Hot Time: Summer in the City

We’re back on the Left Coast after our yet again not-long-enough stay in NYC. The highlight of every trip, of course,  is seeing all the kids and grandkids. Seeing them in 100-plus-degree heat is something else entirely…something for me to think about the next time I whine and carry on about the bone-chilling temps here in So Cal.

Daniel, cool as ever despite the NYC heat

Angie brought the boys all the way in from the Hamptons so we could see them for an evening, and of course I forgot my camera but did get a few phone snaps. They’re both so big! And Thomas is now a six-year-old!

Jamesy and Grandpa

Happy birthday, Thomas!

Tina brought her girls in from Connecticut for one last city visit before they make their big cross-country move to re-locate down the coast from us in CA.  Their timing was impeccable: someone thoughtfully  set up a twenty-foot Smurf across the street from our apartment that day expressly for the girls’ entertainment.

Evie enjoys her day in the city

Smurfs!

A NYC tradition: swimming with Grandpa

Viv bundles up after her swim

A late-afternoon cloudburst cooled things off a bit

Princess Tina and her girls enjoying apres-swim cotton candy at Landmarc

Speaking of impeccable timing, the CE took the train down to WDC to visit Taylor during the weekend that temps there reached 116 degrees. Proof, perhaps, that our nation’s capital has devolved into an anteroom of Hell. Our guys wisely took shelter in air-conditioned museums and restaurants.

If this pic looks familiar, scroll back to the San Diego post of cousin Nick photographing his beloved steak. It must be genetic!

At the National Gallery of Art

While Taylor and the CE cooked in WDC, I took Daniel and some of his friends to see Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Pt. 2 on the IMAX screen in New York City. We all loved it! Great movie!

Daniel and his friends Cristina, Mary and Peter stopped by our apartment to say hi

The temperatures cooled a bit toward the end of our stay (into the high 90′s) and we ventured downtown a few times, once to visit the High Line, which has been significantly extended since our last jaunt there. We got a kick out of the birdhouses they’ve installed, which look remarkably like scaled-down versions of human city living.

High-rent birdhouses on the High Line (image from moderndestiny.com)

We were working on calorie containment after our weekend of culinary abandon in Chicago, but we couldn’t resist visiting two of our favorite downtown restaurants, Pastis and Balthazar.

I wanted steak frites at Balthazar but decided the bouillabaisse was a healthier choice...except they serve it in a vat big enough for four!

Our in-the-know friends, Marjorie and Ellery, introduced us to a new favorite in Midtown: Ma Peche, a satellite of famed chef David Chang’s Momofuku dynasty. We had the best spring rolls I’ve ever tasted and enjoyed the chance to drink a sake toast to M&E, who were heading off to Paris later that day. When (if) I grow up, I want their life!

Ma Peche on 56th between 5th and 6th (image from offthepresses.blogspot.com)

We finished off our East Coast visit with two wonderful jolts of culture. It was our last chance to see the Alexander McQueen exhibit at the Met, since it closes August 7. The event title is Savage Beauty, but it was more about Savage Crowds. The line to get in was two-and-a-half-hours long, even though they’ve extended museum hours to midnight to accommodate the demand. Luckily, we had decided to purchase a membership to the Met during our last visit, which allowed us to skip the queue.

McQueen was fond of using dyed duck feathers in his pieces (image from style.com)

This was one of my favorites! (image from style.com)

Despite the crush of visitors (the exhibit is projected to rank in the top 20 of the museum’s all-time most popular offerings by the time it closes) and a few decidedly testy Met guards (down, Girl, down!), we were so glad we went. By my lights, McQueen’s talent truly transcended fashion as costume and into the realm of art.

Thanks to a recommendation from Marjorie and Ellery, we spent our last evening in the city with Sigmund Freud and C.S. Lewis at a performance of Freud’s Last Session. Poignant and thought-provoking: 80 minutes went by much faster than you might expect. Off-Broadway in an airy theatre on W. 64th.

Mark H. Dold, the immensely appealing and captivating actor who plays C.S. Lewis in "Freud's Last Session" (image from contactmusic.com)

The upside of bi-coastal living is having the best of both worlds. The downside is always feeling like you’re missing out on something on the other side. It’s a conundrum, but a lovely one to suffer. One of our most prized experiences in the city is the 9:15 am Worship at Redeemer Presbyterian on the UWS. These last two Sundays we heard about that imperfect,  devious and grasping fellow, Jacob, and how he wrestled with God. Ah, don’t we all? I just found that you can download podcasts by Redeemer Presbyterian Pastor Tim Keller on iTunes: http://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/timothy-keller-podcast/id352660924

Happy to be back in CA. Can’t wait to return to NYC!

Kathy Ireland, Super-Christian-Model

I want to be Kathy Ireland.

Kathy Ireland (image from topsocialite.com)

Well, duh, yeah, obviously.

But not for those reasons. Yes, Kathy, the supermodel who graced the cover of Sports Illustrated three times and whose beauty remains flawlessly undiminished, is someone whose life many women would happily trade for.  Kathy, the mom who has raised three children, and Kathy, the businesswoman who runs multi-national companies, is someone many would stand in line to emulate.

Starting with a line of socks for KMart, Kathy has built Kathy Ireland Worldwide to a $1 billion company (image from kathyirelandbedrooms.cm)

But it’s Kathy Ireland, the Christian, whose life I really want.

I am not a morning person in any sense of the word. Since I’ve been in the grip of insomnia these past few years, my typical pattern is to be wide awake at 2 am and blessedly fall back to sleep around 5. But yesterday, because of Kathy Ireland, 5 am was the wake-up call for the already wide-awake.

Kathy was the featured speaker at a Good Friday breakfast the CE and I have been lucky enough to attend the past few years. I wondered, as I shuffled sleepily into the packed room, if Kathy might be just the teensiest bit little less alluring in the early hours of the morning but I must report that she looked absolutely radiant as she sat on the dais, perfectly composed in a tailored white suit.

And then, she did something very un-supermodel-ish. She stood up and spoke, eloquently and at length, about Jesus Christ and the cross.

Here’s a uTube video of Kathy’s statement of faith:

In a time when Earth Day seems bigger than Easter and saving the planet gets you way more points than saving your soul, an address on the topic of why Good Friday is “Great Friday” can make your head spin (especially when you’re extremely short on sleep).

Kathy encountered her first steps in her walk with the Lord, which occurred when she was a teenager modeling in Paris (“I wish I could say the experience was as glamorous as it sounds”, she said) and she discovered that her mother, who had recently become a Christian, had packed a Bible in Kathy’s suitcase. She randomly opened it to the book of Matthew and “As I read about Jesus, I fell in love with him; he became my lord, my savior and my best friend.”

Kathy in Haiti after the earthquake (image from constantcontact.com)

She went on to speak of being a “baby Christian” for what she felt was an overly-long time. This term is jargon for one who takes the first step toward accepting Jesus Christ as savior but who does not go on to grow in his or her faith and can be easily derailed or distracted.

I thought about this as she spoke, and realized, guiltily, that I am not a baby Christian. Not even. I am much of the time, what I would term an “airplane Christian”.

"There are no atheists in foxholes...or airplanes..."

We have a good friend whose long career in professional basketball logs him more frequent-flyer miles than some of us could count. He once told the story of being on an airplane with an up-and-coming hoops star who was a skeptic. They discussed their differences amiably and our friend finally said to the young man, only half in jest “Well, if you’re right, and this airplane crashes, it’s no big deal. But if I’m right and the plane crashes, I go to heaven, and you…don’t.”

Okay, so that’s overly simplistic and perhaps even theologically suspect. But, like Kathy’s words, it made me think. If nothing else, abject terror can convert one into a hedge-betting Christian.

This, of course, makes a “baby Christian” look extremely good by comparison. So even if Kathy Ireland had not progressed from that stage, she would have me beat not only in beauty and accomplishment, but in faith, as well.

Kathy has surged far ahead of her “baby Christian” days. She is open and unswerving in her faith, telling a reporter after her speech “When (Jesus) comes first, everything else falls into place.”

Tomorrow is another early wake-up call. We head to the beach for a sunrise service at 6 am. The prayer on my heart (besides the one that goes “Lord, please grant me coffee” ) will be that God might transform me – not into Kathy Ireland, the Supermodel (because that may just be the one miracle beyond His power) but  into Kathy Ireland, the Christian.  Amen and Happy Easter!

RX: Stay Busy

Very glad we were in NYC when the news of my father’s death arrived. Taylor was coming up for the weekend and the three other kids plus grandkids are here, so we’ve been blessed with companionship/solace/distraction. Given the circumstances, it’s been a good week.

Tina and family came in from Connecticut last Sunday for brunch and a dip in our building’s pool.

Ev and Viv dance on the fountain at Lincoln Center (for about 3 seconds until several of NY's finest swooped down and busted them!)

Swimming with Grandpa has become a tradition during our visits:

Viv and Grandpa

Family fun!

When Taylor visits, our agenda turns to food. He’s almost 6’5″ and has the metabolism of a hummingbird. We walked over to our fave nabe place, Cafe Fiorello, for a bite of lasagna:

That's a SINGLE order, folks. And yes, he ate every bite.

The CE was hoping for snow, a wish he shared with every New Yorker he encountered, risking great bodily harm in the process. It’s been a long winter here. His prayers were answered with a fresh few inches of the white stuff early in the week:

We awoke to this lovely sight.

Not as much fun when you're standing there FREEZING, is it, CE?

In an effort to be “real” New Yorkers, we did not let the snow slow us down. We headed over to the UES to see the just-opened Van Cleef & Arpels jewelry exhibit at the Cooper-Hewitt. Not to be missed next time you’re in the city. The exhibit runs through June 5, and the museum itself – Andrew Carnegie’s former home – is a jewel.

A must-see!

The CE’s Christmas gift from me was a night at the opera, specifically, La Boheme at the Met. It was a lovely evening.

The CE at Lincoln Center

Since I recently finished a biography of Theodore Roosevelt, I had on my to-do list for this visit a trip downtown to find his birthplace.  It’s right there at 28 E. 20th Street, complete with a guided tour of the house conducted on the hour.

This is where Theodore Roosevelt spent the first years of his life.

As always, we spent time with Ang, Bob, the boys and Tiny, who, unfortunately, had a bit of a scrape with another dog this week. Poor baby has seven stitches in his ear:

Awwwwww...

James and Bobby having a laugh at Carmine's

Yesterday we enjoyed what has become a tradition with each of our visits to the city. Tina came into the city and Ang and Karen dashed over to join us for a child-free champagne respite.

Bless the babysitters! Yay!

What happens after glass #2 of champagne...

Daniel has been camera-shy this visit, but we’re meeting him for dinner tonight and I’ll try to get a few snaps to add to this post. Tomorrow we fly to Chicago and drive to Indiana. My father’s funeral service will be held Tuesday morning. Thanks to everyone for all the thoughtful encouragement this past week.

As promised, we went back to St. Patrick's Cathedral and lit another candle for my dad.

Final Gifts

My father died yesterday. He was 89 years old and lived a full, happy life. We were not especially close; a product of the “Greatest Generation”, he provided faithfully for his family, and considered the little time he had left over after working ten-hour days, six days a week, to be his own. He was in his element on the golf course and in his public life, where he delighted in the attention he received as a small town celebrity, dispensing gardening advice over the radio waves and to packed audiences of gray-haired ladies at local garden clubs.

You don’t miss what you don’t know, so it was never of great concern to me that I didn’t have much of a relationship with my father. The distance was a comfortable one; he was always cheerful, never mean, rarely angry – he just wasn’t generally present.

This arrangement worked well until about ten years ago, when my mother died and Dad was diagnosed with aggressive prostate cancer a few months later. Perhaps he re-evaluated his life. Perhaps he was lonely at the loss of my mother. Whatever the catalyst, suddenly my father was interested in me. He asked about my children. He actively sought a relationship with my husband.

This was annoying, to say the least. I don’t do well with change.

Now I was having to make room in my life for someone who had never been part of it and I, being the deeply flawed person I am, resented the imposition. Where had he been during my childhood? Where had he been during the early years of my children’s childhoods? My thoughts ran along the lines of an uptight theatre usher: “No late seating allowed!”

Fortunately, my father was patient and persistent, and my husband provided gentle reminders around the theme of “better late than never”. I slowly adjusted to sharing a bit more of my life with my father and hearing about his. He liked to talk, by the way. His stories were many and long. He savored his life, especially now that he’d had a cancer scare which had been barely beaten into remission through an intense course of radiation that left him with nerve damage in his legs and a panoply of other side effects. He never complained. He always smiled.

At one point, I happened to mention I had just read Thomas Merton’s Seven Storey Mountain, which is widely touted as a modern-day parallel to the Confessions of Saint Augustine. He expressed interest; I sent him a copy of the book. Soon after, he paid a visit to his parish priest and asked if he might renew his acquaintance at church. He was heartily welcomed, of course, because God is a much more gracious being than stubborn and resentful adult daughters. God understands “better late than never”, and it is never too late with Him. In his last years, my father attended mass often, sometimes daily, and he became close pals with Father Sullivan.

Dad on our last trip to Las Vegas; March 2010.

The cancer, inevitably, returned. The last year and a half of his life was a blur of ups and downs. He began to end all of our phone conversations with “I love you”, another change that called me deep consternation. In our family, no one ever, ever said I love you (a failing that I may have over-corrected in my own parenting, since my constant declarations of adoration for my children have led them to consider themselves, if anything, somewhat over-loved.) Responding in kind was a tough order. I stumbled over the words; the awkwardness of this new intimacy made me hesitate and stammer. Did I mention that I am deeply flawed?

A final, cruel run of chemotherapy last spring took more out of him than he could bear, and he finally said “enough”. The doctors told him he should probably make the acquaintance of the local Hospice folks, but, characteristically for him, he never wanted to trouble anyone so he managed to the very end without engaging their services. He nearly died before Thanksgiving, but rallied for the holidays and celebrated his 89th birthday in January with a visit to a nearby casino.

He never, ever complained. Not once. He demonstrated a courage and a grace that astounded me and everyone around him. During our last visit in December, he took my husband aside, as he had many times before, to tell him how much he admired him for both success as a businessman and his devotion to me and our children. I often joked that my father had a “man-crush” on the CE. What was probably more accurate was that he saw and admired in the CE was a dedication and fulfillment in marriage and fatherhood that he wistfully wished he could have shared.

The CE and my father - Dad loved having his picture taken with his "man-crush"

A few weeks after his birthday in January, he returned to the hospital with complications from the cancer, which was now on a crash-course, attacking organs throughout his abdominal cavity. The doctors suggested he might have two to three months to live. Working around our scheduled trip to the East coast, the CE and I tried to decide if we should stop through the Midwest to visit Dad on our way to New York or the way home. We chose the latter, thinking he would be in better shape after a chance to rally from the latest surgery. He had begun physical therapy and was hopeful of being released from the hospital soon.

I spoke with Dad almost every day in the past few weeks. With long practice, I was finally improving at our parting “I love you’s”. On Monday, I told him I had stepped into St. Patrick’s Cathedral to light a candle for him and say a prayer. He was deeply emotional and wept with gratitude at this simple indulgence, thanking me profusely. I did not tell him that my prayer was that he not be asked to suffer unduly. On Tuesday, he told me again how grateful he was that I had lit a candle for him. He cried again. “I’ll see you soon, Dad”, I said. “I love you, too.”

On Wednesday morning, I received a call that Dad had gone into renal failure and slipped into unconsciousness. That night, I lay awake, wondering if I should catch a plane in the morning. I drifted into sleep around 6 am and was awakened by a call at 9 – Dad had passed away a half hour before. In the end, it was not him that waited too long, but me. But thanks to his concerted and persistent efforts over the past several years to salvage our relationship, there was nothing left unsaid and no unfinished business to be conducted. He was at peace with God and with his family; a final gift for us all.

Dad was a “celebrity” to the end; his passing was announced as “breaking news” on the Elkhart Truth’s web-site, where a story about him is posted today: http://www.etruth.com/Know/News/Story.aspx?ID=535427

Merriest of Merry to all!

Christmas Eve

The Story Of Christmas

From Luke 2: 1-20

And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed. (And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.) And all went to be taxed, everyone into his own city. And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem; (because he was of the house and lineage of David) To be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child. And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered. And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.

And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying,

“Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.”

And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us. And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger. And when they had seen it, they made known abroad the saying which was told them concerning this child. And all they that heard it wondered at those things which were told them by the shepherds. But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart. And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things that they had heard and seen, as it was told unto them.

From our home to yours, we wish you a blessed Christmas Day!

It’s beginning to look a lot like…YIKES, I’m not ready!

Note to self and anyone else who might be listening: not such a great idea to go gallavanting around the country until halfway through the Advent season…I mean, it’s not like elves show up and do all the work for you.

Except that sometimes they do.

Thank you, Julia and Grant!

I don’t know how we can be so incredibly fortunate to have such wonderfully elvish friends. We arrived home to a house so clean it appeared that the carpets might have been raked (some combination of Dave and Paz on that one), a cheese and fruit plate awaiting us in the kitchen and fresh flowers in our bedroom (Victoria!) and everyplace we looked, wreaths were hung, mantels were decorated, and Santas smiled at us from every corner of the house.

The animals were all beautifully cared for in our absence -  lots of fun walks for the dogs (thanks, Pamela and Victoria and Marie Christine!). Birdie gave us a little scare by injuring his leg (I’ve told him over and over again, no ju jitsu or ballroom dancing in the cage at night!) but seems to be recovering nicely. (Many thanks, Lori, Dan, Lauren and Chadd, for putting up with his troublesome and feathery little hindquarters!)

Birdie is on his 14th life and going strong!

And Hope looks plump again – her feathers are growing back nicely, although she is still a bit wanting in the tail section.

Holy moult! Hope I don't have to go through THAT again any time soon.

After being away nearly three weeks, we are struck by the sheer number of tasks that must be done on a daily basis to manage hearth, home and herd here. We are deeply and humbly grateful to everyone who pitched in to keep it all going.

Now I just have to find someone to cover for me in the Christmas readiness department. I’ve already missed my Christmas card deadline, so we’ll be sending New Year’s greetings this year. Gifts will be fewer and much further between.  We haven’t even begun to discuss a date to get the tree. It seems like the entire merrymaking operation is already too far behind to catch up.

Wherein, perhaps, lies an opportunity. I’m giving serious consideration to just hunkering down and focusing upon the Reason for the Season. I have a book called Watch for the Light: Readings for Advent and Christmas that sits untouched on the shelf eleven months of the year, and sometimes, I confess, for all twelve. This year, in my utter failure to meet the expectations of the material, perhaps I will have some success with the spiritual.

I ordered my copy from BasBleu.com, a nice little site for book lovers.

A book I don’t have but which sounds like a great gift (hint! hint!) is Praying Advent: Three Minute Reflections on Peace, Faithfulness, Joy, and Light by Joan Mueller. The product description reads: “For many Christians, Advent and Christmas is their favorite season, yet they find themselves overshadowed with shopping, preparations for Christmas, unexpected snow and ice storms, holiday parties and endless other distractions. Although the tree might be decorated and the presents wrapped, Christmas sometimes simply falls upon us, our souls feeling woefully unprepared.” I think she’s talking to me!

Three minutes a day - even I might be able to handle that!

I find the mystery of and the promise inherent in the birth of Christ to be soul-fulfilling, but I know that’s not the case for everyone.  I did a web search to come up with alternative readings for my non-Christian readers but it came up woefully short. If you’re feeling charitable and open-minded, I suggest a reading of Mere Christianity, the great classic by C.S. Lewis.

And if you’re not, would you mind, instead, going out and doing all my shopping for me?

"I believe I'll just go with the flow"

Baked Apple.

110 yesterday at Yankee Stadium, they say. The AC is cranked up and we’re hunkered down for the duration.

Late afternoon view from our apartment

All worth it as this will be a four-for-four trip; we saw Angie and family before they fled to the Hamptons to cool down; Tina, John and Evie braved a day in the city to visit us for lunch and we will go out to CT tomorrow; Daniel has moved in with us at our apartment, which suggests we’ve done a better job of decorating here than they have at the Columbia dorms; and Taylor and Victoria (who is visiting him in WDC) are planning to come up and visit for the weekend. Lucky us!

We made breakfast for the Bookster in our tiny kitchen

The city is a bit deserted, and very little going on as far as the cultural scene, although I did see in today’s NYTimes that a few of the Real Housewives are scheduled to make an appearance at a local Barnes & Noble tomorrow, if that counts…

Jamesy!

Disco dancing is so 1980 - apres-bath nudie disc-dancing is the in thing

We’ve had a great time as usual, however. We’ve walked and walked this trip, most memorably on Saturday when we crossed from the west side of the Park to the east and had brunch at the Central Park Boathouse, overlooking the lake where hardier souls rowed rental boats while we sipped our iced tea on the restaurant veranda. The food was MUCH improved over our last visit there a few years back.

Central Park Boathouse

We were also fortunate to hear one of the country’s most eminent pastors, Tim Keller, preach on Sunday at Church of the Redeemer’s west side service – just two blocks from our apartment. Keller’s book, The Reason for God: Belief in an Age of Skepticism was a New York Times best-seller.

According to Booklist, Keller's book "just made life harder for preaching atheists"

Last Sunday’s sermon was focused on explaining the nature of the Holy Spirit, which was a big favor for me, since I grew up Roman Catholic hearing about “the Holy Ghost” and was convinced that some terrifying guy in a giant Casper-the-ghost suit was going to pounce at any moment.

Speaking of religious experiences, tonight is the Lady GaGa concert at Madison Square Garden, and Daniel has Row K tickets, thanks to his very generous parents and very connected brother-in-law. Thanks again, Bobby!

Poker Face