Been There, Done That, Got the Souvenirs, got Rid of Them

I'm on a trip to New York City. I like to travel or, actually, I like to be some place else, staying in a hotel, selfishly focused only on my own pleasure. I'm not crazy about airport security although I'm pretty tolerant of the getting there aspect of travel especially if there are no delays.

There was a time when I was checking places off my list. Seeing what was supposed to be seen. Now I'm happy to return to old haunts. To be reasonably familiar with a place. To walk past the guys hawking tickets to the Empire State building or bus tours and go to a favorite restaurant. I don't need to take home a T-Shirt, refrigerator magnet or a little replica of anything. Oh...I've done that. When we downsized some of my souvenirs were given away. Don't miss them.

The photo is taken from the 4th level of Time Warner Center looking at Columbus Circle. That's the statue of Columbus in fact. He is temporarily covered with a 'living room' which is accessible to the public. It's an art project by Tatzu Nishi called "Discovering Columbus."Today we have timed tickets to look the old Italian in the eye. It will be gone soon like Christo installations and the holiday windows we are enjoying on Fifth Avenue. I like photos that are stuck in a certain time although of timeless things.

Well, that's me for today trying to do Holidailies remotely. I love the old familiar feel of this Year's portal. Cheers to Jette and Chip. Last year when we visited NYC around this time we had a breakfast meet-up with Jette who was visiting, too. That's another thing I like about travel...meet-ups, planned and unplanned. More on that tomorrow perhaps. I have to go look Chris in the eye.

New York, NY

A temporary (?) sculpture of Andy Warhol. Near Union Square. Manhattan, New York City. I am testing the Blogger app on mu iPad. Expect something of more import in December.

Zoey: January 13, 1998-September 4, 2012

I called Zoey my god dog because I knew her all her life and her mom (owner) and I went on many adventures with my last dog, Chalow. When she was still a small pup with big feet, not yet grown into the regal yet goofy standard poodle she would become, she would plop down on her hindquarters during walks and look at us as if to say 'what are we doing?' Once she discovered squirrels and her legs grew out she pranced along, sometimes starting up every sidewalk or drive. She could jump up very high from a standing start and the huntress she felt she was tested the collar and lead when something would move in the bushes. The happy picture above is from 2002 with one of the many hairdos she sported over the years.

Here's her obituary from my friend:

As most of you know about a year ago Zoey was diagnosed with cancer. For the last year she has been taking an anti-cancer drug and Prednisone and has been doing fair. Over the past couple of weeks her back legs have been slipping out from under her more and more. Often I would actually have to lift her back up because she couldn't get traction on the hardwood floor. Sometimes she would shiver even when it wasn't cold which is a sign a dog might be in pain. She made valiant efforts to hide her weakening condition but several times I let her outside and would notice her just standing in the yard, not looking around, just standing. 

Recently it was so obvious that she was in decline that I finally decided to let her go. This past Tuesday, September 4, 2012, around 12:35pm I sat by her side while the vet gave her sedatives and she passed gently on. Zoey was born on January 13, 1998 so she was 14 years 7 months and 22 days old which is a pretty good run for a big dog. 

About 2 months ago I knew we were approaching the end because I opened the door to let her out and 5 feet in front of her was a squirrel on the ground. In her youth Zoey would leap off the top of 6 steps, pompomed tail in the air, running full blast across the yard trying to catch a squirrel 50 feet away and already half way up a tree. This time she leaned forward for a moment and I thought she were going to take off once more; but she stopped as if finally accepting that she wasn't going to catch this one either. She couldn't muster that last burst of energy to fly off the step and try for the 100th time in vain to catch a squirrel, so it was clear her joy of life had changed. In life she never succeeded, but I know all dogs go to heaven which is full of squirrels; and I hear they actually catch 'em. 

Rest in peace, Zoey Ray of Sunshine, Pedigreed Black Standard Poodle born in Gholson, Texas; one of a litter of 13 adopted at the age of 8 weeks old. Living life at full throttle for almost 15 years.

The Packing List Revelations

I'm getting ready to go on another trip. Not counting staycations (I think we did one of those, traveling about two miles and staying in a hotel for two nights) I have been on five trips this year and I'm heading out for another this week. Los Angeles, New Orleans (with a stop in Houston), Manhattan, the North Shore above Boston plus the Hamptons, Denver suburbs to visit family and now, this week, Portland, OR and environs. When I retired I thought it would be wonderful to travel without worrying about work. (In 2000, I went to Geneva, several places in Australia and Las Vegas for work in a short space of time. Probably made several other trips that year.)

I'm eager for this getaway to Oregon, a regular trip for us in August and one I look forward to all year long.

But another part of me is tired of pulling out the packing list and checking things off and organizing it all. Again.

The packing list.
At some point before that busy working 2000 year I decided to make a master packing list as a WORD document. The idea was that I'd copy it for each trip, edit it to eliminate things I wouldn't need for a trip, add special items and then check things off as I packed. As my life and the world evolved, of course, some things were added to or eliminated from the master list. The master list no longer calls out a PDA and spare stylus but does introduce the possibility of taking along a laptop, an iPod, an IPad and and iPhone or other cell. I've dropped off pantyhose and feminine sanitary supplies from the list. I no longer take a spare watch because, after all, doesn't every gadget tell time?

A few things are still on the list but get eliminated from the list almost every time: formal wear, robe (if the hotel doesn't have one, too bad), hair dryer (I try not to use one now and hotels usually have them). I almost never take our iPod either but sometimes it's a good thing to do.

A Downsizing Every Time
Most of us have too much stuff. But packing, particularly for a trip involving airlines, will focus one on what is really needed. If you can live on what's in that suitcase for a week or ten days, what do you really need?  I always sort of test myself out on whether I actually use everything I take. Of course, one gets a pass on emergency supplies. I always hope I don't need bandaids, Advil, stomach remedies, my tiny umbrella, spare credit cards and photo ID (kept separately from wallet), cough drops, stuff like that. But it's good to get home with almost all your under things and other clothing having been worn. If you took a book, you ought to have read it. My current dodge is to have reading material on the iPad and then to read one of the books FFP takes along. We always, always seem to visit a bookstore. And buy something. We buy papers along the way. We are never without something to read. But at home, of course, it's much worse with unread books, papers and magazines always threatening to topple from every surface.

If you have to carry it, you'll have less!

Always Take the Time-Tested
It's OK to take something new on a trip, I guess. (I'm bought a new carryon for this trip. And, yes, my packing list lists all the possible 'containers' that I might take.) But for clothes and shoes I like to take things I've comfortably worn at home. Walking shoes need to have at least fifty miles on them, preferably with some five mile stretches. Dress shoes need to have gone a few miles, too.

Money, Ticket, ID, Prescriptions
I don't take prescriptions. FFP does. The theory is that if you have money (and credit cards), your ID, tickets and prescription drugs that you can buy anything else. It's a reasonable theory, but FFP can't buy some things off the rack and it is tough for me to find clothes. Short sleeve shirts, polos, underwear, maybe shoes (but see above) could be replaced.

These days you'd be kind of lost without your smart phone. Or an iPad or something. Or both. But still, there are essentials and there are other things. We go on the plane wearing sturdy walkers, a decent shirt, nice jeans and a black blazer. Dress shoes are in the carryon (although FFP has come up with sturdy walkers that  also pass muster as dress shoes). I usually pack my dress shoes, a few under things and socks, a change of pants and shirt, prescription drugs, electronics and chargers, emergency stuff and tiny light umbrellas and lightweight anoraks in carry ons. We check one bag with more clothing, toiletries with liquids and sharps and such. I close the main compartment with a cable tie, cut off the end and place my trusty Swiss Army knife in the front pocket. If the inspectors (or thieves) open it, I'll know (unless they very carefully duplicate my cable tie color and trim). And if they steal the knife, I'll buy another. But I always have scissors, openers, etc. if my checked bag arrives.

Will You Remember What You Wore?
If the shoes hurt or you were cold or too warm, you might remember. If someone takes a photo of you, you might remember. I guess if you felt really out of place, then it might stick with you. But mostly if you were pretty comfortable, it's not what you remember about a trip. If someone takes a picture of me on a trip, I'm likely to be wearing...a black blazer!

A Trip to Regret
I am almost burned out from the traveling this year. The security lines, airline snafus, packing. But I have been trying for weeks to think of a trip I really regretted taking. Oh, there have been times I didn't mind leaving a place...to get home or go somewhere else. But later I never remember wishing I hadn't been there. I always saw something new, learned something new (sometimes about packing) or met some interesting person. So I'll keep on printing my list, packing and going.

Playing a Film Critic on Blogger

Well, it's goodbye to South By. There was a light show on Frost Bank during the festival (above). And we saw films. No music. No panels (not even film ones which we could have seen). Just screenings. Plus a brief walk throught the trade show and one non-SXSW party.

We went to six venues, all very close by foot: Alamo Ritz, Convention Center (Vimeo branded theater), Rollins at Long Center (Canon branded theater), Paramount, State (called 'Stateside' for some reason) and the Violet Crown. We saw plenty of strangeness on the streets, heard the dull roar from Auditorium Shores and other outdoor venues even from the inside of the condo. We retreated often to said condo for refreshment, rest and a few necessary chores.

I learned long ago that I'm not a good critic. Not of books, not of restaurants. (I'm always 'Wow. Best. Meal. Ever.' without the details of the ingredients. "I think there was foie gras and caviar in there somewhere....") Doubly so movies where I just watch and miss lots of things like homage to this film maker or political reference. I have to look up the people to see what else they've been a part of film-wise, otherwise. But, in spite of this failing, I like to recap the movies I saw. Let's just not call it criticism. This is mostly for me to remember when and where I saw something. But if you want to read along, especially if you like documentaries, feel free. Also, people are always asking what we did during the festival. Now I can give them a link.

These are the films. We bought badges early and 'only' paid about $17/per movie.

The movie: The Announcement

What it was about: Magic Johnson, especially his 1991 announcement that he had the HIV virus

Why we saw it: It was a documentary. The blurb made it sound fascinating as history. We'd been interested in the fight against HIV/Aids for a long time and that's our primary 'health and human services' cause.

What we thought after seeing it: Wow. Magic narrated the film! His wife gave some great and heartfelt interviews. We've come a long way in the fight but there is still lots of education needed. Man, he was the greatest basketball player ever. (Great game footage.) And: even he was met with discrimination. Very well-formed doc with a wide range of images from pre-announcement to modern day.

Where can you see it: Now playing on ESPN (it's an ESPN movie).

The movie: Jeff

What it was about: About Jeffrey Dahmer's arrest and its effect on the authorities and the community.

Why we saw it: It was a documentary. Forrest likes true crime especially when it explores the law enforcement puzzles and the effect of the crime on the community.

What we thought after seeing it: Use of re-enactment was unsettling but because they only used it to show interactions with people, um, alive to describe it, it was useful. The detective, Patrick Kennedy, was particularly upended by his involvement and his interviews were honest and direct.

Where can you see it: No idea, but maybe follow the WEB.

The movie: The Central Park Effect

What it was about: About the birds and bird watchers in Central Park.

Why we saw it: It was a documentary. We love NYC. A friend's uncle made the film.

What we thought after seeing it: A pitch perfect movie on this topic. Beautiful nature photography. Fantastic personal profiles. People were buzzing that Jonathan Franzen was in the movie, but we were actually more fascinated with some of the other bird watchers.

Where can you see it: Enter your e-mail here to find out.

The movie: Tchoupitoulas

What it was about: Documenting how a child sees New Orleans.

Why we saw it: It was a documentary (yes, we like docs) and we had previously enjoyed "45365" by the Ross brothers and they made this movie.

What we thought after seeing it: Achieved its goal. The children were charming, especially the youngest boy. Lots of meandering and handheld but great footage to dig into NOLA from a child's point of view. In the Q&A, the Ross brothers said they'd been in New Orleans as kids and tried to make this movie from a child's point of view. After the young brothers in the movie happened by the house where the Rosses were living in New Orleans one day, they chased them down and used them to focus the movie. With that touch, success. Without it, I'm not so sure.

Where can you see it: No clue.

The movie: (really TV show premiere): Girls

What it was about: Four friends fighting to survive with their dreams in New York City in the confusing period between college and actual adulthood.

Why we saw it: We enjoyed the movie Lena Dunham made (Tiny Furniture) even though we couldn't relate to the character. (Having graduated college too many decades ago.) We'd been following her on Twitter since as she navigated the adventure of getting an HBO series. They showed three episodes for this SXSW screening.

What we thought after seeing it: A funny and poignant look at the way some young ladies live. Lena's character is self-deprecating and lovable. The other characters are of a type that you recognize. NYC locations fun, too. We'll probably watch it.

Where you can see it: HBO premiere April 15.

The movie: In Our Nature

What it was about: A father and his grown son show up to use a lake cabin with their girlfriends the same weekend. This was the first narrative piece we saw in the festival, apart from the TV sitcom. I'll bet some people only see narratives. This is why everyone's SXSW movie festival is so very different.

Why we saw it: FFP picked it from the description, I think, figuring it would be a character-driven piece. And it was to some degree.

What we thought after seeing it: What if Matt Saracen was Roger Sterling's kid instead of that guy running away from family responsibilities by joining the army, leaving the kid with a grandmother with dementia to care for? (In other words, Zach Gifford's role in "Friday Night Lights.") What if he'd grown up in relative privilege with that steamy, seething artistic nature? Oh, wait. Fiction. It is hard for me to separate the bad boy elder statesman of "Mad Men" and the artistic quarterback with the finely-tuned moral compass from the actors playing them. Not really. But they were almost playing the same characters only the youngster had more choices. He still steamed and seethed and longed to be creative. I honestly didn't get beyond my stereotypes for these characters and the ladies playing the girlfriends didn't really stand out in their roles either. Gabrielle Union convinced me she was pretty and young and a strong woman. I was never convinced she would partner with Roger, er, Gil, however.

Where can you see it: No clue.

The movie: Francine

What it was about: A woman is released from prison and tries to find a comfortable place in the world.

Why we saw it: I think FFP chose it because Melissa Leo was in it. In the future, however, we may choose films because Brian M. Cassidy and Melanie Shatzky wrote or directed them.

What we thought after seeing it: Immediately after seeing it I was nonplussed. I wanted to know why this woman had gone to prison in the first place. I was puzzled about her behavior. I wanted more things explained. I think both FFP and I came to see the piece eventually as it was intended. You were supposed to be outside the woman's experience. She was not going to explain herself to you. But you eventually realized that she required confinement and a certain kind of authority. I was reminded of the film "Temple Grandin" and the way the eponymous title character discovered ways of confinement that calmed animals and also herself as an autistic person.

Where can you see it: No clue.

The movie: Trash Dance

What it was about: A choreographer, Allison Orr, decides to do a dance piece with employees of the Austin Solid Waste Department and their machinery.

Why we saw it: It's a documentary and it was getting a lot of buzz from people we met in lines and it was Austin stuff.

What we thought after seeing it: It did a great job letting us get to know the people who provide this service. It really did seem like dance. Perhaps the performance itself, as presented in the movie, was a little more tedious than the rest of the movie, but this one is something different. Original music by Graham Reynolds, now Austin's treasured composer, didn't hurt. It made me understand my youngest great nephew who is five and is (or was fairly recently) completely transfixed by the guys who pick up the trash at his house.

Where can you see it: No clue.

The movie: Slacker 2011

What it was about: Random encounters in Austin, Texas directed scene by scene by 24 directors with a script following Richard Linklater's orginal "Slacker".

Why we saw it: We had missed seeing this in the screenings Austin Film Society had. We saw the original at the Paramount with much of the cast of that one. We like seeing Austin scenes even though the jump cuts from place to place (in both films) are disorienting.

What we thought after seeing it: Enjoyed seeing the places around town. Including a corner just outside of our place. But the original is the original.

Where can you see it: No clue.

The movie: The Last Fall

What it was about: A narrative about an NFL player toiling at the edge of the sport who is cut and goes home to confront the possibility of life after football.

Why we saw it: The plot seemed a bit different.

What we thought after seeing it: A little bit of soap opera but not too bad an effort. It was more about family and truly growing up than football which was a good thing. The movie was haunted by the death of the film maker's parents a little bit. (His mother, who died in May, was given a dedication. He indicated before this showing that he'd just found out his father had died.) Matthew Cheery (writer, director, etc.) obviously has a talent for film and I would take a chance on another of his works.

Where can you see it: No clue.

The movie: Beauty is Embarrassing

What it was about: A documentary about artist, animator, puppeteer, sculptor Wayne White.

Why we saw it: Love docs. Love docs about artists.

What we thought after seeing it: Loved it. Great footage of a variety of work. Interesting family perspective (of both Wayne's wife, Mimi Pond, and their kids and Wayne's parents). Pee Wee Herman a plus, too.

Where can you see it: No clue.

The movie: Searching for Sugar Man

What it was about: A documentary about a seventies folk rocker, Sixto Rodriguez, and his unlikely fame far away from his Detroit life.

Why we saw it: Love docs. Heavily recommended by someone in line.

What we thought after seeing it: A most amazing film, presented like a mystery story and enhanced by the wonderful, forgotten (in the U.S.) music. See it. Buy the tunes. I loved the Cape Town footage, too.

Where can you see it: After a breakout success at Sundance, Sony Classics picked up. Watch for a theatrical release. I would watch it again.

The movie: Mustafa's Sweet Dreams

What it was about: Allegedly a documentary about a kid who wants to master making baklava.

Why we saw it: We like docs. Seemed like this one might be something different.

What we thought after seeing it: We thought this was our worst choice of the festival. It didn't seem like a documentary. It was boring and did not ring true. The camera work on the making of the baklava was the best part. There was a little expose of the child labor and misogynistic attitudes around the story but it read, in the end, like an after school special and not a very good one and certainly not a documentary.

Where can you see it: No clue. And don't recommend it.

The movie: Under African Skies

What it was about: A documentary about Paul Simon and his collaborations with South African musicians.

Why we saw it: We like docs. I'm interested in South Africa. We like Graceland.

What we thought after seeing it: Good job of documenting the music (album, performances) and the players (musicians as well as politicians and activists) and the history. I saw Mariam Mekeba live on my 2005 visit to Cape Town before her death (2008). Would have been stellar if she'd been alive for the reunion tour.

Where can you see it: No idea, but watch for it.

The movie: Brooklyn Castle

What it was about: A Brooklyn school has a tremendous chess program which enriches the lives of students struggling to break out of poverty and attend good high schools and get into college.

Why we saw it: We like docs. Though childless, we are interested in helping groups that provide enhancement to public education.

What we thought after seeing it: Enjoyed 'meeting' the kids and the teachers. Thought the pace was a little contemplative but, well, it was about chess!

Where can you see it: No clue.

The movie: Sunset Strip

What it was about: The history of the clubs and lives along Sunset Boulevard in the area between Beverly Hills and Hollywood know as "the Strip".

Why we saw it: We like docs. We'd just been to LA and, in fact, stayed a block from the Whiskey A Go Go.

What we thought after seeing it: Great survey. Coup getting all these people on film and all archival stuff.

Where can you see it: No clue.

The movie: Gregory Crewdson, Brief Encounters

What it was about: Documenting art photographer Gregory Crewdson staging his large narrative photos.

Why we saw it: We like docs. We like docs about artists. While in LA, FFP had picked up a book of these photos and marveled at them when we visited a great indie store, Book Soup. Before that, we'd never heard of Gregory. We couldn't believe our luck when we saw this in the SXSW schedule.

What we thought after seeing it: Fantastic doc of the process. After a lot of handheld camera work showing the settings, setup, all the set decoration and direction I loved it when the camera lingered over the high quality still print.

Where can you see it: No clue. But if you get a chance do see it.

Yep, that was our SXSW 2012. We only regretted one choice. We learned about some music and art we weren't that familiar with and met fascinating people (several in line waiting to see shows). In fact, in line we met a woman who had interests similar to mine about WWII and who had actually written a screenplay. I've already been privileged to read that. I bought a Rodriguez album on my iPhone. And we think we will buy Gregory Crewdson's book over at Book People. We are culturally enhanced, I guess.

Curating a Life

I am fascinated by those collections at places like Harry Ransom Center at UT where all the books, papers, manuscripts, ephemera and claptrap of a life is carefully handled (with white gloves), organized, indexed and stored in acid-free boxes and such. That's the treatment someone like Norman Mailer gets. I would call to your attention that the center has perserved the invitations and attendance list for his fiftieth birthday party. I myself have ephemera from my fiftieth birthday party. But I doubt it will ever be curated.

For most of us, if we don't curate our lives then no one will. On the other hand, who will actually care about it but us? Even if I had kids I don't think they would care. So what's the point? Does it matter that you can't remember where you were twenty years ago or what unpublished writings you were creating? Does it matter that many of your photos are unlabeled and the people and places in them unidentified. What has even been the point of keeping old photos and computer files of writing and digital photos and scans of tickets and souvenirs and thousands of emails? Indeed, I've made a great effort to keep the stuff even if I haven't done much to preserve it from harm. The computer files have been copied and preserved through so many hard drive failures and computer decommissions that I've lost track.

Still I have this desire to organize it and have decided to spend a little time on it each day. It will, of course, be another forgotten project after a while. Perhaps there will be little lists on the computer and notes on paper to commemorate the effort (and cry out to themselves be archived).

[Today's picture is a shop window self-portrait taken at Uncommon Objects in 2008.]

Danger!

The world is full of danger. It's much safer here in Austin, Texas than in, say, the Syrian city of Homs where two journalists were killed today. But Sunday a driver under the influence of something jumped the curb and killed a man and critically injured a woman on Guadalupe a couple of miles from here. We are hyper-alert when we walk, but danger always comes out of left field, doesn't it?

I find I'm in the best mood when I don't over think being safe and just accept that death and/or destruction will find me. One just has to do the best one can to stay safe and healthy and then just admire the way the world operates. Randomly within limits we don't always understand. When I realize how safe I am and yet how each and everyone and every thing is vulnerable, I can embrace the little delights like shop window photos, meals, museums and the people around me with the respect they deserve.

And to think...I haven't even read the obituaries today.

[Today's photo is a reflection on SoCo at the Parts and Labor store with the logo of Shark Attack Media.]

Do What You Please

One of the great things about retirement is just getting up on a Friday and doing whatever you please. Of course, you are influenced by a lot of things: what needs doing, how you are feeling, what the weather is like and what those around you are doing. I might have taken a walk with himself but he decided that he really must finish a piece of writing. It is giving him trouble and he has been displacing by doing things like taking the recycling out and retrieving dry cleaning delivered to the front desk and sorting and starting the laundry. So I pitched in on the folding and such.

I had a little project going where I was repairing some bad labels in this blog and, while I was bringing up those entries, editing them and rereading them and selecting some of the pictures for a Pinterest board because I just got on that (I guess it's a social) network. I let myself finish that project. I felt like blogging in this space, but I told myself I wouldn't do that until I had checked up on all the financial accounts, made sure all the bills made sense and everything balanced. So, yeah, I did that and it's almost lunch time! (I was up before 8AM, I swear.)

So I'm letting myself write something here. But I'm thinking that what would really please me now is....lunch. I need to clean out the frig. Maybe if I eat up some leftovers that will be easier, huh?

I also wouldn't mind some exercise and, really, I might find the time to do some more housekeeping or plan a trip.

When I worked, the time to do whatever pleased me was very limited. When there are vast amounts of it, even when, of course, there are things that need attending to, sometimes it's really hard to choose. But, now, I think I'll find some lunch and read the papers while I eat it. Then, well, we'll see.

[Today's reflection is compliments of Tesoros Trading and a tree.]

Goodbye, Friend

Sunset came on January 20, 2012 for my dear friend Charles Gentry. His obituary is here. On facebook there are scores of pictures and he's hugging someone in almost every one.

My thoughts on my friend:

Charles came into our lives as an exuberant participant in charity events, but I really got to know him when he needed a little help from his friends. After his brain injury he went through therapy and he lived in Tarrytown where only a few things were within walking distance for him. Somehow we fell into a habit of having lunch every month or so. He would bring along a notebook and write down things we talked about. He said his cognitive therapist recommended it as a way to work on memory and such. I know a lot of people were picking him up and taking him to appointments and exercise classes. My contribution to helping him through that time was small. But one thing that struck me is how he didn’t mind asking for help and he made you glad to give it, but he never felt sorry for himself or doubted that he would be able to return the favors one day.

One day we were going to lunch and he told me that he’d had all this time on his hands so he’d decided to clean out his closet and he had a lot of stuff to take to Top Drawer. (A thrift store supporting Project Transitions, a charity we both supported.) I volunteered to borrow my dad’s van and take his stuff to the store on our excursion and told him I thought I’d just bring my dad along for lunch, too. I remember how appreciative he was and how he made my dad feel his gratitude. (Dad also purloined a couple of things, including a large sack of bird seed.) I’m guessing Charles was planning a downsizing and a move to downtown even then. When we all moved to the 360, Charles and other friends and Forrest and I reveled in our ‘neighborhood’ and he never failed to exalt the glories of the downtown lifestyle when we’d go to lunch or we’d be at a party or even when we just randomly bumped into each other. He was living his dream and he always reminded me that we were, too.

We promised to take care of each other. When I found out what had happened to Charles, I initially felt I hadn't done my job. Then I realized that we really had taken care of each other. It’s sad that Charles’ journey went no further but I believe we all contributed to his life after his recovery -- because he let us in to do it. And he contributed to our community and took care of us, too; not least by making us see some true things about life and death.

I have been struck at how many people felt so close to Charles. We invited Charles to events, he and I had lunch dates and he threw parties and invited us. We weren’t the kind of friends who saw each other almost daily (and he had those). But everyone in his orbit has expressed how much they felt he cared for them. Because when we got together he gushed with enthusiasm that we’d met up and that he got to see us and that we were on this earth at the same time and the same place. Which is really what friendship is all about.

In My Head

[Thanks to Off the Wall, a cool SoCo shop for this reflection shot.]

I find things to worry about. From the ridiculous to the sublime. What is happening here? What just happened there? What if this happens? Or that? When will I die? What if I run out of money? What if the world ends, more or less?

Meanwhile though I sometimes find a way to enjoy reading (and typing if not writing). I whack a tennis ball for a winner and am thrilled. I take a walk, looking at houses and lawns, dogs and other walkers as well as litter and blades of grass. I think: it's great to be alive, observing this moving this way. And really: who cares what's next.

Still...I'm going to get that air bag recall in my car looked at this week, I swear.

Who Are You Again? And I?

[Photo at a Shop called Howl on South Lamar.]

When you reach the ripe old age of (insert mumbling dissembling here) you have met a lot of people. They have crossed your path in classes, at work, at play, at events, in your neighborhood, at clubs and bars. Some are family or close enough. Some are family of friends or people you met on trips or through random connections (e.g. social media). They are friends of friends or people you met a degree or two or more away from the initial friend.

If you are like me, you keep up with this crew in various ways. In your head, of course, in that compartment labeled 'people I know.' This mental database contains a lot of people who might actually know you and also the 'famous' (locally or otherwise) who have little chance of recalling who you might be. This jumbled mess is the reason that when I'm trying to remember a friend whose first name is, say, Robert, that a chef's last name or a movie star's might appear in what is my slow-moving train of thought.

My husband has two large Rolodex wheels crammed full of cards, many with business cards attached, others scribbled on. Many times he retrieves precious info from this gadget. Of course, I'm betting there are names and info for people he has completely forgotten, too.

My major contact list is in the form of a computer data base. Currently in a Microsoft Access file, it's been in at least two other computer data base forms (one was, I believe, managed by a data base program called, strangely, Paradox). This data base has been converted, updated and columns added over a long and tangled life. When I first designed the columns...I didn't include 'email' as a heading but resorted to typing them into 'comments' for a long while and I've never added a cell phone column, just putting the cell phone into comments when people had both and now, of course, just putting cell phone into the phone column now that many don't have a land line. When arranging big events, I added columns for 'adult count' and 'kid count' and 'hotel/air.' I added some columns along the way to aid selection for mail/merge like 'XMAS' and 'TEMP.' The thing is a hot mess but a very important data base to me and because I'm too lazy to convert it again, I've had to buy new versions of Access (or Office Professional) along the way.

Of course I have contact information collected in phones and e-mail programs, too. I had the same cell phone for a decade from Sprint. I once typed all the contacts in it into a word document. I saved this in an Evernote (a program that allows you to have notes to yourself in browsers and on gadgets). The iPhone conveniently offers to call the things that look like phone numbers. Gradually some of these are added to my iPhone contact list which is, however, pretty short because really who phones people any longer? And I'm not really into texting either.

Then there are people (and groups) that I 'follow' or have listed as 'friends' or 'professional contacts' or have placed in 'circles' on social media.

There is overlap in all these databases from the mental to the modern social media. I also confess to having found a few printed phone lists the other day from jobs I had which I've never thrown away because they help me remember who these co-workers actually were. Or their names anyway.

There are people in that mental data base who've never made it to any real contact list and who aren't on social media (or not connected with me there). I might say 'hi' to these folks, I might have even had dinner with them, worked closely with them on something or sat through meetings for some charity. But I couldn't come up with an address or phone number on a bet. (Although phone books and Internet searches might do it. And private clubs we belong to have directories.)

I added three columns to the computer data base the other day. One to try to summarize how I came to know the person at first point of contact and one to rate the likelihood of ever communicating with them again. Then a third to describe what the current relationship is. There were a number of people in there who, honestly, I don't have any idea who they are. I should have put a comment in when I added them. I know that a few were friends of my dad's mostly and that I added them to this database to invite people to his 90th birthday party a few years ago. I should probably just delete the names but couldn't bring myself to do it. Some I knew pretty well myself through him and I've had to weed out the ones who died. Every year during holidays or while selecting names for a party list, I delete the dead people. Sometimes you just wipe out the line. Sometimes you have to remove the name of one half of a couple. Just a few days ago I had word that someone died. I found that I didn't have a snail mail address for a sympathy card. This couple had moved around and even though I'd been to an event at one house they had I had zero points of contact in my head or elsewhere. Only the dead person in the couple was on social media. There has been lots of press about what happens to people's social media feeds when they die. I don't really find it morbid or weird or anything myself. What's the difference between that and a hand-written Christmas card list? We got a Christmas card in my in-laws mail for both of them during the holidays. He died in January and she died in November. Someone didn't get the word. Anyway, we found the address for our sympathy card (where this digression started) by e-mailing a friend who we knew was close to the surviving partner.

That's one reason I like being on people's Christmas card lists: you keep up with their addresses. When I receive holiday cards, thank-you notes or invitations, I always pull up my data base and double check the address, spelling of names, zip codes etc.

But...life goes on. People enter and exit. And they don't always exit by dying. Sometimes we just never see them again. Sometimes that's how we'd wish it, sometimes not. You just sort of never know, especially about casual friends and acquaintances.

I began this digression several weeks ago. Since then a friend who lived here in the high rise died. The enormous number of connections he had and we had with him came into sharp relief. And there's his record in my database, his number on my phone. Eliminating them is too fraught today. Another time. And when I attend a memorial for him that's coming up I'll look around and realize how his connections overlap with mine in unexpected ways and also wonder more than once "what's that person's name?" and "are they in my database?"

When I started writing this it wasn't about death. And really, it's still not. But as with everything else, death has a way of sneaking into every conversation and changing all the parameters.

Travel Looms

As soon as we get a piece of info about scheduling some medical tests we are going to assume that we can book some trips. Getaways. Fun. See new things. Revisit places we love. "New York and Portland [OR] are givens," said himself who is now a partner in pretty much all my travels.We'd considered taking a cruise some time, too. We'd even casually talked about doing one with another retired couple. We knew someone who was on the Costa Concordia (he and his companion got off unhurt). Gives you pause. I am a big believer in travel insurance and giving yourself a lot of options (taking spare glasses and your prescription; putting money, passports, credit cards in different places and one on your person if possible). But I don't think sinking ships or news of natural disasters or terrorists will keep us from traveling. We won't be going to the world's more dangerous places, of course.

We have even started blocking out some times and refusing to make plans for local events during those times.

I've always been a big fan of travel myself. When I traveled for business, I almost always found some time to do some sightseeing. When himself still worked his small business and wouldn't be gone for too long, we'd do long weekends and I'd go for longer trips with friends or meeting up with them and more or less going on my own. When I was a mere twenty-four years old I quit a perfectly good job and went to Europe armed with a Eurail Pass and a desire to see places that seemed impossibly far away during my impecunious childhood and college years. I've never regretted it.

So Bon Voyage to me. Multiple good trips. I hope. And even if something bad happens...well, if you don't survive...what a way to go. And if you do...what a story.

Is there a Draft? Do I Measure Up?

I can't seem to post here. There are a half dozen or more drafts sitting around unposted. They include pictures, edited and re-edited thoughts, tags. But I do not hit publish.

I tweet. Which is all I can do, it seems with my head full of my reaction to current allergens in Central Texas. (The pollen of the mountain juniper aka 'cedar' and mold.)

Maybe I'll edit some of that junk and publish it. Or maybe I'll just keep tweeting and having the tweets fire off to facebook. It's come to that.

I do like this picture, though. Good old Uncommon Objects.

Where To Begin

After a long pause, I finally got around to writing a blog entry on Monday, November 14. I felt a bit adrift then. We were planning a little celebration (of our first date) with some friends. We had a trip to New York scheduled. (Which we took December 5-12. The above picture is our multiple reflections in one of the Bloomingdale Christmas windows.) I couldn't decide what, if anything to do about Christmas and the holidays. Whether to send cards, buy presents for anyone.

On November 16 my mother-in-law died. (The events of that day are somewhat interesting. See Forrest's description here.) That capped off a year and a half during which Forrest had a cancer scare and two surgeries; my dad died; his dad died; I disposed of my Dad's estate; he handled his dad's; and his mother died, leaving us parent-less. Then we begin disposing of his mother's estate.

There were three services, burials and such to arrange during what seemed like such a short time. There were fiduciary duties. There were (mercifully short) trips to MD Anderson, times in hospitals here. Three ambulance rides at the end for parents. Through it all we were very 'lucky.' Lucky FFP's cancer has apparently not spread. Lucky our parents didn't suffer too long. (My mother died in 2002 and, sadly, she did suffer a lot longer than I would have liked. My dad, of course, had his share of problems in the last few years.). But still. We were lucky. We had the money to handle things, for me to retire and take care of things for Dad after mother died. For Forrest to retire. We had time to see my dad through some trouble, to look after some things for his parents. We have the money now to not worry about money but just do what needs to be done with houses and stuff and all that.

Lucky or not, things are different. I realized after my dad died that I'd stayed young (in my own mind) and exuded confidence that I could take care of things trying to help him through his old age. Forrest did most of the things for his mom but her presence made me feel younger. Because she needed us, didn't she? Because we were young and strong and capable, right?

Now we can arrange to travel and not worry about what parental difficulties may arise at home. But, of course, we may find ourselves in difficulties. Can't really escape that.

We have kind of sleep-walked through the last six weeks. We went on with our schedule after a few days of handling my mother-in-law's services. We cleaned the valuables and mementos out of the house. We drifted through Christmas. I finally printed a few cards and sent them post-Christmas. We had a fancy dinner with friends on Christmas Eve and we were invited to a family gathering with someone else's family for Christmas Day. I didn't buy any presents except hostess gifts. FFP and I bought whatever we wanted and I sent money to my nieces and sister.

Now I wake up and it is 2012 and I'm vacillating between wanting to make some changes (blog, write my novel, exercise more, socialize with people, travel here, travel there, get rid of stuff, get new stuff) and wanting to roll down the shutters and be a recluse, changing as little as possible and buying nothing.

Where will I go with it? Will the blog record the journey or will I go back inside my head? Too early to tell. Going through old blog entries for the links in this entry make me realize that sometimes it does help just to write it down.

Om My Walk

Life is so complicated these days that you have to leave home to relax. Get in the theater with your smart phone politely silenced and put in your pocket, concentrate on the production for a couple of hours. Go on a walk where you have to watch the ground for things to trip on and watch for cars or bikes that might collide with you, focus only on what's really nearby and what's in your head.

Even driving there is so much input as you whiz by things. Walking is the best way to relax and concentrate your attention. On a walk you can clearly see the litter, the dead animals, the details on houses and businesses. You can stop and window shop. Maybe look at antiques on the east side (as above). I get my camera out and shoot a picture or two, but at home I'm often looking at slides shows of years of pictures. (I know, I know.) If I watch TV I'm always reading as well, usually a stack of newspapers. I will skip over to e-mail, check Twitter, feeds and facebook and get distracted by linking to interesting stuff. Mostly I think of things I should do: pay a bill, plan some event, organize something, clean something. Can't do that if you are out putting one foot in front of the other.

I have thought of working on a novel while sitting at my computer and have even written a few words of it. But in my head, on my walks, I have meditated my way to the end of the novel. Not all the characters have names but the arcs through time are there, a completely invented world over decades, pretty well worked out. It will never be committed to paper, though, because I'd have to sit at home, with all the distractions, and type it up. Just glancing up at the bookshelf threatens to take me away. On a walk there are plenty of distractions but they come at you slow and give you to time to think, to create, mantra or not.

Speak, Memory

One of my ongoing agonies is a lack of an accurate record of where I've been, what I've done, how far I've walked and what I ate. A blog is one way to keep up with stuff like that. I haven't posted here since May. So, yeah, that's not working. Oh I've tweeted. Posted pictures of Austin daily. And perhaps scribbled in a notebook or private little logging app. But my life and my history and the history of our time here is essentially getting lost faster than I care to ponder. Not that my life that important. No, it's really not.

But as the anniversary of 9/11 approaches you wonder what you were thinking then. In ten years, I might wonder what I was doing as Texas tried to burn down around me.

I used to organize a daily journal. Online. And I spent considerable time scribbling in notebooks. Notebooks I still have somewhere or have transcribed into (probably lost) files on the computer.

Given all the disasters that abound these days and my good luck (so far) at dodging them, it is interesting what I wrote on 9/13/2001:

Either the molds or the cumulative feeling of helplessness, is making me sick. I take some Dimetapp, drink Sleepy Time Tea and eschew alcohol and caffeine and try to get a good night's sleep. I'm such a wimp. What if something had actually happened to me?

I'm happy to be able to look at my situation and see how lucky I really am. That nothing really significant has touched me. My planes stayed in the air, the 1981 flood didn't reach the house and when I've stumbled on paths near precipices I've been spared the short acceleration to the rocks at the bottom.

But the memory thing. Where was I with that?

What sparks memory anyway? Why do I forget what happened in a tennis game just seconds before and then suddenly say "oh, yeah, passed down the line" or "sailed my overhead volley out." Or never remember at all. Why do pictures evoke an experience for us, even come to represent it totally? Why is everything happening so fast that we can't really record it? Does it help or hurt that all our social media contacts are out there connecting us to people, places, events and ideas we can't embrace ourselves?

I started thinking about writing this ramble one day when I was thinking about things I saw on the hike and bike trail. I heard these two guys talking. One said something like "Do your kids spend a lot of time at your house?" I was going to write it down or tweet it later and then I thought: were they running or riding bikes? Weird. Absent that detail from memory it stopped me in my tracks. On subsequent trail walks, I tried to remember a few encounters more accurately. But still they were missing pieces. Today I saw a pair of small poodles. But I don't remember who was running with them. I saw the Indian chief (a bronzed, bare-chested guy with his gray hair in braids) but I couldn't tell you what kind of shorts he wore. I saw an Old English sheepdog but don't remember the person with him (or was it a she dog?). I do think the owner was female. I heard a guy say into his phone: "Do you know how valuable that is?" It was a man, looked like a businessman, tall. But I don't remember much else about hin. Things are remembered but many more things are lost.

In yesterday's NY Times Science Times there was an article on the development of the memory process. It shows that children develop memories but have trouble retrieving the source of the memory. I empathized with the children in this test. I know I saw something, but when??? Maybe this is why I can't play Bridge well. You have to remember the bidding, the hand being played. It's a blur for me with all the other hands, other times. Maybe I have a child brain. I wonder if I can develop a way to remember things in a better way in my twilight years?

Clearly, it's not possible to make an adequate record of things external to oneself and use that as a crutch. Sure I saved some info from 9/11/2001 but by that very act it almost becomes everything I remember.

I cadged the title for today's piece from a memoir collection by Vladimir Nabokov. And I will use a quote from him to address my final worry about memory and its incompleteness and usefulness. I worry that if I use real things in fiction (which I, of course, never write or at least never complete) that it will rob the thing of some truthfulness. Here's my parting quote:

I have often noticed that after I had bestowed on the characters of my novels some treasured item of my past, it would pine away in the artificial world where I had so abruptly placed it. Although it lingered on in my mind, its personal warmth, its retrospective appeal had gone and, presently, it became more closely identified with my novel than with my former self, where it had seemed to be so safe from the intrusion of the artist.

And so it goes. Another reason not to write 'my' fiction: I would lose even more of my real past!

We may discuss this memory thing, further, lads and lasses, but I've decided to hit publish. Shocking, I know. Perhaps it will not be another three months.

The Importance of Strangers

We are dependent, as social animals, on other people. Most of us crave interaction with people we know: doing activities, talking, eating, participating in cultural events and talking about them. We like to be able to predict what others will do. We like knowing that one friend will always be late, one will always order then change the order. We like the predictability of our friends' wardrobes and personal ticks.

But we also crave being around strangers or people we barely know. We like watching them interact. We like sorting them into types in our head, but having the slight frisson of seeing that they are wearing something slightly odd or ordering something weird or behaving in a way we couldn't have predicted.

I have thought of this more and more as I've gotten older. How pleasurable it is to be around people without any high duty to interact with them. (I'm actually shy with strangers so not needing to interact much is key.) Over the years, before I married and after I married during travel without my husband I spent many an hour sitting alone in a cafe or restaurant, in a park, on a bus or train. Just watching others. Delighted by their endless variety and yet their capacity for fitting expectations.

The other day we took a walk and on South Congress we stopped in the venerable junk mall that is Uncommon Objects. A lot of the 'booths' (really just areas rented to dealers) have old photos for sale and I always flip through them. I don't know what I'm looking for but maybe it's 'interesting strangers of the past.' I'm also intrigued with how the photos came to be a commodity and left the possession of the people who had emotional attachment to them.

I bought three such photos yesterday.

Helen, Kay & I

Two photos were of three young women enjoying some good times together. The one to the left is labeled on the back (see right): "Helen Kay & I Sept 20-44 our picnic by the tennis courts" (Click on images to enlarge.) We don't know who is shooting the picture or where they might be. A country club, I'm guessing. The war is still on in Europe and Japan. Was this photo sent to a soldier or sailor so he could think of happier times when he was near his wife/girlfriend/sister and had access to HiHo crackers and other goodies. And a park or club? Or maybe a Schlitz beer. (See below.) The second picture seems definitely to be a country club or maybe some armed forces base club somewhere. There are more strangers in this picture. Maybe the gentlemen and lady are even strangers to the three women. The back simply has on it: "Kay Helen Me." They are enjoying their Schlitz (and Helen has champagne assuming she's in the middle) and they might have enjoyed a swim. What are these people thinking? And...where are they now? They were, what, twenty-somethings in 1944? So they might be ninety or so if still alive. Maybe the I/Me person had these pictures and she died and they ended up in the bin at Uncommon Objects. Wouldn't it be strange if someone saw this on the Internet and recognized one of these people? That probably won't happen. They will just be these unknown people. Predictable for their era and yet a bit unknown.



Shipboard

As I said, when these pictures were taken, there was still a war raging in Europe and the Pacific. The third picture I plucked from that bin was taken on a ship. Maybe in that WWII era. Four sailors pose somewhere on a ship.

On the back is written, simply:

Dembrowski
Zagshack
Kennawell
Ates

At least I think that's what it says. Here's an image. That last name might be Otis?

Was this picture sent home to the gals above? What happened to these guys? Where were they from? They are like strangers you pass on the street and never see again. One of many. Sorted into categories. Who went on, maybe died in the war or much later. Who maybe sit somewhere, capacity felled by age.

A Part, Apart

People wear me out. There. I've said it. It's enervates me to socialize. (Enervate, vt, to weaken mentally or physically.) I like alone time even if I'm out among strangers but not specifically supposed to be engaged with them.

I took this photo in Dallas, on McKinney Avenue, while walking around by myself. (FFP was getting a massage in the hotel spa.)

I realized today that I'm the right age and in the appropriate physical decline to participate in group travel. But. No. Cruise, maybe. (I still want to get FFP to try a cruise.)

On the other hand I like to be a part of things. I like to be included. As a kid I wanted to be in groups that had uniforms. I loved uniforms.

Now I don't want to belong to groups. But I do want to feel like I'm a part of things. But, you know, apart. I've been feeling a little depressed and adrift lately. I hate to feel like that. Especially when I should feel great. When, by external measures, things are going great.

That Hair, Attention Deficit and Whatever

My head has been stuffed lately. With ideas. About 'doing work.' By which I do NOT mean dusting, vacuuming and scrubbing. Rather art. Novels and photos. Ideas abound. Action is lacking. In spite of the fact that, with certain things off my plate and the fact that I'm retired...I do seem to have some nice blocks of time. I'm very lucky.

Last entry I talked about my clothes. But. Then there are other things about our appearance. Hair, for example. Note here: it sticks up in a (somewhat unpredictable, I like the word insouciant) way.

I struggled for years. With curlers and hairdressers and hair dryers. With long and short. And, finally, I have short hair ("it makes you look younger" someone said once, I never looked back). I wash every day (every time I shower) and put some gel on and let it dry naturally and if I want to later I put some dry hair goop on it to make it stick up in even more unpredictable ways. I no longer think about it. And then, in my self-portrait reflection pictures, I'm happy with it. It's me.

Our lives are charmed. I'm starting to think about writing. And making collages. Or digitally altered photos. Or collages of digitally-altered photos. But. Right Now. I need a nap. Life is good.

Dress Up

What we wear is so much a part of who we are. Isn't it? We would prefer that people looked beyond our 'rags' I'm sure. But they don't. As I type this I am sitting here in white tennis shorts and a white polo (purchased on the cheap at Costco). It is possible I stink a bit since the dried sweat is now ready to give off that metallic smell. I played tennis, finished eight hours ago and haven't changed or showered.

I still remember the first polo shirt I ever owned. It may have been the first knit shirt I owned. The first thing that wasn't sewn by my mother or grandmother. We got it at some discount store, a one-off precursor of the big box discounters of today. I remember standing in the yard of our house, wearing it. It was windy. I was enjoying wearing that polo so much. I wanted a bunch of them.

I always loved jeans. Bear in mind that I went to school for 15 and 1/2 years where pants were verboten for girls. (Worked a couple of years in business after college where the dress code forbade pants, too.) But I loved pants. And tailored blazers. I still do. I don't remember when I last wore a skirt. It was very possibly in 2002 when I was faced with the third or fourth funeral service in a few weeks time and had run out black outfits. I trotted out a black skirt which I still own. The jacket that matches it is probably due a replacement but that skirt probably hasn't been worn since. Oh, wait! No...the last time I wore a skirt was probably after that. Someone invited us to a 'white tie and ball gowns' party. No, I didn't wear a ball gown. I wore a long velvet skirt and a velvet top to sort of look like a gown.

These days I have a few basic modes of dress and with these I try to get by in the situations polite society presents. If an event is really casual I will wear jeans (a loose fit Levis Men's style that happens to fit off the shelf) and a long or short sleeved button-up blouse depending on the season. I might wear a blazer, windbreaker or leather jacket if it's chilly. Sweaters, too, when appropriate. (Which is hardly ever in Austin but I do travel elsewhere.) I will wear hiking boots, tennis shoes or loafers to fit the occasion. To be a little dressier I'll choose the black-wash jeans and loafers. If I'm just hiking around, I might wear a polo with the jeans.

If an event is a little dressier I will wear a suit with pants or slacks and blazer with a button-up blouse. Maybe a covered placket blouse or some pleats to fancy it up. Maybe even, choke, a piece of jewelry or a scarf. I wear my nicest flats. I can still walk a couple of miles in them. I have one pair of lace up black and cordovan spectators I sometimes wear, too.

For black tie I wear tuxedo pants and a top with a bit of spangle or maybe really wear a tuxedo (coat, too). I have a silver turtle neck, various sparkly tops, vests, tuxedo shirts. I wear a pair pf flat 'tuxedo' pumps There are Cole Haans as are most of flats and loafers. A few of my shoes are Ballys, though.

For tennis or the gym, I wear something from a small collection of shorts, polos, sweats.

And that's it.

I enjoy wearing jeans or slacks and blazers. I enjoy having pockets. My blazers or suits are either custom-made, expensive women's wear or men's wear tailored to fit. All have pockets.

I feel sorry for women who are forced to wear certain clothing. I feel sorry for women who feel they have to wear high heels or short dresses or ball gowns. It's hard to know who is really wearing what pleases them. I empathize with men who want to wear women's wear. I understand that one just wants the clothing they want. But me? Most of the time, now, I am happy with my clothes and I also manage not to offend those around me. I hope anyway.

And I mostly get by with my sartorial choices, too. A black blazer covers a multitude of sins. So to speak.

[Photo: SoCo boutique. Me and FFP.]