A friend recently sent me a photo of the great actress Dame Judi Densch as Sally Bowles in a 1967 London production of "Cabaret". Although she looks much the same as now in physical appearance it is a tad difficult to imagine the stately lady of stage and screen that she is today portraying the saucy sexpot.
In younger days Arnold Schwarzenegger was fond of donning tight fitting polo shirts. Unfortunately, although his style sense has not changed, his body has. Several years ago I saw news footage of him running up a few steps to a podium wearing one of the form fitting shirts. The effect, to quote Jack Lemmon in "Some Like it Hot" looked like "jello on springs", not in a good way. Looking at him today it would be difficult, were it not for movies and photos, to imagine his once award winning physique.
So it was, while quietly standing behind my jewelry counter some years back, that a tiny lady entered the store. I judged her to be perhaps 70, if not a bit older. As I rang her transaction I invited her to add her name to our mailing list. She mused a moment then decided on one of the two names she went by. "That's the name I used when I played nightclubs and cruise ships", she informed me. As we continued to talk she said she had been in the original companies of two Broadway shows. "I was in the chorus of "The Sound of Music" and had one line in "Gypsy." In "Gypsy" she played Electra, one of a trio of strippers encountered by Gypsy Rose Lee. In a delightful song, "You Gotta Have a Gimmick", they attempt to teach Miss Lee the ropes of their profession. She told me her single line "You're much younger that I was when I started stripping", she delivered in a Marilyn Monroe coo, eliciting a laugh from the audience each time.
Ethel Merman, the show's star, apparently was not as amused as the audiences. Having none of it she cornered the stage manager and instructed him to "Tell Electra to cut it out!" God forbid that the audience should be entertained by a one line bit player.
As she left the store my mind's eye began to imagine her scantily clad on the Broadway boards. I shuddered a bit. It was at that point that I determined, my immense natural curiosity notwithstanding, that some things are best left unimagined.
Saturday, February 28, 2015
Baby It's Cold Outside
Chicago goes through one of it's infamous winter cold spells. People hunker down indoors, blinds and curtains drawn shut to conserve heat. Outdoor excursions are reduced only to those considered absolutely necessary. Then the mercury rises and, like flowers that close at night opening each dawn, we draw our blinds, perhaps crack the windows a bit to allow in a dose of fresh air and murmur, in stalwart Midwestern fashion, "Thar wasn't so bad!"
I pulled the blinds up in my kitchen. I survey the view, one of the first things that drew me to this apartment. A jumble of rooftops mixed with, in this season, bare trees, so lush in the summer they render the homes along the streets they line invisible to me. Church steeples rise, in the older neighborhoods to the west the tallest structures in the area. Their Gothic lines remind me of our European sojourns. Further off the lights of the planes arriving and departing from O'Hare airport float above the horizon.
I turn and survey my Pullman style kitchen. A space of clean white shaker style cabinets and black stone counter tops. Our collections are displayed behind the glass fronts of the cabinets. The 1950's pottery bean pot, a wedding gift to my husband's parents, the short painted wood candle holders from my great grandmothers house. There are novelty vintage glasses, sold in their day filled with jelly and available for purchase at the local supermarket as a promotional gimmick. There are stacks of early 1960's era pottery dishes. A line of plates punctuate the space above the cabinets. A mixture of thrift shop finds, a couple that belonged to my grandmother and others, treasured mementos to us, culled from gift and antique shops or purchased at plaza souvenir stalls reminding us of the places we have been fortunate enough to visit.
The kitchen faces west. The afternoon sun slants in from it's off center winter post. Lasers read shiny disks in the c.d. player creating music and I begin to cook. A collection of cookbooks reside on a shelf behind one of the glass fronts. Sometimes they instruct, at other times they inspire, providing me with the ideas I use to experiment and invent. Some days I eschew them altogether. I have made some dishes many times before. At these times I cook by sense and rote memory.
Fresh vegetables, cans of beans and tomato paste and leftover chicken breasts are transformed into a simmering pot of chili. Chili powder purchased on a trip to Galveston adds spice to the brew. Ingredients including overripe bananas, flour and eggs, with the swirl of a wooden spoon become a bread which fills the apartment with it's scent as it bakes. I enjoy the sense of touch as I roll ground turkey, minced peppers and scallions into meatballs. I employ my senses, touch, taste, smell, as I sample the result of my labors, deciding to add a bit of this or that. I breath in the scents which help transform a house into a home and listen to the music as it wafts through the air.
I smile, my shoulders relax and I am tranquil, enjoying the task at hand.
I pulled the blinds up in my kitchen. I survey the view, one of the first things that drew me to this apartment. A jumble of rooftops mixed with, in this season, bare trees, so lush in the summer they render the homes along the streets they line invisible to me. Church steeples rise, in the older neighborhoods to the west the tallest structures in the area. Their Gothic lines remind me of our European sojourns. Further off the lights of the planes arriving and departing from O'Hare airport float above the horizon.
I turn and survey my Pullman style kitchen. A space of clean white shaker style cabinets and black stone counter tops. Our collections are displayed behind the glass fronts of the cabinets. The 1950's pottery bean pot, a wedding gift to my husband's parents, the short painted wood candle holders from my great grandmothers house. There are novelty vintage glasses, sold in their day filled with jelly and available for purchase at the local supermarket as a promotional gimmick. There are stacks of early 1960's era pottery dishes. A line of plates punctuate the space above the cabinets. A mixture of thrift shop finds, a couple that belonged to my grandmother and others, treasured mementos to us, culled from gift and antique shops or purchased at plaza souvenir stalls reminding us of the places we have been fortunate enough to visit.
The kitchen faces west. The afternoon sun slants in from it's off center winter post. Lasers read shiny disks in the c.d. player creating music and I begin to cook. A collection of cookbooks reside on a shelf behind one of the glass fronts. Sometimes they instruct, at other times they inspire, providing me with the ideas I use to experiment and invent. Some days I eschew them altogether. I have made some dishes many times before. At these times I cook by sense and rote memory.
Fresh vegetables, cans of beans and tomato paste and leftover chicken breasts are transformed into a simmering pot of chili. Chili powder purchased on a trip to Galveston adds spice to the brew. Ingredients including overripe bananas, flour and eggs, with the swirl of a wooden spoon become a bread which fills the apartment with it's scent as it bakes. I enjoy the sense of touch as I roll ground turkey, minced peppers and scallions into meatballs. I employ my senses, touch, taste, smell, as I sample the result of my labors, deciding to add a bit of this or that. I breath in the scents which help transform a house into a home and listen to the music as it wafts through the air.
I smile, my shoulders relax and I am tranquil, enjoying the task at hand.
Tuesday, February 3, 2015
A Few Notes On Tribes
A number of years ago at a nightclub I was introduced to a rather attractive gentleman by a mutual friend. Upon our introduction the man said "Who are you anyway, I've been seeing you around for years. " Several months later I was introduced to the same gentleman a second time. His question, almost word for word, was the same. I informed him that the first time we were introduced his reaction had been identical. I then added, "Did you really have to use the word years?" His quick reply, "I could have said decades". To be fair his face, and somewhat hunky body, were familiar to me as well and I had been seeing him around for, well, the better part of two decades. He went on to explain that we had, at one point, ridden the same El train to work on a regular basis. He went on to speak of the community that forms when people's schedules coincide and they find themselves riding together on public transit. We do not necessarily know each other's names, occupations or life stories but, because we have shared a space together at a particular time, we know each other.
An erratic schedule defines a career in retail. However, when I work mornings, and I leave the house at a relatively consistent hour, I see the same people time and again., Because of the dress code I have to adhere to, suit, shirt and tie, I do stand out in the more casually dressed crowd of today's working world. Therefore I am fairly certain that I am noticed by "the usual suspects" on the El platform as well. The tall younger man with the unique sense of style. Comfortable yet slightly dressy, I have never seen him wear jeans, he appears fond of an occasional fun, almost whimsical print in some of his clothing. There is another extremely tall young man with a proportionally tall mass of black hair. His trademark skinny, stovepipe pants make his long thin legs look even longer and thinner. There is another who I acknowledge when we ride together. He works at a competitor. A bowtie is the daily standard of his professional garb. We met one morning, almost colliding nose to nose, running for a train as the doors closed and it pulled out of the station leaving us behind. There are the light skinned identical twin black sisters and the gay, yes it's that obvious, man with bright colored horn rimmed glasses, ludicrous handlebar moustache and garish clothing. I have not seen him for some time. Perhaps he has moved on, joined another community on another train.
At the gym the community changes with the time of day. Early morning before work I see the same group of people. If I go later, mid morning, a different yet none less familiar group inhabits the space. On weekends yet another. Some of us speak with one another, although the conversations are guarded and often banal. Even though there is a sizable number of gay men as members, when one is naked, or half naked, and unsure of the orientation of another, the subjects of conversation at hand tend towards the weather, the various supplements we take and their effects on our physical goals or the performance and payscale of the local sports teams.
These various communities might be described as tribes. Groups of people with a common goal. In these instances getting to work of getting fit.
There is another tribe I belong to, more seasonal in nature. My beach friends, my sandy band of brothers. A shared sexual orientation, plus our exposed amounts of flesh, makes the interactions with this group more comfortable than interactions with some others. A summer of unemployment led to my induction into this tanned gentleman's club. We tend to be over 40 with histories that make our conversations interesting and at times intellectually challenging. As they populate the beach on weekday afternoons they are not "9 to 5ers". They work, like myself, more random schedules. One man in his 60's is a personal trainer, taking up this new profession and reinventing himself later in life. Another is a bartender at an upscale restaurant studying to move up to somelier. Another, the one I know the best, is a public transit bus driver.
Over the past 2 decades virtual tribes have been created. Facebook as well as a number of other online networking sites link together large masses of people many of whom have never met face to face.
There are tribes defined by those one works with. By those that gather in houses of worship. Man is a social animal, desirous and even dependant on the company of and interaction with others. We form alliances, we form communities, we form tribes.
An erratic schedule defines a career in retail. However, when I work mornings, and I leave the house at a relatively consistent hour, I see the same people time and again., Because of the dress code I have to adhere to, suit, shirt and tie, I do stand out in the more casually dressed crowd of today's working world. Therefore I am fairly certain that I am noticed by "the usual suspects" on the El platform as well. The tall younger man with the unique sense of style. Comfortable yet slightly dressy, I have never seen him wear jeans, he appears fond of an occasional fun, almost whimsical print in some of his clothing. There is another extremely tall young man with a proportionally tall mass of black hair. His trademark skinny, stovepipe pants make his long thin legs look even longer and thinner. There is another who I acknowledge when we ride together. He works at a competitor. A bowtie is the daily standard of his professional garb. We met one morning, almost colliding nose to nose, running for a train as the doors closed and it pulled out of the station leaving us behind. There are the light skinned identical twin black sisters and the gay, yes it's that obvious, man with bright colored horn rimmed glasses, ludicrous handlebar moustache and garish clothing. I have not seen him for some time. Perhaps he has moved on, joined another community on another train.
At the gym the community changes with the time of day. Early morning before work I see the same group of people. If I go later, mid morning, a different yet none less familiar group inhabits the space. On weekends yet another. Some of us speak with one another, although the conversations are guarded and often banal. Even though there is a sizable number of gay men as members, when one is naked, or half naked, and unsure of the orientation of another, the subjects of conversation at hand tend towards the weather, the various supplements we take and their effects on our physical goals or the performance and payscale of the local sports teams.
These various communities might be described as tribes. Groups of people with a common goal. In these instances getting to work of getting fit.
There is another tribe I belong to, more seasonal in nature. My beach friends, my sandy band of brothers. A shared sexual orientation, plus our exposed amounts of flesh, makes the interactions with this group more comfortable than interactions with some others. A summer of unemployment led to my induction into this tanned gentleman's club. We tend to be over 40 with histories that make our conversations interesting and at times intellectually challenging. As they populate the beach on weekday afternoons they are not "9 to 5ers". They work, like myself, more random schedules. One man in his 60's is a personal trainer, taking up this new profession and reinventing himself later in life. Another is a bartender at an upscale restaurant studying to move up to somelier. Another, the one I know the best, is a public transit bus driver.
Over the past 2 decades virtual tribes have been created. Facebook as well as a number of other online networking sites link together large masses of people many of whom have never met face to face.
There are tribes defined by those one works with. By those that gather in houses of worship. Man is a social animal, desirous and even dependant on the company of and interaction with others. We form alliances, we form communities, we form tribes.
Sunday, December 28, 2014
Costa Rica - Final Checklist
Prior to leaving I had 3 mental checklists. What I wanted to see, what I wished to see and, the final category, wouldn't it be cool if I saw.
Toucans in the wild - Wanted to see
The first sighting we missed as we were already ensconced in seats on a shuttle which was taking us from the rain forest to our regular tour bus. Mildly disappointed but undaunted we were cheered later by seeing a group of the big billed birds on a roadside tree. Then, on our final rainforest tram a lovely bird with a jet black body and yellow beak perched in a tree, among several other of his kind, standing stock still on the branch as if posing for a National Geographic wildlife photo. We got a great shot!
Scarlett Macaws - Wanted to see
On a couple of occasions we spotted these magnificent birds from a distance appearing as silhouettes in the sky. On our final day one was spotted close to the bus. It banked spreading it's wings displaying the stripes of color which ran along them. Finding the group in the tree several minutes later was the icing on a scarlet cake.
Crocodiles - Wanted to see
This was almost a sure thing as scores of the reptiles reside along the banks of one of the rivers we cruised on. We saw at least a score of them.
Monkeys - Wanted to see
Hit the mother lode on this one, seeing all four species that are found in Costa Rica, albeit two for only seconds. The troupe of howling monkeys foraging over our heads on the river cruise and white face monkeys hanging like oversized Christmas ornaments from the trees in the national park are visual memories that will be with me for the rest of my life.
Volcanos - Wished to see
With only a 30% chance of seeing the crater of volcano Poa and the peak of Arenal due to Costa Rica's cloud cover I kept my expectations low so as not to be disappointed. Luck was on my side. The crater of Poa was visible on the day of our visit for only a brief period of time which happened to coincide with our visit. The view of Arenal was crystal clear all three days we were in sight of it. Our guide mentioned that she had never hosted a tour before that was able to see the peak all three days.
Water Walking Lizards - Wouldn't it be cool if I saw
I cheered and applauded as the reptile sped across the top of the water to seek safety from us on the shore.
The Unexpected
Rosette Spoonbills, a heron like bird I had not heard of prior to my visit. A most colorful and unselfconsciously elegant creature. A stork wading in the water foraging for food with it's long bill. The tiny bats, pit vipers and and brightly colored poison frogs of the rain forest. The sound of frogs at night at our resort at the foot of Arenal. The songbirds at that resort with their brilliantly hued plumage. Sticking my big toe into Costa Rica's neighbor Nicaragua. Parrots flying in pairs overhead. Tiger herons with their feathers arranged in alternating stripes down their bodies. The cat like raccoons and the iguanas picking up the colors of the world around them. The otherworldly huge cricket on the wall of our jungle side hotel.
Thank you Costa Rica!
Toucans in the wild - Wanted to see
The first sighting we missed as we were already ensconced in seats on a shuttle which was taking us from the rain forest to our regular tour bus. Mildly disappointed but undaunted we were cheered later by seeing a group of the big billed birds on a roadside tree. Then, on our final rainforest tram a lovely bird with a jet black body and yellow beak perched in a tree, among several other of his kind, standing stock still on the branch as if posing for a National Geographic wildlife photo. We got a great shot!
Scarlett Macaws - Wanted to see
On a couple of occasions we spotted these magnificent birds from a distance appearing as silhouettes in the sky. On our final day one was spotted close to the bus. It banked spreading it's wings displaying the stripes of color which ran along them. Finding the group in the tree several minutes later was the icing on a scarlet cake.
Crocodiles - Wanted to see
This was almost a sure thing as scores of the reptiles reside along the banks of one of the rivers we cruised on. We saw at least a score of them.
Monkeys - Wanted to see
Hit the mother lode on this one, seeing all four species that are found in Costa Rica, albeit two for only seconds. The troupe of howling monkeys foraging over our heads on the river cruise and white face monkeys hanging like oversized Christmas ornaments from the trees in the national park are visual memories that will be with me for the rest of my life.
Volcanos - Wished to see
With only a 30% chance of seeing the crater of volcano Poa and the peak of Arenal due to Costa Rica's cloud cover I kept my expectations low so as not to be disappointed. Luck was on my side. The crater of Poa was visible on the day of our visit for only a brief period of time which happened to coincide with our visit. The view of Arenal was crystal clear all three days we were in sight of it. Our guide mentioned that she had never hosted a tour before that was able to see the peak all three days.
Water Walking Lizards - Wouldn't it be cool if I saw
I cheered and applauded as the reptile sped across the top of the water to seek safety from us on the shore.
The Unexpected
Rosette Spoonbills, a heron like bird I had not heard of prior to my visit. A most colorful and unselfconsciously elegant creature. A stork wading in the water foraging for food with it's long bill. The tiny bats, pit vipers and and brightly colored poison frogs of the rain forest. The sound of frogs at night at our resort at the foot of Arenal. The songbirds at that resort with their brilliantly hued plumage. Sticking my big toe into Costa Rica's neighbor Nicaragua. Parrots flying in pairs overhead. Tiger herons with their feathers arranged in alternating stripes down their bodies. The cat like raccoons and the iguanas picking up the colors of the world around them. The otherworldly huge cricket on the wall of our jungle side hotel.
Thank you Costa Rica!
Costa Rica - Our Divine Guide and Merry Band
I have often, while traveling, been lucky. Hence the name of this blog. This occasion was no different. Part of the charm of this tour was due to the other people we shared this adventure with. At the farewell dinner we said goodbye to several that had, over the course of the tour, become friends. As we spoke with other members of the tour group it was clear that we all felt we had been a part of something special. For 9 days a group of people of different backgrounds came together as a community. We were kind and considerate of one another. We shared life stories, laughed, joked and experienced together a unique and beautiful place. Wildlife sightings were treated with almost childlike enthusiasm. Natural wonders were greeted with shared awe.
Our guide was the catalyst. She was young, charming, intelligent and energetic. Her national pride was evident. She was radiant as she shared with us her extensive knowledge and her deep love for her country and what makes it unique and special. Exuberant and gleeful, she was sweet, her enthusiasm infectious, down to her farewell hug to each of us as we boarded the shuttle for the airport. She was truly one of a kind and we owe a debt to her for bringing this group together and making this trip a truly magic moment in time.
Our guide was the catalyst. She was young, charming, intelligent and energetic. Her national pride was evident. She was radiant as she shared with us her extensive knowledge and her deep love for her country and what makes it unique and special. Exuberant and gleeful, she was sweet, her enthusiasm infectious, down to her farewell hug to each of us as we boarded the shuttle for the airport. She was truly one of a kind and we owe a debt to her for bringing this group together and making this trip a truly magic moment in time.
Costa Rica - Going Home
Normally when one returns from a trip it involves a relatively mundane series of events. There is the ride to the airport, in this case an hotel shuttle, then the increasing rigors of checking in for and boarding a flight. You take your seat, the plane takes off and you go home, plain and simple.
This trip had something else in store for us. Our last breakfast we were seated outside at a table for two next to the pool. News had been circulating during the last few days regarding a large volcano eruption near the capital of San Jose. The ash had traveled in the opposite direction of the airport so, fortunately, flights were not affected. Unfortunately several towns and farms in the path of the ash were. We were told as we got on the shuttle that there was a possibility we would be able to see the still smoking volcano on our ride to the airport. We were also informed that a number of earthquakes had occurred, not unusual with a volcanic eruption, the largest measuring in at over 5 points.
We started on our way. At a stop light we found ourselves next to a white building capped by a golden statue. Someone said it was a Mormon Temple. I never even knew there was such a thing as Costa Rican Mormons. Continuing the volcano came into view. Not knowing, one might have assumed it's peak was simply obscured by dark clouds. To us the black smoke around the mountaintop told a far more destructive tale. We, along with three others from our tour group, were on the same flight to Fort Lauderdale. We checked in and moved through security. I had just put my shoes back on and stood up when the terminal began to tremble. This was accompanied by a light rumbling sound. I am from San Francisco. I know what an earthquake feels like, although it was my first where I could actually hear it. It took the others in our little group a few moments to realize what had happened.
Little else of note transpired. My passport at customs wouldn't scan electronically so I had to have a face to face with a security officer just like back in the olden days;. Our connecting flight was delayed over 2 hours which got us home at well after midnight...you, know, stuff like that.
Goodbye Costa Rica, you have left me with rich memories worthy of your name. It was my pleasure to meet you.
This trip had something else in store for us. Our last breakfast we were seated outside at a table for two next to the pool. News had been circulating during the last few days regarding a large volcano eruption near the capital of San Jose. The ash had traveled in the opposite direction of the airport so, fortunately, flights were not affected. Unfortunately several towns and farms in the path of the ash were. We were told as we got on the shuttle that there was a possibility we would be able to see the still smoking volcano on our ride to the airport. We were also informed that a number of earthquakes had occurred, not unusual with a volcanic eruption, the largest measuring in at over 5 points.
We started on our way. At a stop light we found ourselves next to a white building capped by a golden statue. Someone said it was a Mormon Temple. I never even knew there was such a thing as Costa Rican Mormons. Continuing the volcano came into view. Not knowing, one might have assumed it's peak was simply obscured by dark clouds. To us the black smoke around the mountaintop told a far more destructive tale. We, along with three others from our tour group, were on the same flight to Fort Lauderdale. We checked in and moved through security. I had just put my shoes back on and stood up when the terminal began to tremble. This was accompanied by a light rumbling sound. I am from San Francisco. I know what an earthquake feels like, although it was my first where I could actually hear it. It took the others in our little group a few moments to realize what had happened.
Little else of note transpired. My passport at customs wouldn't scan electronically so I had to have a face to face with a security officer just like back in the olden days;. Our connecting flight was delayed over 2 hours which got us home at well after midnight...you, know, stuff like that.
Goodbye Costa Rica, you have left me with rich memories worthy of your name. It was my pleasure to meet you.
Saturday, December 27, 2014
Costa Rica - A Waterfall of Tranquility
Our last activity was a tram up a densely forested mountainside. By this point a sense of camaraderie had developed among many of the members of the tour group. We glided gently up the mountain. A waterfall flowed below us catching in pools before continuing it's downward plunge. The tram started at the lowest point in the forest canopy moving through the mid point before reaching the forests highest level and making it's turnaround. As we descended the view was expansive. The untouched wildness of the forest around us, 80% of it had never seen human hands, covered the mountains. In the distance we were gifted with one last look at the Pacific Ocean. Closer up we were given a view of a group of toucans playing in a tree. As we returned to the bottom we shared the wonderful sense of tranquility and serenity the forest's natural beauty had bestowed on us.
One last surprise awaited me. Driving to our hotel a group of spider monkeys cavorted in a short tree. There are 4 kinds of monkeys found in Costa Rica. Although I saw 2 of the species for only an instant this still made me 4 for 4!
The rain began again. The water poured down the mountains filling the gutters on the side of the road. Even when a small mudslide briefly slowed us down it did not dampen the spirits of our group.
We showered and dressed in the best we had with us for the farewell dinner that evening. We toasted one another and traded memories, addresses and e mails. We all knew we had been part of something very special.
One last surprise awaited me. Driving to our hotel a group of spider monkeys cavorted in a short tree. There are 4 kinds of monkeys found in Costa Rica. Although I saw 2 of the species for only an instant this still made me 4 for 4!
The rain began again. The water poured down the mountains filling the gutters on the side of the road. Even when a small mudslide briefly slowed us down it did not dampen the spirits of our group.
We showered and dressed in the best we had with us for the farewell dinner that evening. We toasted one another and traded memories, addresses and e mails. We all knew we had been part of something very special.
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