Pen and Ink

Giving thanks.

Our richness in life is determined, in my humble opinion, about the people who surround us. Those who are there to celebrate our successes, hold our hands at times when we are blue, and to just be our friends on all of the other days of the year. This Thanksgiving Day, I am thankful I have my family -- my parents (who are visiting right now), Kathy and Mike, and Sue, Al, Frank, Maggie and Antonia. I also am blessed to have my chosen family, six guys I love dearly (in alpha order): Cary, Christopher, Claude, Drew, John and Martin. My life would be really boring without them. And on a lighter note, I posted this commercial last year. I had forgotten about it until just now when I went back to last November's posts to see what I had done for Thanksgiving. This is still funny, so enjoy it, once again. And happy Thanksgiving!

Japanese tranquility.

I made my first visit to Morikami Museum and Japanese Gardens in Delray on Sunday. Just lovely!

 

Indelible.

After 17 years with the same person, some sayings, mannerisms, habits become indelible. No matter how much time passes, there are just some things that cannot be erased.

Mike and I were really silly with each other.  Little phrases, funny voices...those things between two people that become uniquely theirs.

Lately some of those things have been coming to the surface again.

Take last week. As I was waiting for the gate to my community to open one night, I saw a raccoon run across the driveway and into the landscaping. He stopped and just looked at me.  I said, out loud, "Hello Mr. Raccoon," in the Mike-Glenn funny voice.

I startled myself at the unthinking ease at which I said those three words.

It happened again earlier this week.  Mike and I used to collect teddy bears (the family was divided in the divorce with each of us getting custody.)  We went nuts over anything related to teddy bears.

I was flipping through the new Williams Sonoma holiday catalog and found the best teddy bear cake pan and decorating gift. I shouted out, "Bear!" in the voice that Mike and I would use for all things teddy bear.

As time goes by and my Mikes and my relation fades into memory, these kinds of things seem silly. Before they were endearing. Some things just don't pass, I guess.  But it will be embarrasing when it happens when I have a new partner.

Caroling, caroling.

I'm getting into the Christmas thing early this year.  I've got a big holiday party coming up in a couple of weeks and actually made the "soundtrack" a couple of weeks ago. That could be what's gotten me into the mood.

I've found a couple of new Christmas albums this year, which have got me excited:

• Tony Bennett -- Swingin' Christmas
• Harry Connick, Jr. -- What a Night! A Christmas Album
• Broadway Cares/Equity Fights Aids -- Broadway's Greatest Gifts Carols for a Cure, vol. 10

The newest iteration of Carols for a Cure is only available from the Broadway Cares website, and I high encourage you to pick it up.  After all, it's for a good cause.  My two favorite tracks are a great version of "Children Go Where I Send Thee," which is not often recorded. This one is by the cast of Mary Poppins.  And for you Rent Heads, there's the terrific "Seasons/Love Heals -- A Rent Farewell."  It's not a Christmas song, but a really nice addition to the album.

Blathering on.

Well, I'm just back from a whirlwind trip to Boston and Vermont.  As much as I love being "home," it was friggin' cold. Now I remember why I left.  You should have seen me yesterday morning, 5:45 a.m., at the Exxon station on Boylston Street in the Fenway.  One hand pumping gas, the other hand holding my winter coat over my face.  Cold!

I stayed with Chris and Drew the first and third nights I was there, of course.  Got to see Martin and Michael on Friday, which was nice.

On Thursday, I drove to Vermont with Doug, a consultant from work with whom I am working on a major project.  We went up there to visit King Arthur Flour.  As a home baker, I regard King Arthur as Mecca.  Not only are they makers of all-natural flour, but they have a wonderful catalog and retail business and a baking education center. On top of it all, it's an employee-owned companies with really great values.  It was a pleasure to be there.  And the biscotti class we took on Thursday night was a lot of fun too.

Back in Florida, John picked me up, as my car has been in the shop for the past few days. We went for a bite of lunch and to prowl around Old TIme Pottery.  He went off on his way and I was home alone when Keith scared the shit out of me.  I was just getting out of the bathroom and heard someone in my bedroom!  Now, I don't mind men in my bedroom, but usually prefer it when I know they're coming.

But it was just Keith; he had wandered in through my open garage door. We had planned for him to take me to the grocery store, thinking that my car might not be done until Sunday. I had left him a voice mail saying it wasn't necessary, that my car was done, but the silly goof didn't have his phone.

Then Mom and Dad arrived for the week. We're having a nice visit so far. Today was a jaunt to the Morikami Museum and Gardens.  The Japanese gardens are spectacular; I had never been, so was really impressed.  As soon as I'm done writing this I am going to download the zillions of photos I took.

And so now I sit here in the late afternoon light writing this and contemplating a nap.  It's been a long few days.

Architectural travesty.

For nearly 25 years, I've been having a love affair. Not with a person, but with a place.  It was 1985 when I first stepped foot in Boston and instantly fell in love.  There are many reasons, but the built environment is one of them.  To this day, I walk through the city's neighborhoods and just marvel at its urban beauty.

But Boston, like any city, has its share of architectural failures.  In this case, its mostly the public structures that mar the landscape.

Turns out that I'm not the only one who thinks so.

On Yahoo today, I found a story about the Web site VirtualTourist.com, which has come up with a list of "The World's Top 10 Ugliest Buildings and Monuments" according to their editors and readers.

"Some of these picks have all the charm of a bag of nails while others are just jaw-dropping in their complexity. Love them or hate them, the list is certainly entertaining," said General manager Giampiero Ambrosi.

Number one on the list is Boston City Hall

According to the website, "While it was hip for it's time, this concrete structure now gets routinely criticized for its dreary facade and incongruity with the rest of the city's more genteel architecture. Luckily, it's very close to more aesthetically pleasing attractions."

I've always thought that this building, with its surrounding, vast brick wasteland, should be bulldozed. It has little redeeming value and is a blight on an otherwise beautiful downtown.

One would have thought that city planners would have learned the lesson of this 1970s travesty, but no. Decades letter, the Boston Police Department headquarters is another lesson in ugly.

Hopeful.

After a busy weekend -- me with stuff and he with the guy he's dating -- Cary and I found some time Monday evening to catch up by phone.  We had had breakfast together on Saturday, but really had not had a chance to talk 1:1 since then.  And for us, that's pushing the limit before going into withdrawal.

One topic on our agenda was my breakfast date with my neighbor on Sunday. After relating to him what happened, he asked me what I thought.

"I'm kinda smitten," I admitted.

"Oh please, you always say that about everyone you meet."

Not so, I admonished him. I've never ever used the word "smitten" in my life. Ever.

But as I thought about it over the next day, I wondered if maybe he was right. Aside from the flakes I've met, there have been a couple of people I've encountered who caused me to become hopeful, to imagine that maybe something might happen.

Perhaps I get too hopeful, too fast.

"Of course you do," said Meredith as I talked about this with her. "You're human. It's only natural.  And good for you for being able to feel that."

I needed some time by myself this spring and summer. After after being treated disrespectfully by the guy from Chicago with whom I developed a phone relationship, and another disappointment with someone else (a situation that I have not written about), I was ready to give it all up. 

Then the neighbor turned up on match.com and here I am wondering hopefully.

"Please stay that way," implored Meredith. "Too many people get bitter after a few bad experiences and lose the joyfulness in the mere possibility of a new relationship."

I'll try, but how much disappointment can one person take?  If nothing else, I'm providing good entertainment for Meredith and my friend Lu, who live vicariously through my dating escapades.

Life as soap opera.

Back in high school and college, I used to be addicted to Guiding Light, the oldest soap opera still on the air (it's all Martin's fault).

Anything can happen on a soap.  People die, only to return from the dead months or years later, often looking radically different, thanks to an excellent plastic surgeon.  Characters are written off in other ways, and reappear at some point in the future when new writers find a use for them.

I haven't watched Guiding Light since college days, but I keep up with it by reading headlines on the soap magazines while at the grocery store check out.  Ross is dead!  Reva and Josh got married for the 52nd time!  Vanessa is back!

Reva and Josh from Guiding Light

While the world of Springfield, USA, and the locales of other shows bear little resemblance to the places you and I live, I do think there is some commonality.  People do leave our lives, often returning in the future.  Generally they don't come back from the dead, but hey, who knows?

This has happened to me several times, quite happily.  One such person is Susan, a professional acquaintance from my days in Boston -- a bit player in my own little soap opera.  While we were friendly on a professional level in Boston, I really didn't know her.  But she kept in touch with me from time to time, after I moved to Florida, as she had family here and felt a connection to South Florida. 

Sure enough, she reappeared in my life a few years ago when she moved her consulting business and her husband to Miami.  She reached out and I was happy to see her, feeling a lack of a professional network in my new city.  "Oh thank God," I thought, "Someone who gets it!" 

I helped her meet people in Miami and even hired her myself two years ago. Over time, we have grown from professional acquaintances to true friends.  The "bit player" now has a contract as a "series regular" in my soap.

It's now happening again.  In May, I received a call from a Boston phone number. 

"Glennie, we're moving to Miami!!"

It was Madi, a woman with whom I worked for seven years starting back 20 years ago.  Madi's clinical program at the university and my alumni work had a lot of overlap, so we took some great business trips together and became pals around the school.  Always lots of fun and laughter between the two of us.

After I moved here six years ago (long after I ended the job at the university), Madi, too, kept in touch. Florida was a common love and goal that we always shared, as she is from here and her mom still lives nearby.  (She admitted to me recently that she was really jealous when she heard I was finally making the move.)

So anyway, Madi and her husband Bob are now here, his working bringing him to Miami.  We, too, are moving from a professional relationship to a personal one.

She called today.  "Glenn, Bob's got dinner meetings all week. Come and have dinner with me tomorrow!"  So we're having dinner.  And planning to attend gardening classes at Fairchild Tropical Garden together over the winter and spring months.

Another link from home. And another recurring character in my personal soap.

And of course, I decided that the two couples had to meet, so I brought them together (that's another post yet to come) and they are becoming friends as well.

It just proves that you can never write people out of your life. You never know when they will reappear.  No one has come back from the dead as of yet, and I haven't had to hire a plastic surgeon. But Bob's a doctor, so I know how to find one if necessary.

* * * * *
As I finished writing this, I went to the Guilding Light page on the CBS website. And there, proving my whole point about people coming and going, was a photo of actor Grant Aleksander, who has played "Philip" on and off for a zillion years. He's coming back to the show. Again.

And because I never turn down an opportunity for a gratuitous hunk shot, here's his picture. And trust me, he just gets better with age.

It's a small world after all.

My friend Meredith convinced me to join match.com recently.  I haven't really done much with it other than to build a profile and to scan some of the other ads once in awhile.  Mostly I log in from time to time to see if someone has emailed me.

The other day, fresh from a romantic disappointment, I logged into my account. No mail. Figures.

So I decided to run my basic search to see who might pop up.  One profile jumped out at me.  Handsome looking guy, 44, architect.  Gee, not bad.

His profile was what did it for me.  So thoughtful, beautifully written, and illustrating a man of character. As I read the description of his ideal match, I thought, "He's talking about me!"

So I sent an email, something more than the standard, "Hi, how are you."  The next morning I received a nice reply, telling me that he enjoyed reading my profile as well and that perhaps we could meet for coffee sometime soon.

And he signed his name. Not the most common of names, so it rang a bell.  Hmmm...<name>...architect...40s...let me look at those photos again. 

A few more email exchanges confirmed what I had already figured out: we're neighbors. As in, oh...maybe six houses away. 

My mind is transported to world of Disney..."it's a small world, after all...it's a small world after all..."

And for you inquiring minds, yes, we went out on a date.  Coffee turned into dinner and a wonderful three hour conversation.  And then an impromptu breakfast this morning, which he initiated and which ended up including a couple of his good friends.  And strangely enough, they seemed to have heard about me already.

A good sign?  Sing along with me:

It's a world of laughter, a world of tears
It's a world of hopes, it's a world of fear
There's so much that we share
That it's time we're aware
It's a small world after all.

I'm still mad.

I can't shake this anger I have about the passage of the hate bills in California, Florida and elsewhere.

This piece on NPR this morning got me going again. In it there are quotes from one of those right wing, whack job ministers. This time it's someone named Frederick Price Jr. of the Crenshaw Christian Center.

This hateful guy says that his church's support of Proposition 8 is "based on the book of laws...we live by. It was important to vote for Proposition 8 to preserve the sanctity of marriage."

As I mentioned in yesterday's post, this country is supposed to be founded on a separation of church and state. His "book of laws" may be his his, but it's not mine. And it's not for hundreds of thousands (if not millions) of other people. 

This crackpot has no business preaching his brand of hate. Churches (if you can call his that) are supposed to be non-profit organizations as determined by the IRS. They are exempt from paying taxes. They are not supposed to be engaged in politics.  Why doesn't the IRS go after these morons?