November travel log

It’s been a while since we’ve contributed any written work to this blog. We started exploring the use of home video to tell a story in place of prose, and it was a lot of fun to chronicle our experiences this past spring and summer by the visual media. We are in the closing stanza for this year and wanted to publish a video chronology and brief story of a fun weekend this November. We are fortunate to have our children in locals that are far enough away to justify a “ROAD TRIP!”, but not so far away that logistics become a major decision issue. Best of all…a visit their way gets us to our favorite city.

Daughter #3, Nichole, now works in Staten Island, and lives in Manhattan. We joined her for a benefit dinner Thursday night after a mad run down from Lowell. The Dr. Theodore Atlas Foundation contributes financial and material support directly to many people needing help, and we are proud Nichole is a part of that organization and effort. Our oldest daughter Christina joined us; traveling in from Pennington, NJ. So we had our little Bates gang there for the soiree. We got to dress up, and meet a celebrity or two. The dinner was pretty good considering it was hotel food and they had to serve 800+. People of well deserved notoriety were on hand from the sports, entertainment, business, and under worlds. The highlight was getting a couple of pictures with Tony Sirico, aka Paulie “Walnuts” of the Sopranos. He is in real life like the guy in the fictional series. Life imitating art? Or did the producers and casting director just pick the real deal for the job? Eve and Christina had some fun taking a picture with him while Erik held Tony’s drink like a low end gangster flunky. After the shoot, he asked Erik with a pointed finger and raised eyebrow “You didn’t fuck my drink, right?”

It was an open bar for the night, so Erik came out fast with dry vodka martinis as his fuel for the evening’s festivities. Eve, Christina and Nikki were more careful in their choices of libations. Later on Eve and Nikki carried on with the glitterati at the hotel bar while Christina demurred to get her beauty sleep. Erik had to retire.

We were staying in Staten Island for Thursday night’s benefit dinner, and scheduled to check out Saturday morning, with the exception of Christina who checked out the next morning to return to NJ. The remaining three of the Bates clan decided to kill some time in Manhattan on Friday and rode the Staten Island ferry over. This ride is part of Nikki’s daily commute between her work place and apartment.

Nikki’s building is quite attractive. We took pictures of the lobby entrance, which is “TA DYE FOH!” Pastel ceiling frescoes and clay friezes on either wall, with spot lighting, present a classy vibe to the initial impression. We rode the elevator up to her floor and took a tour of her place. It is quite spacious for a three person apartment; contemporary in layout and finish. We rode the elevator back down to the beautifully appointed terrace on the 25th (?) floor. From this perch one can overlook Battery Park Place at the southern tip of Manhattan, and Staten Island across the bay with the Statue of Liberty to the right of the field of view. A tenant can rent the terrace for a party. It’s big enough to hold maybe twenty-five to thirty people, and still fit a four piece jazz combo. However, a glance over the chest-high stone wall, and the l-o-o-o-o-n-n-n-n-g way down gave us pause. It would not be the place for a wild, dance-on-the-tables-alcohol-fueled party. But if there is ever a place that should be nominated for upscale cache for the single person in the big city, this is it.

We descended to street level to begin our unplanned adventure and walked north. The joy of wandering down town became muted during our walk past Ground Zero. Out front and across the street from Nikki’s apartment building is a wrought bronze work that stood in front of the Twin Towers complex. It was damaged in the catastrophe and salvaged as a monument. It stands as a stark reminder of the fragility of things we take for granted, and the exemplar of the human spirit. Construction at Ground Zero is in full swing, but it looks like a big job for some time to come.

A couple of train exchanges later we were in the Greenwich Village. We managed to stall our day by simply wandering around with only a vague sense of any destination. A deep resonance happens to those of us in our mid life years when we immerse ourselves in the bohemian vibe. The 60’s are alive and well. So aren’t the 70s, 80s, 90s, and new millennium for that matter. The riot of sidewalk displays along Aston Street is colorful, creative, and semi-legal. But we didn’t “get” one particular store that had us gape-mouthed as we walked by. In the window display there were huge stuffed evil clowns, broken dolls stacked up by the hundreds, and…..what could only be described as a human form completely encased in a black rubber bag locked up with zippers. It was suspended from the ceiling by a chain attached to a slowly rotating turnstile. The bored looking store attendants standing outside the store front doorway smoking cigarettes were festooned with tattoos, piercings, chain belts, black clothes and spiked hair. Our two groups looked each other over and probably came to a mutual conclusion: they must have stepped off a ship from Mars. There is some regret that a photo opportunity did not come to mind.

Our highlight for that Friday night was dropping in at Groove NYC to hear some live funk-soul music. We had to eat bar food and drink a couple of rounds while waiting for the band to come on, but it was all good just enjoying the locals synchronize their karaoke to music videos on wide screens around the bar. Eve and Nikki looked like deer in the headlights after coming in the door because of the crowd and energy. They eventually relaxed and started bobbing to the beat. The evening’s entertainment was a band called Soul Survivors. They were fun, funky, and tight. Manhattan provides a lot of quality entertainment, so a band coming on stage has to have the chops, even if the place is just a bar.

Later that night our little group took the train back downtown, then the ferry back to Staten Island. We kept the car at the terminal parking lot all day so it was a simple matter to take our own transportation to the hotel. Nikki came along to stay on the futon in our room. We had an early day planned for Saturday at the Dr. Theodore Atlas Foundation headquarters. The head of the foundation is Teddy Atlas Jr., the famous boxing trainer to Mike Tyson in Tyson’s early days. Teddy Jr. established the foundation in his father’s honor. Teddy Junior’s celebrity and contacts have enabled the foundation sufficient financial support to provide assistance every year since its inception. We came to the foundation’s headquarters with Nikki to help hand out turnkey dinners, and it felt very rewarding to help a good cause with our labor.

By mid day Saturday all three of us headed off to visit Christina and Alaa in Pennington NJ. Nikki took her own car because she was going to be heading in a different direction home from us upon our departure to Lowell on Sunday afternoon.

Saturday evening after arrival at Alaa and Christina's we gathered up food stuff at the local market. The menu item for dinner was Erik’s three-cheese French Onion Soup. Erik has a lot of fun making the soup but is very particular about how it is to be made…from scratch. Everyone enjoyed the soup and a lively round of chatter. We did not stay up too much longer after dinner as we were fairly exhausted from the previous 36 hours.

Sunday morning greeted us to partly cloudy skies and a cool breeze. Nothing to do but sit back play our CDs and watch the landscape go by.

October Frame Of Mind

Hot Fun In The Summer Time

Eve

I was remiss in not including a nice photo I took of Eve before the Chris Fitz show last Saturday.

So here it is.

Beauty comes from within.

Fresh Breeze

Though I will always love the winter season, I am glad to be in the middle of spring right now. Some mental house cleaning was/is in order. And I am more than glad March is behind us. April was OK but a bit on the damp side. Anyway, E and I didn’t let the post-winter malaise slow us down. We got back out to what we love to do and that included the live music scene, and rolling the paths on bicycles.

We've posted before on a place we like to hit up for the live music experience, the Acton Jazz Café. We’re promoting it again here because we’d like everyone to support this little venue. Saw a rockin’ blues group there a week ago: The Chris Fitz Band. Live blues are our cup of tea for getting loose. I chatted up the proprietor of the café, Gwen Vivian, who is a professional vocalist.


She has managed to keep the place open for 14 years…behind a bank of all places, and in doing so has not only enriched the community, but also provided a forum for other musicians to share their creative works. If you get a chance to catch a show there say hello to her, Gwen is very accessible and friendly. What a nice cozy feel the place has. Gwen has a website for the AJC so you can see what the upcoming line up looks like. You can find it at http://www.actonjazzcafe.com/. The mission statement she has put up on the website for the AJC says it all. Come on, what are you waiting for?

On a lesser note, I have to admit that, somehow, every time I drive there I manage to overlook the building and have to bang a gangster style turn on two wheels just to make the parking lot. Folded the tires over trying to make the drive way last time. Missed. But I got across the front walk way and lawn alright. E hates my driving. I say she is a nervous nelly. It was night time. And the lot was dark..

E and I have been talking about writing a little bit more about our enjoyment with the various forms of art that not only include music, but the visual arts, and dance, and things one can also experience through the tactile senses like jewelry and other hand crafts. I guess it’s really about creativity. Come to think of it, E does interior design and decorating, so I think it will be cool to cover some of the styles of homes she has done in the area.

I envy those who have the talent to create something beautiful. So maybe we have a chance to write something interesting about those who create, and their works, over the next several posts. For our own part, we can share what we experience. We are definitely going to fire the Latin dancing back up. There is an old post from a blog E and I used to write to, but discontinued. At that time we were active with Latin dancing and had a short story to tell of one night on the practice floor. We'll put that one up next time.

For this post we’d like to share a little bit of what we took away from last Saturday evening. We can’t offer much about the artist, Chris Fitz, because we didn’t get a chance to talk with him. But he’s a Boston local who has been plying and refining his craft for a while now. He and his band definitely have the chops. Enjoy.

A good doggie

My lovely golden retriever, Libby, passed away on Tuesday March 30. She was 12 years old. Though her health was in rapid decline this year, the actual cause of her death was a tumble down a flight of stairs in our house. She suffered a spinal cord injury and there was no hope of her recovery. Watching her helplessly as she went into convulsions from shock, and then struggle to get up, was one of the most painful things I have ever experienced. More so when our eyes met, and I knew that she knew she was seriously injured.

She would have been 13 on June 24 of this year, but a rapid drop off in her health as we entered this New Year convinced me she was not going to make it that far. I don’t know why her health deteriorated so fast. It became obvious when family members started noticing she was not eating. By January or February of this year I noticed she could not even make the 15 minute walk around the block that we used to take in the morning and evening. She got slower and slower, and by the last few weeks could only go down our street about 40 yards to do her business.

My doggie used to greet me from the porch when I came home from work; getting up spritely to wag her tail at my approach up the drive way. But that changed and she no longer even acknowledged my presence as I came up the porch steps. I suspect she was in physical discomfort but it was never apparent to me if it was more than sore joints. I could tell her hips were bothering her by the way she walked, but there was always an uneasy feeling within me that she had, as of late, more problems that were unseen. Libby never complained.

I will miss her, and I now feel bad that I was always complaining about the fact she shed all over the house, and smelled like a walking barn yard. I have pictures of her and a short video to keep in remembrance of her. But my fondest memories will be of the times we used to go to the park and run around like kids together, and how much she loved the ocean on those very rare times we included her in a trip to the beach. I wish we had done more of that together.



Our daughter Nichole brought home a little surprise last year. A Yorkie named Zoi.

Libby tolerated the interloper well enough but kept her dignified distance from the little dust mop. Zoi would nip at Libby now and then to get Libby to play, but nothing doing, when the old girl was good and comfortable she wasn’t going to move for anybody. I would discover this fact every time I would get up in the middle of the night to make a visit to the bathroom, only to stumble and trip over her inert mass sprawled at the foot of the bed. I would just about break a leg, or pop a hernia, gyrating through evasive maneuvers and recovery. The dog wouldn’t even lift her head to see if I made out all right. In an earlier day she would have used that bit of slap stick to go to the door in anticipation of going out to romp around.















Libby was one of the best friends I ever had, and there won’t be another one like her again.

Blue Bird Day

The conifer stood upright but slightly bowed under its crystalline coat of snow. Not even the slightest breeze disturbed its reverie near the top of Lincoln Peak. The sun caressed the observer’s face with gentle warmth, and somewhere a bird was trilling a song of joy for the beauty of the day. Far off in the distance other peaks wore their white mantles proudly.

It was great to break free this weekend after seven weeks of steady effort taking care of professional and family responsibilities. This weekend was a Top 10 day for the season, and a great opportunity to recharge the mind and body.

The Holy Grail for many a skier is the chance to get on the mountain after a fresh dump of snow and hammer the slopes and glades on a bright sunny day. When the sky is clear of any clouds it is called a Blue Bird Day. Welcome to Nirvana. Saturday, March 6 will go down as a banner day for many skiers who had a chance to get up the mountains. Up our way in the Green Mountains the day offered bright sunshine, temperatures in the mid forties, no wind, and nearly four feet of “the fresh” under foot. Sunday was just as good.

How snow feels under foot is a quality skiers and riders readily perceive when sliding down the mountain. Natural snow is always the focal point on this subject, as opposed to man-made, because of the perceived silkiness of “real” snow. There is some truth to this perception according to some analyses that posit the shape and variety of flakes from the clouds can’t be duplicated out of a snow gun. The stuff coming out of the snow gun is generally a rod-like shape and offers a completely different set of frictional qualities from a flake that has a much more open and airy structure. Temperatures of the air and mountain surfaces can, of course, alter the structure of snow crystals, as does the mechanical action of a board gliding across the surface. Put in a little radiant heating from the sun, and you can get a whole different feel between one day and the next, or even between the morning and afternoon runs. But I think it is safe to say that one of the most appreciated snow conditions is that soft, malleable, ball-bearing type of mix that is commonly referred to as “corn snow”. It is the hallmark of a great spring skiing day. And that is just what Mother Nature served up this weekend. You can glide on it, bash through it, or carve in it. It doesn’t matter how you use the media to get your thrill because corn snow is so…accommodating…for lack of any better description.

I have skied in temperatures of minus 15 ºF that were coupled with a high wind factor to produce an effective wind chill of minus 60 ºF. But the real point of interest I recall was the astringent quality of the snow; an almost palpable metallic feel, as it squeaked under the pressure of my skis. I don’t know what is different about the flakes in very cold snow, but I do know it is sometimes difficult to glide over if you don’t have the right kind of wax. And that is the kind of big secret professional racers and their equipment people know all about.

Powder snow of the kind known as “cold smoke” is no doubt the most sought after kind of snow, that is unfortunately so often absent from Eastern skiing. It’s low water content can make it as fluffy as baby powder, and it has a distinct feeling that is hard to articulate here, but I can say floating in deep powder is surreal. It's like a state of suspension with the undulating rhythm of ocean swells. We may see it once or twice a season in New England so one has to be ready or lucky to hit it right away because it is the least durable of all types of snow, and will get shredded and packed down by the army of skiing locals by 10:00 AM.

The sublime experience of dashing through waste deep dry snow that billows up and curls over your head to encapsulate you in your own private white room is without comparison. If I were speaking about such an experience out West it might be just another day at the office, but to have had exactly that thing happen in New Hampshire some years ago is forever burned into my memory. It is so rare to catch those conditions here in the east.

I remember another year where a day of spring skiing was particularly beautiful. Snow clinging to branch and bush transformed to glassine dew drops under a thaw/freeze cycle from the previous afternoon and evening. I left the ski area boundary and skied down a partially overgrown route to find a glittering corridor of diamonds all about me. The sunlight breaking through the bowed canopy, and off of a billion facets, produced an almost hallucinogenic effect. The refracted spectrum seemed to whiz past me during the descent that was reminiscent of that psychedelic scene from “2001 A Space Odyssey” as the astronaut is taken across time and space by the alien monolith.

Back to the present, E was content to relax at the lodge, and take in some rays while I played on the mountain. The outdoor patio was the place to be, but a seat was not to be found. Some people take a few runs then do the Euro scene: drinking, eating, chatting, and laughing the day away behind dark sunglasses. A spring day like this one brings out the crowds, and if you let it, the scene can crush the groove.

The trick is to go with the flow, chat up people while you’re in line, and wrap you head around the fact this beats work by a country mile.

It is not possible to really get a feel for the steepness of a slope from a photograph unless it is well beyond a 45º pitch. But here is a shot from one of the double diamond runs I like at Sugarbush. It’s called Ripcord. The skier has the choice of skiing the billiard table, or lumps.

After a few slope runs it was time to venture into the woods. Here is a shot of the entry.

Once inside I was greeted with the unpleasant reality that the snow had not softened up. Let me tell you, skiing frozen snow with trees all about is something of a chore. So I finished that run and stayed out on the sun drenched trails for the rest of the day.

Moguls have always been a challenge since I didn’t learn to ski until I was nearly thirty years old. But time, patience, and practice has enabled me to ski some bump trails. Bumps provide that extra up and down, side to side, challenge to go along with the forward motion. I prefer the thrill of speed and gravitate to steep and smooth. I have skied Tuckerman’s Head Wall and can say that a steep descent has its own risk/reward that is completely different from a bump run. But corn snow is so easy to manage; what would otherwise be a tribulation coming down a run over “firm” lumps, can become accessible to most people of average ability.

On a lark I thought to video a run down one of the really fun twisting and winding intermediate trails on Sugarbush. It is a fine first run warm up, or ride back to the lodge on rubber legs at the end of the day. I figured I’d share this with cousins Dino, Rachel, and Katie, and her beau Chris, since I’ve been talking up having them join us in Vermont this year. Maybe this will be the motivator, so the 3 minute video is on Erik’s FB. I didn’t have one of those really cool video cams you can strap onto your helmet (hint, hint, E), so I had to hold a camera in one hand the whole time, thereby rendering my poles useless. Next time I video the run it will be with a helmet cam, at full speed first thing in the morning so I won’t have to dodge the tourists.

After the day was done E and I went and made reservations at one of the better eateries in town called Flatbread. The menu revolves around the pizza dish, but on a very thin crust. Everything is made fresh to order, and the cooking is so good the line for reservations cues up before 4:00 PM. We were early enough to secure the first duce at 5:00. Spending time relaxing with E over a nice glass of wine or lager, and decent meal, is part of the whole get-away thing I look forward to on these weekends.

In a quiet moment without conversation between us I noticed the cooking staff doing their thing. The preparation area is right next to the brick oven, that is, in turn, right out there front and center to the main dining area. Patrons can watch their meal being made. I’ll tell you what, that three person team had their manufacturing process down solid. Although all three were in constant motion, their efficiency was fascinating to watch. Each person knew the upstream and downstream partner’s progress, and there never was a stoppage in the one hour I spied on them. I swear they had a Kan Ban system going. They did not start cooking until the first order hit at 5:05, but I don’t think any table waited more than 10 minutes for an order to be delivered to the table. And the place was packed by 5:30.

Later in the evening E and I took a L-O-O-O-N-G soak in the hot tub under a sparkling night sky. Have you ever observed the winter sky from the mountains? The colder and cleaner air allows for less distortion and masking, so you are greeted with a view many times more impressive than what can be seen from the suburbs or city. We sat in the dark and let the jets work their magic. The spell was broken as one of our house mates slipped quietly into the tub with us. We were only happy to share. Later we were joined by our host.

The evening wound down with a movie on the upstairs home theater. The movie was brought by a friend of one of our other house mates. Pat is a photographer/cinematographer for a production company out of the Jay Peak area of Vermont. He was good enough to share the latest ski flick his company produced with some of his footage. Ski flicks are not a new thing, so the challenge is to find a way of presenting the material from a fresh perspective. Some of the tree skiing scenes were mind blowing, as I could not fathom how a person could ski through such densely packed woods at such speed without a major wreck. And one of those crazy guys actually threw a front flip while blasting through a tight tree stand. Unbelievable. It was a great way to close the evening, so E and I excused ourselves from the gang and descended to our room.

Sunday greeted us with more sunshine and chirping birds. I really could go for some more snow, but the spring thing is starting to take hold.

Ciao.

E

Where the Heart Is

We’ve been away from our blog for nearly two months due to the demands of work, and a couple of family events.

Launching a new product to the market place is always a heavy lift, with long hours and a setback or two. But I think we are on our way this year. I really like the fact we are delivering something to improve the outcomes of cardiac medical procedures. If we can help improve the odds of recovery in a patient, and protect the physician’s health from exposure to radiation, then our team can be proud of what has been accomplished.

On the personal front, our winter plans for playing up in the mountains took a hit, and my mother suffered a severe internal infection that was compounded with a minor stroke in the left cerebellum. I am now helping her recover along with the wonderful staff of a local assisted living facility. The old girl turned 90 this past Monday, and except for a little wobbliness, she’s still got some miles left. God bless her.

The absolute high note of our recent experiences was the engagement party E and I hosted for our oldest daughter and her fiancé. Kudos must go to my better half for planning the whole thing, holding it at a lovely venue in town, and pulling the shindig off without a hitch. The fact the inclement weather the whole week decided to take a breather for the party only convinced me that someone was smiling on us. We held the party at a historical home in Lowell called the Nesmith House. It is beautifully decorated and spacious enough to hold 80+ people, yet retains the intimate and classy vibe of a petit mansion.

Our caterers served a nice champagne and a pleasing variety of appetizers and confections. 

The happiness E and I felt was only amplified knowing that everyone was enjoying themselves too.

Here is a picture from the party featuring the affianced couple, sisters, E and me.

You know Christmas is over......

….when you find Santa face down in the snow…sleeping off his New Year’s drunk.

Anyway, Happy New Year to all! Hope the weekend was fun and entertaining for everyone. If you’re a winter-lover at heart you’ve got to be happy about the season so far. And how about that snow?! We even had some of it around for December to give the whole Christmas week that old-time New England feel. We attended a great New Year’s Eve party at our neighbors’ beautiful home. It was fun to meet new people, share good food and drink, a few laughs, and some interesting banter. A big “thank you” to Tom and Victoria from the both of us!

The New Year found us back up in Vermont. We really enjoy the feel and look of winter in the mountains. The skiing was good; and our friend and chalet host, Chuck, showed Erik a couple of trails he’s never skied before. Both trails are out of the way on the extreme margin of the Sugarbush resort’s “North” mountain, and are well protected by swaths of conifers, maples, and birches that helped to calm the windy conditions. The snow quality was very silky with no presence of icy spots because the trails normally get relatively little traffic. The sense of solitude a skier experiences away from the maddening crowd is part of the allure of the far-off slope, and the labyrinth of a wooded trail. Plus, if you wreck, nobody but your ski buddy notices. Erik will have to bring a camera next time to take some shots of the upper mountain runs. Every branch and bush is dusted in a pristine coat of white crystals, and the tree runs hint of hidden mysteries.

 

Back at the ranch, we celebrated Chuck’s upcoming birthday. Here are a couple of pics taken of the ceremony. The other guy in our photo is John; he is new to the house and a great add.  

The other usual suspects from our house crew were out of town so it was a small group this weekend.

The snow and cold didn’t stop our gang of four from heading out to catch some live music at a local watering hole called Slide Brook. It’s up on the side of a small hill overlooking one of the access roads near the ski resort. Funny layout inside. Long, narrow, and dark….like the parking lot. The lot is interesting. You can only back out once you’re in, and it can get dicey trying to get out after a few rounds of drinks. It’s real easy to go over the slope down into the trees. Or maybe you’ll crush the door of the 1981 Toyota pickup belonging to some hairy dude in flannel named “Duce”.  The Slide Brook is the only bar we’ve been to that has Jagermeister ON TAP. Cheesey, funky, and absolutely in keeping with the bar’s flavor.

The tap pic looks blurry because of the jostling crowd. But we bet more than a few patrons were seeing things the same way. You get two kinds of crowd at the Slide Brook: the Locals in wool flannel and knit hats in full Rasta-vibration mode, ordering drafts to go along with the chicken wings; and the Out-Of-Towners in Goretex and microfiber who are happy to shoot shots (of Jagermeister of course) and step outside to get their Rasta on too.

Anyway, we were happy to hang and listen to the fusion-jam-band sounds of the two piece combo known as Ray & Russ. They put out a great sound for only a keyboard and drums; Erik says they sound like Fish, Jan Hammer, and Stomu Yamashita stirred up into a funky aural stew. A lot of the time they are improvising, so each set is, to a degree, “interpretive” and unique. Here’s a good pic before the camera was knocked to the floor by “Duce”. He had a very expansive and free-wheeling dance style. 

Back home we took this shot after the sun went down. The low light exposure with no flash produced the black and white coloration. It could have been framed better, but the lighting looks cool.