Saturday, April 29, 2006
Well, it's a whole new year here at Bellemaison. I was out walking in the garden this morning and the Chows were full of things to talk about. For instance, Lent: we are so happy that freaking Lent is over. How much reflection and repentance can The Chow Nation stand?! The beautiful garden gate that Sylvie chewed in February: Grandma it was a whole miscommunication; I had no idea you wanted to save that; it was when the cable was out and I couldn't watch Oprah and I was really bored; besides I repented during Lent; besides, Cliffie will fix it now, today. The hydrangeas: geez, you are going to have to call it the hydrangea forest this year; you are going to do a super hard prune, right? The 3000 tulip bulbs I planted last fall: so. Grandma. Those tulips. Where are they you say? We don't know; we're trying find out. But remember even though you haven't seen one tulip, tulip bulbs are highly toxic and detrimental to the health of the Chow Nation; if we had eaten them, we wouldn't have made it through Lent. Easter: even though you were out of town, leaving us home alone, you wouldn't think you would forget the new year's tennis balls. geez, grandma. Shh, shh, shh, shh, on tiptoes, super quiet now: here's a mother duck nesting on 12 beautiful eggs.; isn't she beautiful, Grandma? You can barely see her in her nest...we have her on around the clock surveillance in case those freaking racoons spot her. But if the crows come, we're counting on you to get out the air rifle.
Those darn Chows are Easter Chows and alleluia is their song.
The 'Kan EWA
Thursday, April 20, 2006
It is a magnificent blue day here on the Cape. Spring is in full bloom. We sat on Main Street with clam chowdah watching the MA tourists descend on the town with their kids and were fascinated with those mothers with two kids and one nanny. Must have quite a life going if you can't take care of your own kids, all two of them.
We love the small/tourist town collisions with the MA sophistication/we stahted this countahy, fall in line stuff. They have a car museum not to far from downtown; costs $8 to get in and as a gesture of provocation and seduction, the car museum people park a gleaming Bentley, a magnificent vintage Rolls Royce, a gorgeous racing Audi and a beautifull 240-Z right at the curb so you can see 'em everytime you pass by. Unlike any other car museums I have seen, these cars are all fire engine red. True! Every car in the extensive collection is...fire engine red. When you walk on the beach, the locals with dogs will visit with you and inquire about your stay politely in a tolerant if courteous manner but never fail to leave you with the name of their dog: Lord Byron Blue, Shamrock, Fitzgerald....There are at least ten Dunkin' Donuts in this small town. The Church of Christ Scientist is enormous here in Hyannisport, just like in every other Massachusetts town. The protestant churches are all gorgeous, well-kept and with magnificent steeples. I have been fascinated with the star iconography on the houses and outbuildings and my religious history scholar in the family tells me that it's a Christian icon, noting the guiding light. They're very cool. And so much nicer than fish.
And so it goes. We've been here one week and the seams and creases are starting to smooth out. I could easily spend another week here, drinking Paul Newman's Own Lemonade, wandering around town and foraging and walking the fabulous beach and playing Sudoku until I can't see. But alas, it's not meant to be. We leave Hyannisport in the morning for, well, stay tuned. Life is full of surprises, isn't it?
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
On an aiport run last week, we went over to Cambridge to have lunch at one of my all-time favorites, Bartley's Hamburgers. Located it Harvard Square, it's a classic college joint with seriously great bar food. Sweet potato fries, onion rings and truly great hamburgers. It's your joint, Yankee style though, and it plays out like this: Male Adult Customer next to us: Where is your bathroom? Waitress, avoiding eye contact, walking past: We don't have any. MAC, undaunted, on the next walk-by: What should I do with my three children? She, still making no eye contact, and in serious contemplation of her pen: Public bathroom. MAC, half rising , furiously pursuing eye contact, WHERE ARE THE PUBLIC BATHROOMS? She, shrugging, walking off: Two blocks down.
The walls are littered with truly great bumperstickers, posters and memorabilia and the whole place is a sensual bombardment of the most comforting nature. I see a poster of a New England Patriot throwing the football and from the angle of my seat, I can't tell if it's Drew Bledsoe or Tom Brady. I say to the waitstaff, hey, is that Drew Bledsoe? He says to the other waitstaff, scurrying by, Who the hell is Drew Bledsoe?
I say see? there it is. If you had gone to a good school like Stanford, you'd know exactly who Drew Bledsoe is. He moves in, becomes personal, conspiratorial and says, You know, I really gave Stanford a good look. (big, kind smile) But ultimately, I settled for a junior college about an hour north of there, because it was a better school. He stands back, folds his arms, still smiling and waits for that remark to settle in before executing his final lob:
(sigh) But in the end, I just couldn't handle California, so that's why I"m at Harvard.
Hard to say what's better, the menu or the burgers. Here are a few excerpts of the menu:
THE TED KENNEDY a plump, liberal amount of burger...
THE JOHN KERREY he voted this best burger before he voted against it
THE PEOPLE'S REPUBLIC OF CAMBRIDGE topped with cole slaw and russian dresing
THE GEORGE BUSH JR not bad for a C student
THE LARRY SUMMERS the Harvard women can eat this too
THE BILL CLINTON the new heart loves Hilliary
THE ARNOLD SCHWARZENEGGER you'll be back
THE AL FRANKEN they all lie
THE VIAGRA riiise to the occasion
Monday, April 17, 2006
It's Patriot's Day here in MA and I'm not altogether sure it's not an official holiday of the BoSox Nation. Whooowhee! What a home opening. We set out for Fenway from the Cape, right after Mass, in order to stop in at Petite Roberto , the bistro, to celebrate Easter morning. It was a perfect French bistro and to show he was fully in the moment, Joe Montana ordered the rabbit! I went with my old standby, the poached eggs on lettuce and bacon salad. It was all prepared to absolute perfection and we finished with exquisite coffee and pastry, the likes of which I have not had since in Paris last. What a way to kick off the finish vestiges of Lent!
We made our way into Fenway, the quintessential old-school American ballpark. The thing I like about Fenway is that it, like Wrigley, is in a real neighborhood; you don't drive and drive to an industrial part of town that is dotted with parking garages and assorted support service infrastructures and then take the elevator to street level and trot into the field. You park ($30 for the afternoon) and walk through the neighborhood, on a pilgrimage to a sublime sporting outdoor experience. The stores, the shops, the bars, the vendors are all open for business and for partying and people talk and shout freely to each other. Fenway has such a celebration thing going with their baseball. You turn on to Yawkey Ave and it's blocked off for the day, where there is a huge street party going on, people drinking beer, eating, laughing, updating their wardrobes, celebrating their unique existence as a members of the BoSox Nation. They are always singularly happy and you absorb their joy as fans in a moment. You are also immediately aware of true baseball heritage this team has given to the American fans; baseball tradition is Fenway and the BoSox and Fenway and the BoSox are baseball tradition. There is nothing new or recent about this team; the Babe played here. And on this Easter Sunday, he smiled widely as 2006 baseball kicked into low gear in Boston.
Loved the Johnny Damon fans that never say die; there were lots. Another thing that's really cute is how the Red Sox fans will not be commited to a particular color, say red or blue. They wear pink, celery, and any color associated with Peoples' Republic of Ireland--just in case, you are deaf, dumb and blind and missed that Boston is deep and wide in Irish Catholics. The ESPN Without sports ad campaign played out the back of a BoSox shirt as this: Without sports, I'd still hate New York.
And do you know what the Easter Bunny does after he delivers all the eggs? He goes to Fenway for the game, where he drinks beer and calls his friends on his cellphone to report back!
Boston people have a great sense of humor and a guy sitting behind us told us that he lost a fortune on the Super Bowl because the only thing he hates more than the Yankees are the Steelahs. People are darling and friendly; we walked out in front of a Mariners' family complete with their PNW stroller, toting the little one. The Boston fans were quite friendly with them and interested in what they were doing in Boston on Easter Sunday (on their way to Disney World). Actually, it was the Mariners' fans that were ill at ease and a tiny bit stand-offish. And so it goes. Oh, yeah, and the Rem-dogs are wicked good, too.
Saturday, April 15, 2006
Saturday, April 08, 2006
As I look down the deserted ravine of office buildings on this Saturday morning, I can see my destination looming on the horizon, even though I look west. It is a linear, methodical journey that I now plod, pock marked with compliance mandates, inevitable obstacles, and treacherous potentials. Spring waits for me on the other end and if I listen hard, in my gaze I can hear them over there, singing. And the air there is soft, too.
The 'Kan EWA
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
Monday, April 03, 2006
I am in quite a fix.
There is a another person in my life that is bringing me ever closer to my own Jerusalem, despite my best protestations, sturdy stubbornness, haughty righteousness. A miscommunication occurred, exists; this particular person wounded me deeply. The person claims it was I would threw the first stone and that the wound was inflicted in self-defense. I have turned my back on this person and on reconciliation, several times, because I*am*right. I mean, who needs the pain that comes with vulnerability and giving yourself up to a certain situation or person? I have so enjoyed being wounded at this person's hand and recounting the injustice served upon my fair head. But now, the time is at hand....
So less than two week of Lent remain; I have to fish or cut bait. I not only must have the Will to walk in the light, but the Grace to accept the light that falls on my path. I need humility, I need humility, I need humility.
The 'Kan EWA
Saturday, April 01, 2006
In punishment the LORD sent among the people saraph serpents,which bit the people so that many of them died.Then the people came to Moses and said,“We have sinned in complaining against the LORD and you.Pray the LORD to take the serpents away from us.”So Moses prayed for the people, and the LORD said to Moses,“Make a saraph and mount it on a pole,and whoever looks at it after being bitten will live.”Moses accordingly made a bronze serpent and mounted it on a pole,and whenever anyone who had been bitten by a serpent looked at the bronze serpent, he lived. Numbers 21:6-9
I love the imagry of the Old Testament; the garden, the ark, the rainbow, the burning bush, the tower, the dreams and this, the caduceus. I have always wondered where the icon of the medical field came from, that serpant on a pole, and it turns out, from Moses himself. It also turns out, that with a humble heart, we can be healed by the bitter consequences of our darkest side, if we are brave enough to lean into them and look that snake right in the eye.
This week might be a big week; soon I am to meet a person that has recently come into my life through no aspiration of my own. This person has done a heinous thing, a thing truly and really terrible. The thing is a grand slam for the Dark. It's the type of thing that to accomplish it, you would have to be as dark as you could be yourself, with only the absolute minimum of light present in order to execute. To do this thing the person did, you'd need to be dark and it would need to be utterly dark.
I am not afraid of the person. I am not afraid of the thing. But I am anxious about what lies ahead--not only for the person, but for me. When will I begin to understand? What do I need to help? What will happen or who will intervene so that somehow I will summon the wisdom to say or be something that will matter? That will make me an agent of healing and redemption?
I do not know much about the thing and I know less about the person. But I do know it's going to be the roughest, trickiest, most treacherous time of the person's life. And I'm to walk along. I am grateful for what this week will bring and for what last week brought, with every single person I saw giving me energy and courage and love. I need your prayers, to awaken my ears and open my eyes. Don't forget me--it feels like I really am walking into the valley of the shadow....
i thank you God for most this amazing day
i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes
(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday;this is the birth
day of life and love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)
how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any--lifted from the no
of all nothing--human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?
(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)
The 'Kan EWA