blocks to the subway, I drove and lucked out - I was able to park directly across the street from the Q train station. In a few minutes the train arrived and less than 25 minutes later we took an escalator to frenetic Times Square.

On our way to the theater, we take the Q train to Times Square.

On the Q, bound for Manhattan.

We find a seat and Eleanor, Stacey's former co-worker (and fellow retiree).

The sight that greeted Bea as we exited the subway at Times Square - big changes since she last saw it decades ago.

Making their way through the maddening crowds.

On line at the St. James theater.

Gypsy was wonderful. A real throwback to the great musicals of the 40s and 50s. It's said that Patty LuPone is one of the few contemporary actors who can come close to the belting and boisterous presentation of the late, great Ethel Merman. I thought that was a bit overreaching but, nevertheless, her performance was stellar and the production very entertaining. The songs were great old melodies and wonderfully familiar. Bea enjoyed the show and we talked about it all the way home and days later.

In the mezzanine, perusing the Playbill.

Exiting the theater, Times Square was coming to life and to light.

42nd Street - old and new.

We headed home and as predicted, when we exited the station it was beginning to rain. We jumped in the car and drove the few blocks home - a very satisfying visit to the Big Apple.

At Times Square station - heading home.

To see these photos as a slideshow, CLICK HERE.

Aunt Bea Comes To Visit - Tuesday

2008-10-02T09:03:00.009-04:00

September 30, 2008

On Tuesday, we decided to visit the old neighborhood that was a large part of the Schaffer family history: Manhattan Beach. We made a date with my Aunt Sissy, who lives in adjacent Brighton Beach and drove down to have lunch in a little Russian cafe in Sheepshead Bay - The Coffee Spot Cafe. Stacey picked that place because they serve the most delicious blintzes. We knew Sissy like that and Bea approved as well.

Three beautiful women: Stacey, Sissy and Bea.

Lunch at the Coffee Spot Cafe.

Yum! Blintzes!

After lunch, we took a car tour of Manhattan Beach, stopping first at West End Avenue. My famiy lived on that street and so did the Schaffers, just a block away. Bea marvelled at the changes that had occurred since she and her family moved to Baltimore in 1960. As everywhere else in Booklyn, four and six story, and often much higher apartment houses have appeared where once little houses lined a street. These new buildings all have the requsite marketing appellation Luxury Condos applied to them. Apparently, there are no other kind of condos except luxurious ones. But what they do to a neighborhood is quite another unluxurious story and it seems that there is no control, foresight or planning that goes into the widespread construction of these domiciles. The politicians, well shmeared, look the other way as once peaceful, quiet and low-rise neighborhoods are transformed, with total disregard for their original qualities, into out-of-context, congested bastions of condo dwellers. The only ones who make out in this kind of deal are the well-connected developers who are given total freedom to build whatever and wherever they please.

The old Weinstein house at 220 West End Avenue - overgrown and untouched since it was sold in 2003.

During our tour we stopped at the home of Bea's old friend (and our as well), Anne Yellin. Anne didn't recognize Bea after an absence of many decades but she realized who she was she embraced her with all her might. We chatted for a while and then drove to Brighton to visit Sissy's old house on Brighton 3rd Path. Brighton has been particularly hard hit by the condo construction blitz and, as a result, the once-quaint and eccentric beach feel of that neighborhood with its small bungalows and warren of "courts, paths and walks" is rapidly disappearing. At the same time, the homes that still stand are deteriorating for lack of care and maintenance as developers pressure residents to sell. "For Sale" signs are everywhere and the neighborhood looks rundown and unkempt.

An old and dear friend, Anne Yellin, and Bea recollect the good old days.

Sissy remembers family life at her old house in Brighton Beach.

We returned home in time to get Bea to our doctor in Park Slope. She had to have some stitches removed from a minor surgery she had undergone in Florida. Another interesting and lovely day in Brooklyn, New York.

To see all of today's photos in gallery form, just CLICK HERE.

To see all of today's photos as a slide show, just CLICK HERE.

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Aunt Bea Comes To Visit - Day 3

2008-10-01T09:00:00.010-04:00

Sep 29, 2008

Bea was getting used to our house and the neighborhood. On a beautiful Autumn morning we decided to take a little stroll to nearby Prospect Park. One approaches the park through Grand Army Plaza. New York is not know for grand and open spaces. Brooklyn's Grand Army Plaza is one of very few of those spces that define other great cities such as Paris. It's central attraction is the magnificent Soldiers And Sailors Memorial Arch, dedicated to the veterans of the Civil War. In its center is a the gracious Neptune fountain. Olmstead and Vaux designed Eastern Parkway which departs from the Plaza and Brooklyn's Central Library sits adjacent. And, of course, the northern entrance to Prospect Park beckons as you stroll through the plaza.

With all its beauty, however, it has been a remote and seldom-used gathering point for New Yorkers. Automobile traffic, almost non-existent when it was built, has emasculated it, surrounding it with an inpenetrable and hazardous barrier. That is all about to change as a consortium of public interest groups and city agencies have put their heads together to come up with a new design that will promote pedestrian and cycling access and encourage the public to enjoy the beauty of this majestic plaza.

Our walk takes us to Grand Army Plaza, one of NYC's few grand spaces. It's currently the subject of major renovation to make it more useable and accessible to pedestrians and cyclists. For years it has been underused since it's surrounded by a horrific torrent of car traffic.

Stacey checks out a proposal for redesigning the plaza. Each display shows a planner's ideas for re-inventing the space and making it more accessible to the public.

Stacey and Bea stroll through the various designs for renovation of the plaza.

After walking through the plaza we entered Prospect Park and sat for a while looking out at serene Long Meadow which, as its name suggests, is a lovely and popular field that attracts hundreds of people on a summer weekend. Now, on an early Autumn morning, it was quite empty. It's green lawn ran south, off into the distance.

Bea was impressed by the Soldier's and Sailor's Memorial Arch that is the anchor of Grand Army Plaza. The arch commemorates the fallen soldiers of the Civil War.

Enjoying the beauty of Prospect Park's Long Meadow ... and resting a bit.

On our way back we stopped at our usual haunt, Prospect Perk coffee shop to give Bea a flavor of our routine. Then back home for a rest. We would head back out again, this time by car, to visit Fairway market in Red Hook. We wanted to show Bea what's happening in these previously rundown neighborhoords as our borough reinvents itself with younger (and more prosperous) folks move in.

At our usual hangout: Prospect Perk on Flatbush Avenue.

We arrive at Fairway, an upscale gourmet supermarket, which has installed itself in renovated Civil War era warehouses, attracts customers from all over despite its remote location.

To see all of today's photos in a gallery , just CLICK HERE.

To see all of today's photos in a slide show, just CLICK HERE.

Aunt Bea Comes To Visit - Sunday, Day 2

2008-09-28T18:27:00.016-04:00

Sep 28, 2008

It was supposed to rain all day today. But mostly we got clouds and a bit of drizzle. After a Sunday morning feast of bagels, lox and white fish, we hung out for a few hours and then headed out to Dumbo, Brooklyn's uber-hip, industrial chic neighborhood. We wanted to peruse the 12th annual Art Under The Bridge festival which was spread throughout the galleries that are emblematic of that neighborhood. Amazingly, we found a parking spot smack in the middle of the action and toured some galleries in one of the old warehouse buildings now converted to offices and galleries.

Bea takes a call from son Peter as we prepare the table for our Sunday breakfast.

Waiting for the lox, the bagels, the fish, the ....

On our way to Dumbo, Stacey and Bea pose for my camera.

We walked in and out of a few of the galleries - mostly out. A lot of the work was so avant that we were left figuratively far below the 9th floor that we were on. One gallery, however, caught our attention: Havana, The Revolutionary Moment (La Habana - El Momento Revolucianario) displayed striking photos taken by an American photographer,Burt Glinn, who found himself in the Cuban capitol as a young Fidel and his comrades took power from the dictator Batista who had fled the island. The sense of excitement on the faces of common people in the streets of that city fairly jumped from the pictures and transported this viewer to that moment in time. Exhilarating!

Bea and Stacey examine Burt Glinn's book of photos taken during the Cuban revolution at the Umbrage gallery in Dumbo.

After perusing some other galleries, we walked over to Brooklyn Bridge Park and a view of the Manhattan Skyline set off with the Brooklyn and Manhattan Bridges. A farmers market was set up on the old cobblestone streets. A cup of coffee at Starbucks finished our excursion and we drove back home for a home-cooked meal that Stacey prepared. A very nice day in Brooklyn filled with bagels, art and good company.

To see all of today's photos visit my gallery on Smugmug: CLICK HERE.

To see all of today's photos as a slideshow, CLICK HERE.

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Aunt Bea Comes To Visit - Arrival, Day I

2008-09-28T07:57:00.008-04:00

Sep 28, 2008

After years of visiting the Schaffers in Deerfield Beach, Florida, my Aunt Bea finally has come to visit us in New York. And we are thrilled. Her darling Walter, her partner for nearly 71 years had passed away in May, just three days short of that anniversary. Stacey and I visited in June to offer our condolences but also to help boost her morale. We suggested at the time, never believing she would actually take us up on it, that she should come to New York for a while, leaving the Florida house and all its memories behind. We returned to New York and after a few more entreaties to come visit, she decided she would. And so now she's here!

Bea is my mom's sister and the last of her nuclear Kaplan family. She's a very young 93. My friend Wendy, our waitress at Sammy's Noodle Shop in Greenwich Village, which we lunched at after Bea's arrival at Penn Station on Saturday, remarked that she looked younger than her own mother who is 72.

Bea's son and daughter-in-law, Ken and Yong Hee, put Bea on an Amtrak train Saturday morning bound for New York. We met her and had lunch and then, on the way back to Brooklyn, stopped at Henry Street for a quick look at Bea's childhood home on the Lower East Side. She and her family arrived there when Bea was only two and departed when she was five so her memory of that place was fuzzy. My mother had remembered it with much more detail being four-and-a-half years Bea's elder. They lived in a townhouse that also housed a doctor's office. Next door was Lillian Wald's house, the founder of the Henry Street Settlement. Wald was one of those great early 20th century social reformers. Her organization offered succor and advice to struggling immigrants who, crowded into the Lower East Side's awful tenements, were the poorest of New York's poor. Down the block was a firehouse. The Kaplan girls and their friends on the block, my mother told me, each had a fireman who was their special "boyfriend."

At Sammy's Noole Shop in the Village, Stacey and Bea get ready to order lunch. (more photos - see link at end)

Arriving home we showed Bea around our brownstone, parked her in her own guest room, sat around and chatted for hours and then had dinner at Amorina, our little pizzeria around the corner on Vanderbilt Avenue. It was alive and crowded with the young families of our new neighborhood. Albano, the owner and our friend, stopped by the table and we chatted, picking apart last night's presidential debate and expressing distress over the McCain/Pailin ticket.

At home again we watched some old Sid Caesar Show of Shows on a DVD until Bea's eyes closed from tiredness. It had been a long day but a sweet one. We were very happy to have my aunt here in Brooklyn.

For a gallery of today's photos, just CLICK HERE.

For a slideshow of today's photos, just CLICK HERE.

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Where In The World Is Matt Lauer, er Weinstein? PART IV

2008-09-22T18:12:00.046-04:00

After a day of touring St. Thomas we headed back to the ship. It was raining again and we hopped in a cab for the mile or so back to the ship. We were in time for our 6 o'clock dinner and then strolled out on deck as the ship pulled away from St. Thomas. We'd arrive in our next, and final, port call - St. Maarten (aka St. Martin).

Meeting up on deck after dinner. Our ship was pulling away from St. Thomas for an overnight trip to St. Maarten, the Netherland Antilles.

A last look back at the harbor in Charlotte Amalie, St. Thomas as our ship heads for St. Maarten, an overnight trip.

A large and lovely theater, beautifully decorated with an art deco feel, was the backdrop for two evening shows every day. The show on the second night featured an Austrailian, turned American, trumpeter/dancer/singer who was quite talented. But for his last number he departed from his repetoire of Broadway shmaltz and jazz standards to perform a number he had written and that he was promoting - this turned out to be a "non-political" (not quite), brassy, bombastic and shocking phony patriotic appeal to "stand up for freedom." He demanded that folks in the audience support the troops and the veterans by "standing up for freedom." "C'mon! Turn up the house lights - let's see you stand up for freedom", he bellowed over and over. Stand up for freedom? Never mind, that over the past five years more and more Americans have soured to the Bush Iraq fiasco - a war he touted as fighting for freedom and justified by lying to Congress and the American people. A war that has tragically brought a premature and unnecessary end to more than 4,000 American lives and up to a million Iraqi lives. Never mind that Bush, while claiming to support the troops has slashed benefits for veterans so that we now can use a shameful, oxymoronic phrase that should have no place in our lexicon - "homeless veteran." Never mind that 8 years of Bush-O-Nomics with its greed-based tax cuts for the super-rich, no-bid contracts for the likes of Cheney's Haliburton, almost a trillion dollars squandered on an immoral war while profits for for Exxon and the other oil companies have skyrocketed - never mind that these policies have brought us to the precipic of the next Great Depression. Never mind that 7,000 Americans are losing their homes each and every day and that unemployment is growing so rapidly. Never mind that a great American city was left by our government to twist in the wind after it was inundated by Katrina. No, no, no - never mind all that - just you all stand up for freedom, OK? Stacey and I were angered by this pretentious appeal to people's genuine love of country so we just kept sitting while most all followed the pied piper and stood up. The pressure to stand was palpable. It's not easy to stick out by sitting down.

Dr. Samuel Johnson, the famous British author said in 1775: "Patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel." By this he was not casting aspersion on a real and genuine love of country, but the phony patriotism which so many, in all ages and countries, have made a cloak of while promoting their own narrow self-interest. As Clarence Darrow, the great American lawyer said, "true patriotism hates injustice in its own land more than anywhere else." And Carl Shurz, German-born American general and U.S. Senator defined true patriotism thusly: "Our country right or wrong. When right, to be kept right; when wrong, to be put right." Certainly, there are so many wrongs in our great country today that urgently call out to us. Tuesday's night singer had it all wrong. Our country desperately needs its citizens to stand up, yes! But to stand and vocally speak out against their government when they see it committing so much injustice. To be silent, to go along, to meekly stand up and conform rather than speaking out in protest will lead us all to a tragic conclusion. Dissent protects democracy. Silence will surely allow it to be destroyed.

The other night's shows were better. Wednesday night we saw an ice show. Yes, an ice show! I couldn't believe it - this ship had an ice skating rink! And a wonderful international team of skaters put on a fabulous circus with skills that matched the great performances of the Olympics. Depsite the fact that the space was 1/8 the size of a standard rink, the skaters whirled about with incredible skill and agility. The highlight for me was an act of costumed Cossacks skating to Russian folk songs in full costume. A knockout!

Cossack skaters danced on ice to fabulous Russian folk songs. Fantastic!

Clowns on ice delighted the kids on board.

After the ice show we ventured up to Ellington's on the 14th deck for some cool jazz and a nightcap. Stacey peruses the bar menu.

When we woke on Thursday, we were in St. Martin. That island has dual personalites: the pecuniary Dutch side and the sexy/chic French side. But because of our short stay - we had to be back on board by 4:30 - we really didn't get to explore beyond Phillipsburg on the Dutch side where the ship docked. And that was a shame as there was nothing to do in that town but to visit a long, long street of shops. Not my cup of tea. Regardless, Stacey, Sallie, Mort and I boarded a ferry that took us downtown where we walked up and around. While Sallie and Stacey looked around some shops, we guys hung outside. After an hour or so of that we took the ferry back.

Mort and Stacey enjoy a light moment on the water taxi to downtown Phillipsburg, St. Maarten.

Matt and Sallie on the ferry to Phillipsburg. I finally get a picture taken of me.

Mort sits patiently while the women peruse the shops.

At a crafts market in Phillipsburg.

Pretty dolls all in a row.

A Cuban license plate in a Phillipsburg shop. No embargo down here.

Em, let me try this one on please.

Shoes, anyone?

We ventured back to the boat after a few hours, changed into suits and lazed around the pool until it was time to get dressed for dinner. Hours pass slowly and it's very relaxing.

The next two days, Friday and Saturday would be days at sea. I enjoyed those days most of all. One could hang out and do nothing or one could partake of the endless number of activities that were listed on the daily schedule printed by the ship's staff. There were art auctions, a Q and A with the captain, movies, gambling, rock climbing, ice skating, mini-golf, roller skating, swimming and hot-tubbing. Or just plain lazing around in any number of locations spread across the 14 decks. I found it very relaxing and, in the end, that's the beauty of a cruise - bring some books, lay back, breathe in the delicious ocean air and take it realy easy.

My legs and Stacey - hanging out at the pool.

A book is the way I will spend my day.

Reading a good book with the endless sea as your backdrop. Not bad.

Bored? Go for a walk on the jogging track on level 12.

Organized activites make the time pass. The crowd gathers for the belly flop contest. It was quite entertaining and the MC's comic jibes were quite amusing.

According to the MC, this guy was using a "butt pucker" technique which lowered his point score.

This guy seems to have the right attributes for a great belly flop.

On our last day, also a at-sea day, Stacey decided she wanted to try the rock climbing wall on deck 14 aft. Man, this ship was well equipped! It was blazing hot under the direct rays of the Caribbean sun. I tried to find some shade to hang out in as the staff prepared the climbing ropes and the athletes donned their shoes. I have to hand it to Stacey - she really tried and didn't give up until she just couldn't go any further. Each time she went a bit further, then would hesitate and come rapelling down. She finally made it about half way up to the top and then could go no more - she had no more strength left. She admitted that she couldn't imagine, up front, how difficult it was to pull oneself straight up.

Ready to rock and roll. Well, climb anyway.

"This is how you do it." Stacey gets some tips from the instructor.

And she's off, er, up!

And she's down!

Try again. This is not easy.

Good try, Stace! Next time you'll make it.

We had a wonderful week of relaxation, fun times and new friends. Our travel mates, Sallie and Mort were perfect and gave us the space we needed for alone time, yet were always there for the good company they provided. Our new friends and tablemates, the Edmonds, were fun and shared a lot of our values which endeared them to us. Their little girl, Meaghan, was charming, smart and well behaved. Our table really clicked and that doesn't always happen.

The week went very fast filled with activity, shopping, eating, drinking, touring, workouts and lots of R and R. Who could ask for anything more?

At our last dinner, the wait staff performed a farewell song. We were very impressed with the excellent service of the entire crew of 1200.

Our great waiters, Ashok (from India) and Juan (from Honduras).

Meaghan performs the hang-a-spoon-from-your-nose trick that Stacey taught her. How 'bout those dimples? See you again soon, we hope!

We were up very early Sunday morning, having packed our bags and left them outside our door the night before. When we woke, the Florida coast was visible outside our window. By seven o'clock we were walking off the ship and through customs. Our cruise had come to an end. We met Sallie and Mort and they drove us back to their timeshare in Orlando and then to the aiport for our flight back to NYC where we arrived around seven. While we loved the trip, we still favor travel that takes us to foreign lands and cities with culture and history to examine. But every once in a while, a cruise out on the open sea with warm temperatures and the smell of pure salt air is just the ticket to pass a stress-free week away from the worries and cares of these difficult times. Try it. You'll like it.

Stacey takes a last look at Mariner Of The Seas as we head to our car after deboarding at Port Canaveral.

Where In The World Is Matt Lauer, er Weinstein? PART III

2008-09-20T15:46:00.011-04:00

By the way, did you know you can CLICK on any photo for an enlarged view. Then just hit "back" to return to the blog. - Matt

We left the Bahamas Monday night and sailed for St. Thomas, United States Virgin Islands. Tuesday would be a sea day. We’d arrive at our next port on Wednesday morning. On Tuesday, I woke very early and watched the sun rise and the moon set over the vast ocean. Words and pictures don’t do justice to the magnificence of the sea stretched out to the distant horizon. It’s hard to believe that as big as it is, humans have still managed to pollute it with waste and chemicals and kill off its life in increasingly perilous numbers. It just confirmed to me that our planet is indeed finite and needs to be protected with urgent action taken right now!

The ship’s decks were empty as I strolled about and watched as an imperceptible glimmer of light appeared. A few minutes later more light appeared, gently lighting the clouds. Very soon the water began to take on different shades of blue and green as the sun slowly rose above the horizon. I would glance the other way to look at the setting moon and in just those few brief seconds, as I retuned my gaze to the rising sun, an entirely new panorma greeted me. This rapidly changing tableau became a game that I played with my camera snapping dozens of photos as the scene changed from moment to moment.

Empty deck at sunrise. The scene changed every few seconds.

The moon's setting while the sun's rising.

The water begins to take on color. Fantastic cloud formations surround the rising sun.

Looking west, the moon is setting and the clouds are lit by the rising sun in the east.

The sun finally appears turning water and sky a crazy quilt of colors

A day at sea, it seems to me, is really what cruising is all about. Not everyone would agree with me - such is the infatuation with shopping, shopping and shopping. But to be out on the ocean without another ship in sight gives you an insight into the vastness of the sea and the minuteness of us humans. You can see approximately 20 miles to the distant horizon. All you can see is water and sky. No other ships. No land. Just endless ocean. Wondrous beauty!

Waking the next morning, we found ourselves on the dock in St. Thomas, the U.S. Virgin Islands. More properly, we were in Charlotte Amalie, the capital of the Virgin Islands. Our table mates, with whome we became quite friendly had arranged with a friend of a friend in Orlando for a driver to meet us and guide us around the island. That turned into a lovely day of sightseeing and beach-going. St. Thomas is a beautiful volcanic island with steep mountains and breathtaking views. Our guide, Ali, of Palestinian and Columbian parents, was pleasant and well-informed. He drove us in his “taxi” which was a converted, open-air mini-bus. Our first stop was Mountaintop. Its name describes it well. Up on top was a tourist shop and bar and a back deck with fabulous views of Magan’s Bay. That bay is considered to be the sixth greatest beach on earth according to National Geographic. It sure looked fabulous from our view high up on a mountain overlooking the bay and the Atlantic Ocean beyond.

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We woke up Wednesday morning to find ourselves docked in Charlotte Amelie, St. Thomas. Charlotte Amelie is the capitol of the U.S. Virign Islands. We had breakfast at the buffet in the Windjammer cafe.

The Edmonds family had arranged to have a driver meet us at the gangway in St. Thomas. Ali took us around the island on a deluxe tour.

Ali drove us to the famous Mountaintop viewing station, complete with rear deck, tourist shop and bar (where the banana daiquiri was allegedly invented). Below is Magenn's Bay, rated by National Geographic as one of the ten greatest beaches in the world.

Here's Meaghan at Magen's Bay, St. Thomas.

Our guide, Ali, tells us about St. Thomas and how difficult it is for poor people to live on an island that has only one source of income: tourism.

Beautiful Magan's Bay, St. Thomas U.S. Virgin Islands - and the Atlantic Ocean beyond.

Meaghan loves the camera.

Homesick?

Meaghan leads the way back to the tour bus.

Just in case you've never seen a Virgin Islands license plate.

Our tour group (with your blogster in front).

Once upon a time, donkeys were the main mode of transportation on St. Thomas. Now just a few remain - for the tourists to gawk at. Here's Stacey, Ali and Samantha and, um, Monica Lewinsky.

A very nice little ass. (Sorry. I couldn’t help myself).

An achingly beautiful island: St. Thomas. Our ship in the harbor - on the right.

Sweet Meaghan.

From Mountaintop we made our way to Coki Point - one of the island’s beautiful beaches. For $20 we rented a couple of chaises and an umbrella and ventured into fabulously clear waters as tropical fish swam all around us. Our buddies had brought a supply of dog biscuits which we wetted and smooshed into small bits which the fish gobbled up a voracious frenzy. The Edmonds had brought snorkel gear from home in Orlando and they swam around looking at the fish and having a great time. Stacey and I hung out on the beach. And then it rained - a little bit a first; then a little heavier. We were glad to have the umbrella and our entire group huddled under it as we waited a few minutes for Ali’s cab to return.

The Edmonds family - snorkeling at Coki Point beach - super clear water alive with tropical fish. Left to right: Grandma Elizabeth, Meaghan, Samantha and Al.

Strange divers invent a new language: Snorkel Talk. Samantha and Al explore St. Thomas - Coki Point.

Stacey floats in the fabulously clear waters of Coki Point beach.

Coki Point beach on St. Thomas. Beautiful, no? Notice the thickening clouds. Eventually the rain did come.

Ali picked us up and drove us to downtown Charlotte Amalie. This was the end of our tour and the beginning of shopping - the main street was lined with endless jewelry shops to lure tourists to part with their money. But Stacey and I were hungry. It was 3 o’clock and we hadn’t eaten since the morning. So we left the rest of the group, perused a few of the shops and headed to Cheryl’s Café on the beach for a quick bite.

Afterwards, we headed up hill to the second oldest, continuously used synagogue in the western hemisphere. Unfortunately it was closed and we couldn’t go in. So back down again as the rain started up again. We grabbed a taxi and headed back to the ship.

Ordering jerk chicken sandwiches at Glady's Cafe on the beach in Charlotte Amalie.

Hot peppers decorate the bar at Glady's Café.

One of the oldest continuously used synagogues in the western hemisphere - established 1796. Camille Pissaro, the French artist, was born on St. Thomas and attended services there.

The old Sephardic synagogue in Charlotte Amalie.

Old narrow streets in Charlotte Amalie. St. Thomas was under Danish rule until 1917 when the U.S. purchased it for $25 million.

In my final post - St. Martin, Cossacks on ice, Stacey climbs a rock wall (now that's something not to miss!), &c. Then back to Brooklyn, USA. Please stay tuned. - Matt

Where In The World Is Matt Lauer, er Weinstein? PART II

2008-09-19T11:11:00.030-04:00

Monday morning greeted us with blue skies and warm - very warm - temperatures. We were in The Bahamas but this had nothing to do with Bahamians or towns on the islands. In fact, it was Royal Caribbean’s own private little island – Coco Cay - complete with pristine beaches, a few little shops (duh!) and food stands. There were also water sports of all sorts, available for an extra fee for those so inclined: kayaks and ski-doos to rent, snorkeling, scuba diving and para-sailing. Of course, you could just laze around on the beautiful beach and take in the incredible views while getting baked by a blazing sun. What little shade there was had been taken by the hoards who descended ashore first thing in the morning (we weren’t part of that).
The ship was too large to dock on the small facilities of this little island so tenders were used to ferry passengers back and forth between the Mariner and the island. Mort stayed on board to while away the time. Stacey, Sallie and I ventured ashore for a few hours on shore.

The next morning we arrived at the ship line's private island in The Bahamas: Coco Cay. Stacey, Sallie and I boarded a tender that took us ashore. The ship is too large and stays offshore.

The ship towers overhead as the tender is loaded to take us ashore.

And here's the view that greeted us when we debarked at Coco Cay.

Sallie displays some local seaweed. Stacey just smiles.

Our ship floats a half-mile off shore at Coco Cay.

Impossible beauty - a blue Atlantic and white sandy beaches.

Stacey peruses a beautiful sight.

After lunch, Sallie headed back to the ship. Stacey and I strolled down the beach which was much less crowded compared to the area where the ship docked - that figured - people take the first place they come to. We found a nature trail that took us through a volcanic passage wending its way through heavy tropical growth. In a moment, we came across a peahen and her babies who led us along the path. Here and there chickens were running freely through the dense flora. We made our way out and found ourselves way down the beach where we were almost alone but for another couple.
It was getting late, so we walked up the beach and back to the tender to make our way back home. Tonight was one of two formal evenings - that meant dressing up in gown and suit or tux - not something I really looked forward to. We stsopped at The Promenade Café for an espresso at Seattle’s Best, went upstairs to our stateroom to shower and dress for dinner.

The sky is reflected in a mirror-like sea.

Stacey looks out to our ship waiting for us in the harbor.

Espresso on The Promenade. Our barista does his bottle thing.

Meet Winston - our super friendly cabin attendant. Winston is from the Phillipines. The international staff was like the United Nations - comprised of very hard working folks from many different lands.

On our way to dinner, which is at 6pm (a later seating is at 8:30), I snapped this picture of a charming couple we met on the stairway.

Our table in The Sound of Music dining room on level five. And here's Juan, our waiter. Juan hails from Honduras.

Sallie and Mort at dinner.

Stacey and Sallie strike a pose.

The other folks at our dinner table - the Henry / Edmonds family. Left to right: Elizabeth and her daughter Samantha with her husband Al and their daughter, Meaghan. We became fast friends over a few days.

Our table mate Al snapped this picture of us.

Everyone meet our favorite fellow diner, Meaghan.

A contemplative shot of Stacey and Sallie.

Meet Ashok, our assistant waiter. Ashok is from India. Our wait staff was beyond pleasant and hard working and very efficient. In short: great!

Samantha, Megan and Al - outside our dining room.

Stacey gets picked up on the Promenade by an old friend.

Mort, Sallie and Stacey hanging out after dinner on the Promenade - a great place for people watching.

At The Promenade.

A view of the busy, glitzy Promenade.

Late night dancing in one of the ship's many bars.

In my next post - St. Thomas, U.S. Virgin Islands

Where In The World Is Matt Lauer, er Weinstein?

2008-09-17T08:25:00.006-04:00

"Why don’t you come on a cruise with us?" That’s what my cousin Mort asked us in a phone call earlier this year. He suggested a tour on the Royal Caribbean line in September. And, he added, it wouldn’t cost that much because it’s hurricane season and therefore, not high season for the touring business. Little did we know what this year’s hurricane season would be like!

So this blog comes to you courtesy of a satellite internet link on board the Royal Mariner, a floating city that holds 3,000 people as it plies the Atlantic and Caribbean. I’m writing this post lying in my luxurious stateroom. There’s barely the slightest hint that we’re moving through the mighty Atlantic toward St. Thomas in the U.S. Virgin Islands where we’ll dock tomorrow at around 9 o’clock.

Our cruise began on Sunday, September 14th. On Saturday, Stacey and I flew out of JFK bound for Orlando. Mort and his wife Sallie have a timeshare in a Wyndham resort and it took the pressure off of arriving and shipping out on the same day. Sallie and Mort drove down from their home in Montgomery, Alabama the day before and they picked us up at the airport. After spending a relaxing day at their place we left the next morning for the easy one hour drive over to Cape Canaveral and the cruise terminal. The night before we dined at an old Florida institution - the Columbia, a wonderful Cuban restaurant.

Sallie and Stacey at Sallie and Mort's pool at the Wyndham Resort in Orlando.

Stacey, hanging out on the "shore" of the Lazy River.

Mort is caught by his toe by Sallie as they float down the Lazy River.

Stacey hangs on a tube with Sallie and Mort.

We're headed to the pool bar for a refreshing drink.

Having a nice cool one at the pool bar.

Boarding was easy enough. The new terminal was efficient and uncrowded and we made our way on board. It was 11 o’clock but we were told our rooms would not be available until one. We spent the time having lunch at the Windjammer Café where we had an overabundant buffet from which to choose our fare. Afterwards, we wandered around the ship to acquaint ourselves with the layout. At first, it was quite confusing - there are 14 decks, numerous elevators and stairways, cafes, restaurants, a gym, a spa, swimming pools and jacuzzis, a library, an internet shop and a city-block long promenade laid out like a European pedestrian shopping street, lined with shops and bars. Beautifully designed, with modern art gracing the walls and halls, the ship is a high-styled, magnificent floating hotel. One thing we noticed right away - this was an upscale and glittering ship but it was also a gigantic money-making machine - at every turn and at every moment - the ship has been organized to give the guests endless opportunities to spend and spend ... and spend. That bothered me. It was crass commercialism taken to the max. But after a while, I learned to ignore it and was able to concentrate just on the beauty of our surroundings and the magnificent grandeur of the vast ocean. Compared to Queen Elizabeth II, a ship we had been on many years before, this more modern ship presented the ocean to our view at every turn and in every location.

The endless hurricanes of the weeks before our trip had us debating the sanity of setting sale into the very path of the storms. As luck would have it, we’ve been sailing through a very calm ocean with endless blue skies set off with puffy white clouds. Perfect!

Ready to board the ship.

Stacey leads the way on board.

The first thing we did (because our rooms were not yet available) was to grab lunch at one of the ship's many eating locations. We're still in port and other cruise ships are visible.

After lunch, we went exploring. Here's Sallie at the Promenade - shops and cafes laid out to resemble a European shopping street - very cute.

The center lobby with glassed-in elevators gives a dramatic view upwards through the ship.

A view of the three-leveled dining rooms. Our table was on the top level, dubbed The Sound of Music.

At 4 o’clock on the day we set sail it was announced that we would have to participate in a ship safety drill. All passengers were to make their way to a muster station wearing their life preservers and listen to some safety facts. After the drill, we made our way to an outside deck and watched the Florida coastline fade into the distance. We were off and on our way to our first stop - The Bahamas, which we would reach the next morning.

Stacey at the emergency drill. Is this a weird picture or what?

Matt takes off in his life preserver. This guy cannot figure out what the hell I'm doing.

Are we having fun yet?

We're under way. In the distance, another ship is about to leave the channel and into the open sea. Stacey shoots me shooting her.

Up on a deck to greet the Atlantic Ocean as we leave Port Canaveral.

Small boats coming back in as our big boat is leaving.

The Florida coast stretches south into the distance as we enter the Atlantic bound for the Bahamas.

Goodbye Florida. Hello Stacey and the Atlantic.

The pool area is quite a colorful scene - but it's also very crowded and noisy. Fortunately, there's a second pool that's a bit more sedate.

In my next post - Bahamas, sunrises, moonsets, St.Thomas, &c. Be sure not to miss it if you can. - Matt

A Celebration, A Party For My Cousin.

2008-06-09T20:03:00.036-04:00

Jun 9, 2008

We're on a road trip again. Yes I know, it's hard to believe what with gas prices being as high as they are. But, not to worry -- smart me ... I took out an equity loan to pay for the gas. That way it doesn't hurt as much.

We headed south, down the NJ Turnpike on this, the first day of Global Warming ... temperatures were hovering in the mid 90's and the highway seemed devoid of its usual congestion as if to underscore the effect that the rushing rise in gasoline prices is having on Americans. (it broke the average price of $4/gallon today). The New York Times wrote yesterday, that some Americans, particularly low-income rural folk, are paying as much as 16% of their incomes for gas! Where or how this will end is hard to figure out. But for me the current situation is no big surprise after eight years of a President and administration that were baptised, raised, bathed and nurtured in and by big OIL. (You did know that Condoleeza Rice had a Chevron oil tanker named after her, right? Beftore entering government service she worked for that oil company).

(Click on the map for a larger image). NY Times graph showing how much people are paying as a percentage of their incomes in various parts of the country.

Pardon me for digressing. Where was I? Yes, we're on a road trip -- on our way to visit our grandson, Ethan, and his parents. Now that they've moved from two-and-a-half-hours-away Connecticut to eight-hours-away Virginia, we don't get to see our grandson, daughter and son-in-law as often as we want. This is our first trip to their new house in Norfolk.

But first a stop in Arlington, Virginia, across the Potomac from Washington, for a visit with friends Ellen and Brian as well as a celebration of my cousin Dottie's 90th birthday. Dottie is my dad's first cousin - her mother and Ben's mother were sisters. Dottie and her brother, Maxie, were closest of friends with my father as they grew up together in what was a very close-knit family. My dad's gone. And Maxie died many years ago. Stacey and I became close to Dottie as my parents were declining. We kept that new-found relationship going after they died. And that kinship has put me in touch with a part of my family with which I had no previous contact. From Dottie I've gotten to meet new cousins in California (Maxie's daughters and former wife are out there) and a new cousin in Virginia (Kathy, Dottie's daugher) and her family. Like they say: Tengo familia! (I have family!)

Yesterday we celebrated Dottie's birthday at Judith's house. Judith is a friend of Dottie's daugher, Kathy. Surrounded by family and friends, it was a lovely and loving afternoon of good food and good people.

Waiting for Dottie to arrive - Brian and Ellen (close to camera), Judith (our hostess) and Mike.

Arthur and Harriet came in from Brooklyn also and we discovered that we had many friends in common, going all the way back to college!

Ah! The guest of honor.

Work was continuing in the kitchen with (l-r) Suri (Dottie's granddaughter), Kathy and Stacey.

Dottie arrived and was surrounded by her loved ones and ones who loved her. She is a remarkable woman who doesn't look anywhere near her age. I believe it's her ebullient demeanor and positive outlook that has kept her so young. Ever the optimist, she radiates cheerfulness and it's rare to find a frown on her face or a complaint on her tongue. That, despite a few infirmities and not a few personal tragedies. Because of Dottie's uplifting spirit, you couldn't help but see the admiration for her on the faces of her friends and family who had gathered to celebrate her birthday on this day.

Dottie, surrounded by people who love her.

Kathy has a lovely family and a nice circle of friends in Arlington who we've met on a few occasions over the last few years. Neighbors, old friends, family - it's always a gratifying and fun time at these events. Judith, our hostess, is a devoted peace activist and her house showed evidence of that. There was a feeling of warmth in the air and it wasn't only from the blistering 100 degree temperature outside.

Judith's house is bedecked with souveneirs of the peace movement and I felt right at home.

Marlene, Dottie's cousin, and Stacey - in the kitchen.

Two beautiful women - Dottie and Kathy's neighbor, Faith.

Capping off the afternooon was some great singing and picking by Ric (Kathy's husband) and his friends, Kim (pictured here) and Lynn.

Here's the whole bunch of us. Even your Blogger got into the shot, thanks to Ellen who took this picture.

And here's the family shot.

The afternoon slipped away. Finally the cake came out - Stacey had made one of her famous chocolate cakes and decorated it beautifully. (People ate it 'beautifully' also). It was a great day for a great lady. Happy, happy birthday Dottie!

Stacey's birthday cake is ready to be presented.

The candles are being lit.

Make a wish and blow them out!

Happy birthday to you ... happy birthday dear Dottie ... We Love You!

To see ALL my photos of this grand celebration,
just CLICK HERE.

Our Little Cat Is Gone

2008-04-28T20:30:00.020-04:00

Apr 28, 2008

Pumpkin left us and the world tonight at 7:05 pm in our friend Ted's veterinary office. We brought her there because she had lost her battle with cancer at age 14. Pumpie had developed a mass under her tongue and as it grew and grew she lost the ability to drink and eat. She lost weight, couldn't clean and groom her magnificent fur any longer, stopped purring and cuddling and finally we were forced to decide.

Nobody should have to make that decision. Several times over the last few weeks we thought we would let her go and then changed our minds. Selfish, I suppose. But though she was losing weight and couldn't eat or drink she was still alert and mobile. So we fed her food and gave her water through a syringe. But cats don't take to syringes in their mouth as a form of eating. They lap their food and water and her tongue couldn't do that any more.

I've cried very hard over the loss of my darling cat. It's might be hard for some to understand how close these creatures become to us. You'll just have to believe me that to lose a cat that has been part of the family for so many years is like losing a family member.

This little cat was particularly special. If I was feeling down or sad about something or other, I could put my arms around her, draw her near and hold her close. Her purring had a magical and palliative effect, calming me, soothing me and somehow diminishing my sadness. This effect that cats have on their humans is documented and they are now used therapeutically in nursing homes to heal and cheer those in need

Pumpkin came to us as a stray who wandered across our backyard deck 14 years ago, just days after the death of one of our three cats. We posted photos of her in the neighborhood looking for her owners as we thought she might have gotten lost but nobody claimed her. Adamantly opposed to taking in another cat, I relented after a few days and have been in love with her ever since. For years she was the "new" cat in our house and it was only in recent years that she became our "old" cat - the other two, Baby and Misty, having died quite a while ago.

Pumpkin lived on and kept us faithful and loving company. She moved with us from Manhattan Beach to Prospect Heights and took the move in easy stride, adopting herself quickly to her new abode. She was an indoor cat but would often love to go into our new backyard to eat some grass (and then throw up). Even in these last days, as sick as she was, she begged to go out to the yard where she would slowly stroll the perimeter and then come back inside as if she were reminiscing better times..

Pumpkin had many names - she was alternately Pumpie, Pumpkie, Pump, Walking Rug, Furry Mither and more recently I've been calling her Baby and My Little Cat - she had lost so much weight.

She was a very smart little cat. I would say, "wanna play a game?" And she would dart up the stairs from the living room, pausing half way up for me to come over and play with her through the banister poles; she would bat at me through the spaces. This would quickly, in a matter of seconds, deteriorate to her lying sideways along one of the treads, all four feet pushing against the riser while I would push back in the other direction, scratching her head and heck. Purring at me, I would tell her "I'm gonna get that cat" and run around to ascend the steps and pet and kiss her belly and body. This was our game and we played it over and over.

Pumpkin on the steps where we played our game.

One night about a year ago, she wakened me in the middle of the night with an awful sound. Instead of her usual petite and gentle meow this was more of a garish howl. I asked myself what the hell is wrong with her and reached out toward the foot of the bed where I could make her out in the darkness. As I touched her, I felt it - the mouse (alive) in her mouth which prevented her from making her usual sound. She was very proud and had brought it up to us to show off what she had caught - her cry had been intended to wake us so we could see what a good cat she was. Instead, Stacey shrieked and scared the poor puss out of her skin who then ran downstairs, mouse in mouth.

When we travelled we always knew that Pumpie would be waiting for us at home. Because she couldn't tell time we often wondered what she was thinking about in our absence. But after many trips we felt she knew somehow that we were always coming home eventually. When we did return she would kvell with affection and actually drool because she was deliriously happy at having us back. Guess what? We were ecstatic too. We were always happy to return home to our waiting cat. The first thing we would do on entering was to drop our bags, call out her name and pick her up and hold and hug her. We missed her too!

The hardest part of saying goodbye is knowing we'll never have her with us again. Holding her limp body, the warmth still in it, I held her close, sobbing uncontrollably, wanting somehow to breathe her in so I could keep her with me. Not to be. Never again -- no more cuddling, no more purring, no more sleeping at Stacey's head each night. She adored Stacey who, we think, she mistook for her mother; she tolerated me...but I adored her nevertheless and tortured her with my affection. But, like our other pets we've had over the years, time will heal and the hurt will recede and only the wonderful memory will remain.

Goodbye my little cat. Love you forever.

For a slide show of photos of our beautiful Pumpkin, click here.

Also see this blog I wrote from when we moved: click here.

Ethan Turns 18 - Wow!

2008-04-25T18:55:00.012-04:00

Apr 25, 2008

Our grandson has turned 18. Months, not years. And now the change in him comes furiously fast - daily, there are new words, new expressions, new levels of comprehension.

Dani and Ethan came down to visit us for a week. The family is about to move to Virginia from Connecticut which means an eight hour trip, up from three. No longer will be able to hop in the car and return the same or next day - it was so easy. We can't stand the thought of not seeing that family so often and easily.

To keep you, our friends and family, updated, I write this post and include some new photos: pictures around the house and then a dinner date with Corey and Alex (who are expecting one of their own (on Stacey's birthday no less -- November 21st). Enjoy and have a great summer. - Matt

For a slide show of all the latest photos, just click here.

Dani and Ethan enjoying a beautiful day in front of our house.

For a slide show of all the latest photos, just click here.

Deerfield Beach - Here We Come!

2008-02-05T12:14:00.000-05:00

February 4, 2008

Saturday morning, the day we were to leave Naples, we awoke early Rachel, Stacey and I took a walk in a nearby nature preserve: Clam Pass Park which contains one of Naples’ very beautiful beaches in a lovely natural setting. To reach the beach one has to walk a mile on a boardwalk (or you can take a free tram) through its 35 acres of mangrove forest. On the other end is a bar with snacks, kayack and umbrella rentals and endless gleaming white sand. Streams pierce the dense mangrove forest and exotic birds fly in and out. Strangely, high rise apartments are adjacent to the forest and degrade the natural feeling.

The entrance to Clam Pass Park on Naples’ north end.

Stacey and Rachel walk the mile. The boardwalk, which is constructed from recycled plastic waste, wends through a dense mangrove forest.

Tall luxury condos (don’t you just love the phrase "luxury condos"?) abut the nature preserve. I guess if you live there you would appreciate your closeness to the park and beach but I found it a disturbing intrusion.

After a while, you reach the beach and it’s beautiful and not crowded at all. Rent a kayak, a canoe, have a beer or just stretch out in a beautiful setting.

We returned home and loaded the car. The ride across Florida on I-75, Alligator Alley, was uneventful. There are few places to stop; the Everlades stretch out on either side of the road, a vast open land with scrub, swamps and palms as far as you can see. It took us a bit over two hours to reach my uncle and aunt’s home in Deerfield Beach which is just below Boca Raton and twenty minutes or so north of Fort Lauderdale.

View Larger Map

We were greeted with hugs and kisses and, even though they’re 92 and 93 (Bea and Walter, respectively) they are quite remarkable with a youthful appearance and demeanor. Walter’s memory is failing but he is still witty and charming and was so happy to see us. Bea is as sharp and physically cable as ever and she doesn’t seem to age at all.

Uncle Walter spends a good part of the day in his comfortable recliner. He’s as good-natured as you could possibly imagine.

We’ve stayed at Bea and Walter’s many times over the years. More often than not, we drive down and shlep our bikes with us (which I’ve sorely missed). This time we flew. Bea is a great cook and always has the welcome mat out for us. We spend time with them, discussing politics and family. And they give us free reign to come and go. It’s always a great place to stay and visit with family – it’s been a big part of our life.

Aunt Bea cooking up a mess of ribs, one of her great specialties. The next night was pasta with a white clam sauce. Yum!

My uncle in front of his house tending to his plants.

===

Part of our usual routine when on the east coast of Florida is to meet our friends, Barbara and Mark. They are the consummate foodies, so in addition to enjoying their company they're a good source of all the great dining places. They also frequent the crafts fairs, concerts and street fairs. We met them in Fort Lauderdale at a jazz festival and then spent some time later for coffee on Las Olas.

Barbar, Mark and Stacey at the Jazz Brunch on the river in Ft. Lauderdale.

Mark at Stork's coffee house on the Intracoastal in Ft. Lauderdale.

As I mentioned, Lee and Alexis were also in Florida, although they were on their own trip, staying at a Marriott in Lauderdale. We had made up to meet them and would bring Bea and Walter down to them for a visit and lunch.

Aunt Bea and Uncle Walter and us, in front of their house in Deerfield Beach.

Down at the Marriott for lunch, Bea listens, Alexis emotes and Stacey peruses the menu.

My brother shows off his Iphone to Bea.

...who can't make heads or tails out of it.

Here's our family photo. That's Mike, an old friend of Lee and Lex's (and of ours) on the right.

And here's our family photo ... sans Michel.

Walter and Bea ... thanks for another wonderful visit. We love you!

If it's Naples, it must be Florida.

2008-02-01T16:36:00.000-05:00

Feb 1, 2008

Well, it sure as hell ain't Italia. But the weather is magnifico. It has been a very relaxing few days down here in Southwest Florida. Not really beach weather (we avoid too much sun anyway) but very pleasant in the upper 70's, breezy and beautiful blue skies. Rachel and Oliver are very easy hosts. Last night they went out with friends and so Stacey and I were on our own. Not a problem. I perused the dining situation on the computer. I found out that there's not a lot of cheap eats unless you wanna dine at Micky D's &c. The so-called fine dining is very expensive and there's a finite amount of restaurants in any case. We ended up at a lovely place called U.S.S. Nemo. Situated in a strip mall (just about everything is in a mall), it's decorated in cool blue with a touch of 20,000 Leauges Under the Sea which sounded like it might be a bit too cute and kitchy but it wasn't. Specializing in seafood with an Asian overtone, it was really quite good. Stacey had grilled scotch salmon and I had tandoor salmon. With wine and appetizers, the bill came to $80.00 ... a bit higher than we typically spend in New York but, hey, we're on vacation and it was quite enjoyable. I give it three M's (out of 4). Recommended if you ever get down here.

Rachel and Ollie - good friends. Great hosts.

For those of you not familiar with the west coast of Florida, here's a map to show you where we are. Tomorrow we leave and take I-75 (aka Alligator Alley) across the state to visit my aunt and uncle in Deerfield Beach on the east coast. Lee and Alexis are coming down also and we have other friends who are there as well. So just a few days remain and lots to do and see. We'll need a vacation when we get back to New York.

View Larger Map

Today, Stacey, Rachie and I drove a few miles down to Old Naples - the historical downtown. Seems I was wrong (in my last post) in saying there's nothing old to see down here. The town was founded in 1885. One of the first things built was a very long pier that steamers could tie up to. They were docking so that prospective real estate buyers could be brought to see the potential of building in southwest Florida. A 35 room hotel was constructed and I read that the first guest was Grover Cleveland's wife. Why I should really care about that I have no idea, but I thought I'd pass it on to you so you have one more useless piece of information with which to fill your brain.

But I digress. Seems that many of these late 19th century Victorian era homes and lovely old bungalows are still there. Frommer's tour book (online) points out that Naples may be very wealthy but the town also has a reputation for preservation and, apparently, that's true. Early developers laid out a grid and sold plots and pretty soon the shorefront along the Gulf came to be known as millionaire's row. It's lined with very impressive mansions as far as the eye can see. Hmm, it seems millionaires always want to preserve their own beautiful neighborhoods but are happy to build sun-blocking skyscrapers in poor people's neighborhoods.

Stacey and Rachel pose for my camera. We're out on a long walk to explore picturesque Old Naples.

The streets in Old Naples run down to a fabulous beach. Mansions line Gulf Shore Drive, also known as Millionaire's Row.

A lovely old bungalow from the early 1900's.

From the Naples Pier, the first structure built in Naples in 1888 (it burned down or was destroyed by storms several times and was rebuilt each time) provides a wonderful view up the endless beach.

The star attractions at the Naples Pier are the pelicans and it's no wonder as they put on an amazing show. With huge wingspans (up to six feet for the Brown Pelican which is native to this region) and enormous pouched bills they make an incredible sight - suddenly raising themselves out of the water and then, just as suddenly, plunge-diving back into the water to fill their pouch with fresh fish. They hang out together and fish as a group, chasing schools of fish into shallow water where they can be scooped up easily.

The birds also like to sun themselves on the beach. Here's one putting on a show for two admirers.

The Pelicans put on a spectacular show, soaring and diving for fish.

The historic Palm Cottage, builit in 1895 by Walter N. Haldeman, owner and publisher of the Louisville (Kentucky) Courier-Journal, is one of the oldest buildings in Naples. It's the only remaining building built of tabbie mortar which was made from the burning of seashells.

A rare sighting of the Blogster, ensconsed in a fantastic Banyon tree in front of the Palm Cottage.

We finished our long exploration of Old Naples and walked back to our car on Naples' swanky Fifth Avenue. Tonight, our last night with Rachel and Oliver, would be a sunset dinner at the outdoor bar/restaurant at the very fancy Ritz-Carlton -- the Gumbo Limbo bar. It had been a nice visit with our friends. Tomorrow we're off to the east coast. See you there.

Beautiful Stacey in front of a sunset-lit Ritz Carlton.

Oliver and Stacey in fading sunlight at Gumbo Limbo.

Stacey and Rachel peruse the menu.

Just some profiles in gluttony, er courage.

Hello Florida. Goodbye Rudy!

2008-01-31T00:03:00.001-05:00

Jan 31, 2008

Stacey and I took a little vacation trip to the Sunshine state to visit our friends, Rachel and Oliver, who've rented a house in Naples for the winter. Ollie, who hails from Dominica in the Caribbean's Lesser Antilles, hates the cold of Maine where they live in summer. They usually return to Dominica for the winter but this year decided on Florida. "Come on down. We have plenty of room," they said and so we did and so we're here. We awoke at 4:30 a.m. on Tuesday, had our usual driver, Thomas, take us to the airport and left JFK at 8am. Just a few easy hours later and we were in Ft. Myers on Florida's Gulf coast. We hopped into a rental car and drove the half an hour to Naples and our friends.

Stacey in shorts in January - it's 78 degrees in Naples today ... nice.

We had lunch at a nice upscale restaurant overlooking an inlet just a few blocks from their house. This, after a little ride around the neighborhood. Naples seems to be very wealthy and very white. Very different from east coast Florida which, it seems, is more cosmopolitan and more diverse.

The night of our arrival the four of us went to a club for some live music and dancing. Chalua and Cream (a Black woman singer and her white keyboard-playing and vocalist husband) made fabulous music together. In a great contrast to New York, where we are more often than not among the older members of the clientele in restaurants that we frequent, we were the youngest at this club. Its customers were mostly in their 70's and 80's. Still, these older foks were up and dancing their tooshes off. One woman, 88 years old, and her 92 year old husband, snowbirds from Kentucky, were bringing the house down with their incredible moves on the dance floor. The evening turned out to be memorable. It was fun, amusing, sweet and bittersweet all at the same time.

I snapped this with my phone: an 88-year old youngster out on the dance floor . And she was shaking her booty like no one's business!

It had been a long day and we were tired. Home we went for a good night's sleep. The next morning, Stacey and I were up and out for a long walk to Starbucks. What's amazing about Naples though (and all of Flordia) is that it's really not made for walking. When we were last here some 20 years ago, there was nothing here. Development was just beginning to take off. So there was vast amounts of empty land. What they do in Florida is just carve it up into a huge grid with massive roads running at right angles to each other. You drive a mile or so and come to an intersection of this grid. That's where they typically plop down 1 or 2 or 3 malls. Just for good measure there can be a couple of extra malls in between these giant intersections. And they're not small affairs either. Many of them are humongous places, the better to outdo the mall next door or around the corner. And so it goes, for mile after mile after mile. Needless to say, this type of construction does not favor walking (or even biking). Sure, there are sidewalks but nary a soul is to be seen walking on them. And if you happen to see a person or two walking, they look so out of place as to look downright weird. One wonders, why is that person walking along this road. Everyone else is in their car, speeding down the road, hurrying from one mall to another I suppose. Not really my cup of tea.

If it's true, as the experts say, that to turn back global warming we're going to have to get a grip on our addiction to oil and thus reorganize our car-crazed transportation system, it's hard to imagine how we're ever going to do that when you take a look at states like Florida where they've constructed a society that is so utterly and totally dependent on car use. Can they or will they ever be able to undo what they've created here?

Stacey walks down an empty sidewalk on U.S. 41 (also known as the Tamiami Trail). Sidewalks there are, but they are virtually unused. If you don't own a car in Florida, you're out of luck.

If you're looking for old architecture in Naples, you're gonna be hard pressed to find it. Everything is brand, spanking new. At least what we've seen so far.

I love the palm trees and the lush vegetation that fills Florida's air with a lovely, warm aroma.

We head back to Rachel's. Stacey is waiting for the endless traffic to stop while crossing the Tamiami Trail. We took a back street back home and it was lovely and quiet compared to this main road. But, once again, almost nobody was to be seen out and about on foot or even just sitting around outside their houses. There is no sense of community or neighborhood -- the only place people are out are at the malls which have replaced Main Streets throughout the country. Sad.

The day after the Florida primary. She didn't mean no disrespect (not much) but, truthfully, we weren't saddened a bit by the arrogant Rudy's precipitous downfall.

Tomorrow.....who knows? Stay tuned for more news and views from sunny Florida. Forecast? Sunny and 80. Sigh.

Dear Friends Return To Our Town

2007-11-11T09:16:00.001-05:00

Nov 11, 2007

Sometimes you have friends during periods of your life and then they're gone, never to be seen again. That's just the way it is. Then there are your life-long friends who remain part of your life forever. They may live far away but contact is maintained and, distant or near, the friendship is always close by. That's how it is with our friends Ellen and Brian. Stacey has known Ellen since they were little girls and neighbors growing up in Brooklyn. Their parents were best of friends and so have they been forever. Then, early on in married life, the four of us lived in an apartment house on Hawthorne Street in Flatbush. We shared great times there and an insoluble bond was formed even though the Egans eventually moved away to West Virginia (and lived in a cabin without running water and electricity), then to Virginia, then to Georgia and then back to Virginia where they reside now. We may only see them a few times a year but those are wonderful visits that we cherish. The friendship lives on.

Ellen and Brian are here this weekend. They are both great lovers of art, Ellen being a fine artist in her own right. So a trip to New York always includes a visit to this museum or that. Coming into town on Friday by train from Washington, they spent the entire day at the Met. Dinner was with Ellen's cousin in Manhattan and then they subwayed it to Brooklyn where they reached our house after midnight, exhausted but very satisfied.

On Saturday, after waking at a respectable hour, we shared breakfast and then set off on a walk through our beloved Prospect Park and a wee bit of a self-guided walking tour of Park Slope, one of Brooklyn's gems of historic brownstone neighborhoods.

But first a stop and look at the Central library, located at the intersection of Flatbush Avenue and Eastern Parkway, sitting tangent to Grand Army Plaza, one of the city's few grand open spaces. The library opened its doors in 1941. This, after many decades of delayed construction due to begin in 1905 but slowed due to economic depression, war, controversy, changed plans and other problems. The Central library is the crown jewel of the Brooklyn Public Library which, in itself, is the fifth largest public library system in the country. The building is an architectural gem -- it's laid out to resemble a giant opened book, the spine being the main entrance and the two open sections of pages spreading out along the two great thoroughfares of Brooklyn.

The grand entrance to the Cental library. The sculptor, C. Paul Jennewein,designed gilded relief carvings of mythical figures such as Athena and Zeus combined with modern personalities like an electrician and a miner. These pylons frame massive doors decorated with gilt carvings of literary characters such as Moby Dick and White Fang, among others. It's quite a striking entrance into a library that sees upwards of three million visitors a year -- more than the entire population of Brooklyn itself!

The grand entrance to the Central library.

We entered the libary to briefly tour its current exhibit - photos depcting the great number of memorials to the civil war that are sprinkled around the borough. The war had such a great impact on Brooklyn (as it did on the entire country) that the city (Brooklyn was its own city until 1898, at which time it was incorporated into New York City)commemorated it in numerous statues throughout its environs.

We left the library and sauntered across Flatbush Avenue to enter the park. Fall is late this year as the trees are only beginning to change color.

Ellen, Stacey and Brian walking on the park's circumferential road. The park is a year-round magnet for the residents of the neighborhoods adjacent to it.

Brian, Stacey and Ellen - enjoying the park.

A giant tree provides a carpet of leaves for runners passing by.

We left the park after a while at 9th Street and walked down that broad thoroughfare until 7th Avenue, the beginning of our book's walking tour of the neighborhood.

On leaving the park at 9th Street, visitors can view the memorial sculture to that great friend of the American revolution, The Marquis de Lafayette. Henry Bacon designed the granited stele. And Daniel Chester French sculpted the bronze figures which depicts both the nobibility and the aristocratic dandyish bearing of Lafayatte. Note the Black servant tending to the heroe's horse, probably a slave. The same team of artists designed the Lincoln Monument, unveiled just five years after the Lafayette piece. There's a lot of history to be had in Brooklyn if one wants it.

Beautiful limestones form a geometric pattern on 9th Street.

A shocking pink, 3-wheeled British car advertises a local restaurant.

Now we began our tour in earnest. The book pointed out that Brooklyn has also been known as the "city of churches," and indeed, within just a few blocks, we passed no less than four churches. With book in hand I examined the unique architecture of some of these buildings which, in my other every-day pursuits, I had passed by hundreds of times without so much as a glance.

Brian walks past the Green Wood Baptist church on the corner of 6th Street and 7th Avenue.

We stop in front of John Jay High School which our tour book says used to be Manual Training High School. It graduated the likes of Henny Youngman, nobel prize-winning physicist Isidor Isaac Rabi, Thelma Ritter and Joe Pepitone.

We turned north on 2nd Street and were looking for a "talking tree" which our book said resided in front of number 646. It turned out to be a whimsical bronze sculpture of a tree whose branches each ended in a hand that was engaged in sign language. Fabulous!

It was getting late and we were getting hungry. We cut short our walking tour (to be continued) and headed to our house and our car. Our destination would be pizza: Brian cannot visit the city without savoring a slice.

Our walk back home took us through the Grand Army Plaza green market where I couldn't resist some photos of the colorful vegetables that were laid out on the vendors' tables.

Turnips anyone?

The broccoli looked good enough to eat. So we bought it and ate it!

You say potahto, I say potato.

We were on a quest for pizza. Not wanting to stray too far from home, we drove to the foot of the Brooklyn Bridge and checked out one of the borough's highly-rated pizzerias, Grimaldi's. We'd been there before and the pie was wonderful indeed. But that fact is undermined by its downside: Grimaldi's is a destination for locals but also for every tourist in town - it's listed in virtually every tour book. The line outside on an autumnal Saturday was way too long for us. Stacey quickly googled "best Brooklyn pizzas" and besides DiFara's on Avenue J (too far away for us) a new listing appeared in third place and it was closer: Fornino's on Bedford Avenue in Williamsburg. This was not a disappointment at all. In fact, in our guide book (the one you're reading right now) it rates right up there with the other two and maybe even better. Highly recommended! But please don't tell too many others: we'd like to prevent the development of the Grimaldi syndrome.

Brian finally gets his pie.

Brian at Fornino's in Williamsburg. Hey! That's me taking the photo (in the mirror).

After our late lunch, we walked around the rapidly exploding Williamsburg a bit. Every week sees new shops and restaurants in this previously seedy, rundown neighborhood. The development and changes come on so fast, it can take your breath away. The streets are teeming with crowds of young people; Bedford Avenue has a low-rise, villagey feel to it. But down by the riverside, different types of changes are brewing. As always, the artists and the young move in first, attracted by low rents, lots of living space and proximity to Manhattan. Then come the shops and restaurants. Then come the developers, their greedy little eyes enlarged with dollar signs. Recent rezoning of the Brooklyn waterfront by Bloomberg and company is already evidenced by huge high-rises being erected along the East River. "Luxury condos," cry out the cliched banners affixed to the construction scaffolds. Eventually, if they get their way (and in this city, the center of world-wide capital, money usually does) a wall of steel and glass will replace the low-rise old streets of old Williamsburg. What was once a piece of Brooklyn's industrial/residential history will then be eradicated to be remade in the image of Trump's upper west side wall on the Hudson. Yup. There goes the neighborhood!

Brian in front of an interestingly-decorated door in Williamsburg.

Ethan Is One Year Old!

2007-10-20T18:18:00.001-04:00

Oct 20, 2007

Note: you can see any photo larger by clicking on it. Then return by hitting "back."

It hardly seems possible ... that our new grandson has reached the grand old age of one year. Was it not yesterday that we visited Dani in Albany Medical Center to greet our brand new grandson as he made is way into the world?

Here's the brand new baby just one year ago.

But last October turned into the new year and then that year went through its winter, spring and summer and now fall is here once again, albeit a very warm one. The younger Lundbergs came down to Brooklyn from Connecticut (last year this time they were living up near Albany) and we had a great little birthday party at our neighborhood pizzeria, Amorina. The party was held down here so family and friends could join in. And Mary and Brian, Eric's parents (a.k.a. the elder Lundbergs), drove up from Maryland to celebrate.

Here's the birthday boy, with tie no less, with the other grandparents, Mary and Brian.

We took over Amorina on a beautiful fall day (the restaurant opens at 5pm so we were given two hours on our own from two to four. Pizza, ziti, lasagna, eggplant parmigiana, salad, beer and wine - and, to top it all off, Stacey's famous chocolate cake, decorated and customized just for Ethan!

Erik and his one year old boy.

Is this cute, or what?

Mommy loves Ethan.

Grandma, what's that?

Grandma, that was silly.

Ethan has learned to point. So has the family.

Doreen obviously finds guys with pointy hats very boring.

Aunt Alexis and Uncle Lee with the mother of Ethan.

Here's Amorina on Vanderbilt Avenue near Prospect Place in Brooklyn's Prospect Heights - a great neighborhood place for delicious pizza, salads and molto autentico Italian dishes.

Peter, Steffi and Stacey seem to be having a grand old time.

And here's Aunt Lori!

Two really good old friends: Dani and Joanna.

Erik and mom Mary.

Joanna thinks Dani's a party pooper. (Not!)

Grandpa Brian helps Ethan with his balloon.

Aunt Sissy came too. And we were happy she was there.

Of course, the piece de resistance was grandma Stacey's fabulous chocolate cake - decorated for her darling Ethan.

Dani loves her Aunt Alexis.

Ethan blew out all those candle!

Cousin Steffi and darlin' Al had a great time.

So what do you think? Does Ethan love Grandma's chocolate cake?

You be the judge.

Time to open the presents. Oh my!

Happy first birthday, darling grandson. May you grow up in a world of peace.

Mike's In Town! Time For Some Brooklyn Pizza.

2007-08-31T17:34:00.000-04:00

Aug 31, 2007

It's bad enough that Dani lives three-and-a-half hours away in Saratoga Springs. That means we don't get to see her and Erik very often. Not to mention we don't get to see our new grandson Ethan every day! Worse than that, Mike lives in L.A. so visits from or to him are few and far between. I miss him terribly as months go by without a sighting (or a hug). Phone calls don't quite cut it.

So it was with great excitement and anticipation that a trip east has been in the works and now it's here. Mike came in on Wednesday and is staying for six days. With him is his friend Yen, a lovely young woman, who we've been getting to know. Every trip home for Mike is a chance to recharge his New York batteries. Living and working in Los Angeles, he misses his home town and his New York roots. Today he's out carousing in Manhattan. Yesterday, after a trip to Brooklyn's Avenue J for some pizza at DiFara's (consistently rated one of New York's top slices), he and Yen took the subway to Green-Wood cemetary for a walking tour. After that, they rode into Manhattan, explored the electronics store J&R and then walked back over the Brooklyn Bridge, one of the great NY experiences, where we met them for dinner at one of our favorite restaurants, Noodle Pudding.

Mike's back in town. Getting ready to hit the street in search of Brooklyn pizza.

Mike working remotely from Brooklyn on jobs he's involved in back west.

Like parents, like son. Mike loves food and claims that L.A. doesn't begin to compare to New York. So we headed to Avenue J for Brooklyn's best pizza: Di Fara's. And they even sell slices! But be prepared for a very long wait: tremendous demand. Agonizingly slow, old-world supply.

"I brought this poor starving kid here to get him some good, nutritious Brooklyn pizza." What a good mom!

Here's the master at work: Domenico DeMarco of Di Fara. Wonderful pizza. Maddening system ... or no system at all; thus, people crowd the counter ordering slicers and whole pies, but who knows who's first, second, next? No one, that's who! And Domenico makes each and every pie all by himself ever since he landed here 40 years ago. A high stress waiting game but in the end delicious pizza made from imported San Marzano tomatoes and fresh buffalo mozzarella laid upon a thin and crusty base.

Even though his son and daughter are there to help, Domenico is the one who produces the actual pizza from beginning to end. Including the cutting of the slices.

Time to start another pie.

Pizza in. Pizza out. All day long.

It's hot and crowded inside so here's a better place to enjoy your pizza.

Now it's off to other NYC sights. Mike and Yen on the subway to Green-Wood cemetary.

Ethan Goes To His First Baseball Game

2007-07-28T22:48:00.001-04:00

Jul 28, 2007

Another milestone for my nine-month-old grandson Ethan. His first ball game. And why not? His dad is a baseball fanatic. In town for a wedding, Dani and Erik also wanted to include a Saturday night Cyclones game at Brooklyn's Keyspan Park in Coney Island. Unfortunately, Dani wasn't feeling well so she didn't join us. So Stacey, Erik and I, and Ethan of course, drove down to Coney and took our seats in Section 10 between home and first base and enjoyed a wonderful summer evening at the ball park.

Ethan and his dad in front of our house on our way to the game.

Ethan's first visit to a ball park.

Daddy explains what's going on.

Grandma is along to provide support.

I think I like this game.

If a ball comes this way I can catch it in my hand. Except my hand is in my mouth.

Ethan is a joy. He sat, quietly and happily, for the entire game!

Play ball! Cyclones playing the Vermont Lake Monsters in Keyspan Park.

The first of many ball games. You think?

The Cyclones hold a strategy conference on the pitcher's mound.

We left just before the ninth inning as Ethan decided he finally had had enough. And, by the way, the Cyclones mashed the Monsters, 2 to 1.

A nice farewell -- an almost full moon rising behind Coney Island's landmark parachute jump

From Martha's Vineyard to Brooklyn to Ogunquit

2007-07-25T13:54:00.000-04:00

Jul 25, 2007
We returned a while ago from that island off of Cape Cod, spent a hectic week or so at home and then left, once again. This Monday saw us travelling north on Interstate 95 (the New England Thruway) in the midst of one of these freakish rainstorms we've been having lately. Yuck....95 is bad enough on a a good day, what with the giant 18-wheelers, SUV's and other monsters careening to their destinations. Add torrential rains, oily road spray splashed constantly on your windshield, construction sites and heavy summer-time traffic and it's definitely not a pleasant way to travel. Actually, downright disgusting.

But we had a date with Oliver and Rachel who have a lovely farm in Maine's southern parts, normally a five hour drive from New York. The drive stretched to seven hours, given the conditions, but we arrived healthy and happy. We've been to their place many times before and love it up there. Ogunquit is a consummate beach town with beautiful old homes, cute shops and places to dine. In summer it's terribly crowded. But our friends' house is tucked away out of town and as soon as one gets off U.S. 1 (the main street of Ogunquit, loaded with summer traffic and regular commercial traffic as well), the peace and quiet of the Maine countryside is there to soothe you.

Click the map above for a more versatile Google map of Ogunquit, Maine.

Oliver's Jaguar cruises the Maine countryside in elegance.

Since we arrived late, dinner - Maine lobsters - was early and at home. It was fun catching up on old times. We were tired from our all-day drive and retired early. The next morning we made our way to Ogunquit's famous diner: The Egg & I pancake and waffle restaurant. Rachel stayed home - she prefers the quietude of her home. Stacey and Oliver and I piled into his Jag and drove the short trip into town for breakfast.

The Egg & I is a popular destination for summer tourists. Say "cheese."

Oliver "helps out" at The Egg & I."

Stacey and Ollie in the kitchen in Maine.

Our friends continue to upgrade their little farmhouse and its surroundings. The pool and the garden are particularly beautiful. The fields beyond are a wonderful setting and glow with color when the sunset illuminates them at the end of each day.

Their beautiful garden with a myriad of flowers and fruit.

Chillin' in the cozy living room.

The sun was setting and Rachel wanted to show us a new path her gardener had carved from the tall grass in the back fields. It was a lovely walk but we were vigorously attacked by starving mosquitoes back there.

The setting sun is filtered through Maine's trees.

Everybody ... meet Ruby!

The house and barn in fading sunlight.

Two friends share a laugh and a hike.

Wild flowers in Rachel's back fields.

These white birches seem to be glowing in the setting sun.

Hey, there's a gibbous moon in the late afternoon sky.

A mermaid guards the pool.

Thank you, Rachel & Ollie, for a lovely few days in paradise!