Hot Blocks

I've been hot my whole life. Not hot like Jake Gyllenhaal or Salma Hayek, but temperature wise. Growing up in Mississippi where little was air-conditioned and heat combined with oppressive humidity wilted even the most stalwart, I longed for milder climes. The fact that I've lived in the desert since 1965 says something about my fate.

On a recent Saturday, wandering the streets of Manhattan required the coolest of clothes as nearly hundred degree temperatures mixed manically with heinous humidity. Add impossibly tall buildings surrounded by endless concrete and most humans wither quickly. Despite these weather-induced challenges, the three of us welcome a day together.

Still somewhat fatigued from the previous night's birthday celebration as well as a modicum of jet lag, we'd set our ambitious agenda and were determined to enjoy it fully. First, the rental car is sequestered in a Hertz lot at 64th and 2nd. Very handy, given that one of Caitlin's favorite restaurants is a mere 10 or so blocks away. We walk, talk, reminisce about Carol's party. I don't think we realized how warm it was until we reached our destination.



EJ's is famous for its breakfast menu. So many choices are offered that making a final decision is really difficult. An egg white omelet? Regular omelet with feta, spinach and tomatoes? Challah toast? You bet. Multiple glasses of iced tea. A burger for Henry. If we lived nearby, we'd eat here often.



Now we are more than 20 blocks away from the theater where we'll be seeing a matinee performance of "Once." We start walking in that direction but soon realize that time and temperature are conspiring against this endeavor. A taxi whisks us to the Times Square area and provides a few minutes of much appreciated cool bliss.



Once is a new production which garnered multiple Tony Awards this year. Based on the movie of the same name, it traces the true story of Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova and their musical collaboration in Dublin. Inside the theater, we are intrigued by the lack of a curtain as well as the functioning bar on stage. Audience members freely climb the steps, walk to the bar and order drinks. Soon a group of musicians appears, people move to the side of the stage, and the theater resonates with Irish sounds. Though we've seen countless plays, this one is definitely unique in its remarkable creativity.

With no disruption at all, the musical begins. We learn quickly that the on-stage musicians are actually members of the cast. The main characters mingle, speak their lines, play the guitar or piano, sing their songs.

There's an iconic scene from a famous television show in which Lou Grant (Ed Asner) says to Mary Richards (Mary Tyler Moore), "You've got spunk." She smiles that toothy smile. Lou finishes his thought, "I hate spunk." Well, believe me, Lou's character would have hated Ivanka, the female lead in "Once." She is spirited, resolute, supportive, and above all, supremely talented. Maybe Mr. Grant would have actually embraced her after all.

Ivanka reminds us of our new friend, and fellow Czech countrywoman, Vladka. She, too, combines those characteristics attributed to the musically-minded Ivanka. Perhaps it's a Czech thing.

Our first-row mezzanine seats offer an excellent view of the stage. During intermission, the bar is open again and thirsty patrons mingle where cast members
stood moments earlier. We're more enchanted with the play and its presentation than Caitlin but she enjoys the experience nevertheless. Beginning when she was just six and we sat in stage seats at a performance of Cats, she's been a devoted Broadway fan. An important legacy in her life.

By 4:30, the play has ended but the teeming streets are not much more inviting.
We detour to TKTS and with no lines at all, walk away with two tickets for the evening's performance of Nice Work If You Can Get It. Yes, we overdose on Broadway whenever possible.

Off to New York Public Library, we connect with Caitlin's "bestie," Weatherly. Confirming their schedule for later in the day, there's just enough time for a taxi to the stored car, retrieval of her all-purpose traveling bag, and another taxi back to the vicinity of NYPL. Hugs and she's gone.

Deli sandwiches (the very best anywhere are found in New York) sustain us through the hot,crowded streets to our second play of the day. We're excited about seeing the ever-adorable Matthew Broderick and his leading lady, the supremely talented, Kelli O'Hara. With music and lyrics by George and Ira Gershwin, we know we'll be exceedingly entertained. An added bonus is the opportunity to see Estelle Parsons, famous for her role in the classic film, Bonnie and Clyde, as Broderick's character's mother.



The story is....stupid. Quite common for a certain genre of musicals. We're unfazed and chuckle at many of the antics and inane dialogue. Matthew Broderick delivers his lines with polished comedic timing. His shock of black hair behaves independently, enhancing his considerable charm. Kelli O'Hara, tall and slim, belts out her songs and is remindful of a glamorized Ethel Merman. It's a loose, light play, laced with timeless music, written by the master, Mr. Gershwin.

We scoot out of the theater while the talented cast is still bowing. The staff at the Hertz garage goes home for the night very soon and we can't chance having our rental car unavailable for the trip back to our hotel. Yet another taxi transports us to 64th Street. The late night crew seems happy to see us and the congenial employee who drives our car to the exit offers to park it across the street while we scour for a midnight snack. Because we're in Manhattan, food is never far away and restaurants stay open until the wee hours.

Hale and Hearty looks appealing. Henry's traditional turkey/swiss/honey mustard/whole wheat is prepared quickly. I'm weak from coping with the heat and succumb to a rather unseemly-sized slice of chocolate cake. Select a second for my equally famished husband.

Supremely comfortable in our air-conditioned vehicle, the miles to White Plains pass easily. No longer one bit hot, I devour my cake reward when we're in our hotel room and sleep with musical notes accompanying my dreams.

Patterson Party

She's not the kind of person who enjoys a fuss, especially when it's all about her. We didn't listen to her cogent comments and instead chose to ignore her desire to let the special day pass without commemoration.

Sometime in early May, niece Diane sends a broadcast e-mail, announcing a party to which we'd been invited. The date had been set, the location easy....the family home. Diane's mom won't know and thus can't object. The surprise will surely erase any reluctance to celebrate grandly.

During the period prior July 6th, family and friends from around the country selected flights, made hotel reservations, pondered outfits (some of us did) and consciously avoided accidentally indicating that we'd see her soon. In the same time frame, her sweet husband bravely endured his fourth ankle surgery and settled in for a multiple month recovery. Perhaps she was right in insisting that her birthday be eschewed. Her supportive caregiver role required total commitment. Still, we blithely overlooked her wishes.

Diane, ever awesome, handles the complex party logistics with absolute aplomb. Though two jobs absorb nearly all her waking hours, she has somehow found the energy and determination to also enroll in a rigorous week-end culinary school. Adding to this relentless schedule a spectacular party for her mother attests to Diane's limitless love and devotion.

E-mails update everyone as the weeks dwindle, the New York temperature rises to uncomfortable levels, and suitcases are filled for journeys of various lengths. Deftly combining scattered family members with friends from near and far, the guest list focuses on those people whom the honoree cherishes the most. Not one person said 'no' to the invitation. Each felt honored to be included and could not wait to shout 'Surprise!'

On the appointed day, friend Rosie, coincidentally in town from North Carolina, whisked birthday girl Carol away for a shopping jaunt to a favorite hamlet. During the afternoon, the ever thoughtful, soon-to-be-astonished Carol called home several times with suggestions for dinner. Diane firmly dissuades her from getting pizza or anything else. It isn't easy.



As Steve sits immobilized by his recuperating ankle, the house surges with guests.



From Colorado came sister Flory, recently evacuated from her home due to monstrous wildfires. Nephew David flies in from Washington, D.C.



From Oregon, long-time school friend Marina.



From Florida, venerable Aunt Dorothy, hair beautifully coiffed and dressed perfectly in white. Her son, Carol's first cousin Mark, drives from New Jersey.



Niece Caitlin, animated despite a red eye flight from Portland, is delighted to attend. The California contingent: Henry and myself plus Carol's son Keith, his wife, Alisa and daughters Drew and Brooke.



Rosie and husband, Ray, up from North Carolina.



Local friends, most of whom we knew only from their names having been mentioned through the years, mix easily with family members. Chatting, sipping liquids constantly in an effort to withstand the unpleasant weather, we wait impatiently. Finally, we're rewarded. She's downstairs, headed our way. As she reaches the landing, Carol realizes she's been tricked. Her first words are, "I hope the toilets are clean." (They are spotless.) She smiles graciously and ascends.



The party begins.

Thus unfolds an evening that will always resonate joyfully in the guests' memories.
Henry sits with his Aunt Dorothy whom he hasn't seen in many years. He hands her a brittle, yellowed letter. It is something she hasn't seen in 65 years. A charming note which Dorothy wrote to Henry's mom, her sister Sylvia, in the hospital just after Henry's birth. The letter will go to live in Oregon with Caitlin. A special family legacy.



Cousins converse, adroitly transcending decades and distance. They're drawn together by common ancestors, shared snippets of lives lived apart.




Carol happily hugs all assembled, pausing to speak a few words to each person.

Meanwhile, the dining room table is laden with Italian specialties, cold cuts from Sauro's deli, cheeses, fruit, olives and more. Plates are carefully balanced on knees, placed on tables, quickly emptied and then a bit more food selected.



Caitlin's a temporary bartender, dispensing white and red wines.



Diane never pauses as she continues to bring an endless array of food from the kitchen and yet somehow neglects to eat anything herself. Her smile is radiant. She knows instinctively that she's created a miraculous event. We are so terribly proud of her. Her parents glow with good reason.



Employing her culinary expertise, Diane creates decadent desserts. She could open a restaurant and be assured that everyone at the party would be instant customers.



Sometime after dinner is finished, the youngest guests play catch in the spacious backyard.



Wandering out to the deck, I see our great-niece, Brooke, standing at the top of the stairs. I gently suggest she join her contemporaries in the yard. She demurs and confesses softly that, though she was once shown how to throw a spiral, she doesn't remember the details. I tell her to wait right there. Inside, I locate Henry and apprise him of the situation. He'll gladly serve as the temporary coach. In a very few minutes, Brooke has learned the spiral technique and is throwing hard. She's a natural athlete.



Silly putty hasn't lost its appeal and youngsters of all ages squish the goo into newspapers to make patterns or create long strings of pink. Multi-generational fun.



Seeing Henry and his two sisters together is such a treat. Their shared childhood evokes many stories and much laughter. I think about their parents, Murry and Sylvia, and imagine that somewhere they are smiling as they observe this special night.

We realize that the hours are precious, that almost certainly this whole group of people will not ever be together again. The Kaner and Weiss descendants congregate on the porch, creating a photo for posterity.



Several of us vainly attempt to capture all the guests in one people-packed photo. We settle for several views.



For more than a few, the hours are especially poignant. I, for one, am so grateful that we've assembled to celebrate Carol and not because a loved one has been lost. I'm also reminded that upon marrying Henry, I gained a new family that embraced me totally from the onset, deep Southern roots notwithstanding. A unique and special group of individuals who have enriched my life, added immeasurably to my years and loved me without restraint. As someone who places the highest value on family and truly cannot count all her cousins, I'm profoundly privileged to be 'married-in.'

The party in Patterson owes its genesis, as well as its genius, to niece Diane. We celebrate her with love.

Missing Carol's extraordinary zero birthday celebration would have been unthinkable. I believe she feels the same way.

Sunny Daze

"Will you be home at the end of June?" she asked. "Yes." we answered. Thus began a conversation exploring the availability of our guestroom for two traveling friends. Several discussions later, the number of guests grew to four. The Oregonians simply couldn't miss an opportunity to reunite, albeit briefly, with two young ladies whom they like a lot. The promise of triple-digit days and cloud-free azure skies may have been an extra incentive.

On Thursday last, we found ourselves in Orange County shopping at my favorite mall with hours to squander. Amply fortified by cheese raviolis (Henry) and a chicken pomodoro panini (1/2 only) paired with a superb spinach salad (for me), we (mostly me) wandered through multiple stores, seeking nothing in particular. With a text alert notifying us that the Long Beach bound flight would be several hours late departing Portland Airport, we improvise an itinerary. After a short drive, we park near the water in Newport Beach and walk to a dock where we watch wave walkers paddle by and party boats glide toward the twilight. The sea air is so refreshing that I wished I could bottle a bit of it to take home to the desert.

By the time we arrive at the designated airport, it appears that the only people inside are busy cleaning bathrooms and restaurants. The very late flight from Portland will be the last to land that night. At about 11:30 PM, two tired familiar people emerge with other weary passengers and we leave immediately for home.

Caitlin's agenda for the late June visit includes sun, swim, sun, swim, eat, swim, sleep when absolutely necessary. She brings multiple swimsuits and sundresses and little else.



Having spent almost two decades' worth of summers in this house, she has an intense affection for water which isn't diminished at all by her current northwestern address. Bobby, though less accustomed to continuously available watery pursuits, also enjoys the pool and spa.

With three much younger 'swim buddies' and an assortment of pool floats, the sun soaking stretches through the hours.



In late afternoon, the doorbell finally rings. They've arrived. Madeleine and Sandy, here from Malmo, Sweden. Lovely blondes with the most charming accents, they're special friends who saw Caitlin and Bobby in Sweden about a year ago. Madeleine, an identical twin, is a librarian and the editor of an on-line music website. Sandy teaches elementary school. Their current trip includes stops in San Diego, Los Angeles (especially Venice Beach), Las Vegas, the Grand Canyon and Flagstaff. With so much driving and sightseeing, Sunset Way is a welcome respite.

Displayed in the guest room is a beautiful sign proclaiming "Valkomna" ('welcome' in Swedish).



This thoughtful gift was crafted by Hanna, Jessy and Maddy. It is greeted by wide smiles and maybe a bit of nostalgia for Madeleine and Sandy's native country.

Towels tossed across the swing or a patio chair await dripping young adults who leave the pool or spa reluctantly.




The foursome is firmly bonded and immediately conversations unfold about mutual friends, sights recently seen, the omnipresent heat, and how delightful the deep water feels.



Gathered in Henry's office, music soothes the effects of almost too much sun for four guests and a little later, spinning images promise payouts large and small.



Mexican food at Rio Azul provides an introduction to beloved local cuisine. The next evening there's a bar-be-que with six of us settling comfortably around our venerable dining room table.



We tell Madeleine and Sandy that they are the guests who have traveled the greatest distance to dine with us. That's quite a record for our thirty-five years together.

Lemon Apricot Cake, a family standard, is requested and provided. It is an all-purpose cake which means eat it anytime. Take home the remainder. Share it with friends.



We open gifts from Sweden and find sweet licorice, and a fridge magnet that will remind us of Madeleine and Sandy each day. Caitlin is tickled with her Malmo snow globe but most especially by the cans of cider carried in luggage thousands of miles to an appreciative recipient.




Bobby can't wait to try his new insulated grilling glove. Madeleine and Sandy are such thoughtful young ladies.



In two days, each of us has time to share snippets of our respective lives.



Sunday breakfast at Lulu's can't be missed, regardless of the brevity of the visit.



So soon it is time to depart. But first, photos in Henry's vivid red XLR. Piercing sun and satisfied smiles.



Group pictures help memoralize an exceptional week-end.



We're dazed that the visit passed so quickly.