A PRETTY STRANGE (BUT TERRIFIC) VISIT

 
Dear George, 

Our son Justin came up from New Orleans for the three-day Martin Luther King Jr. weekend. His kids, Alex and Leo, now 16, were home alone, the first time they’d done that other than a one-night stay, but Justin was confident they’d do fine. On Saturday we did the thrift shops, the Clifton Cultural Arts Center (“Fiber is Art”), and the new Tony Trabert Indoor Tennis Complex at Walnut Hills High, plus lunch at Skyline Chili, and dinner at Seasons 52 (Chilean sea bass for Justin, rainbow trout for Katja, and butterfish for me). On Sunday Justin went to the gym, then had brunch with friends. He and I went to the art museum but couldn't get into the Anselm Adams exhibit in its final day. 

Monday morning Justin had coffee with his cousin Chris, and we dropped him off at the airport at noon for his return home. However, his flight to New Orleans was cancelled, and he took an Uber back to our house at 5 p.m. He called the kids. They seemed to be managing all right. 

On Tuesday Justin had made a new flight reservation, but, because of the record-breaking Southern storm, all flights to and from New Orleans were cancelled. We did more thrift shops, watched “The Edge of War” with Jeremy Irons. Alex was sick, and Justin was very worried, but they had no fever and felt better by the next day. 

On Wednesday Justin had scheduled his third flight home but it too was cancelled. He met Katja’s pain doctor, visited his cousin Chris and his family, and we watched “American Primeval” and “The Stranger”. 

On Thursday Justin finally got a nonstop flight to New Orleans on Allegiant. Of course, it too was promptly cancelled. We had lunch at Ruth's Parkside Cafe, dinner at Biaggio’s, and watched “The Conclave” on Amazon. 

On Friday, four days later than planned, Justin made a reservation with American Airlines, and, miracle of miracles, it actually took off. The kids had eaten nothing but pasta and beans all week long, so he encouraged them to go out to a restaurant for lunch. Katja and I bought some booze at the Party Source and headed home. I missed Justin, but Katja was happy that he was getting back to the children. He was a great help to us around the house, and, as always, we found it a joy to be together. Since we got to say goodbye five days in a row it was a one-of-a-kind visit. 

 Love, 

 Dave

CHRISTMAS IN MANHATTAN

 Dear George, 

In our younger married years Katja and I regularly spent the holidays with Ami and Bruce, her sister and brother-in-law, in their Upper West Side condo in New York City. Many happy memories, though it’s been a long time since we’ve done this together. This year it was time for a return trip, and we arrived for an 8-day stay on December 23rd. Here are a few of the highlights. 

AMI AND BRUCE’S. Ami and Bruce live in the penthouse of a high-rise on Riverside Drive at 94th Street in the Upper West Side. They’d redecorated since I’d been there, the walls displaying Ami’s art photo collection, new black leather sofas, a handsome rug. Their balcony overlooks the Hudson, and you can see all the way down to the financial district. Broadway is two blocks to the east with its plethora of markets, shops, elegant restaurants, and Zabars. We felt like real Upper West Siders. 

TAYLOR. During their fifty plus years of marriage Ami and Bruce have always had German Shepherds to whom they've been totally devoted. Taylor is the most sociable of their many dogs. He particularly took to Katja and liked to give her sloppy kisses on her nose. Taylor is getting older and is plagued by arthritis, but he still looks forward to his daily walks in Riverside Park. He lay down in the hallway entrance and didn't bother to move when I tried to make my way through. Clearly in charge. 

TAP AND GO. Public transportation has changed in the city. Now on buses and subways you can tap your credit card on a screen in order to enter. I must admit the technology was a bit beyond me. When I couldn’t make it work after several tries on the M5 bus, a generous woman behind me paid for me with her credit card. I was somewhat more successful in the subway, though I usually had to try 3 or 4 turnstiles before I got to “go”. I got a distinct feeling that I am older than I used to be. 

THE CRAFT FAIR.  On the day before Christmas Katja, Ami, and I went to a gigantic craft fair at Bryant Park on 42nd Street.  There were probably 200 vendors in wooden covered stalls, all featuring high-quality merchandise.  About half of New York City was also there.  Katja bought 2 attractive Tibetan shawls.  I looked but didn't buy.  When I tried to go to the park restroom there were 60 people in line.  

A JEWISH CHRISTMAS. Nearly all the city’s museums were closed for Christmas Day, but the Jewish Museum on the Upper East Side was one exception so we went there. There were multiple enjoyable art exhibits. Our favorite was a two-artist show featuring Philip Guston, a Jewish artist who addressed anti-semitism with cartoon-like paintings of the KKK, along with Trenton Doyle Hancock, an African-American artist who explored racism a generation later with cartoon drawings of the KKK. 

HIKING ON BROADWAY. Ami made a delicious Christmas dinner of pork loin, special potatoes, salad, and lemon meringue pie. After dinner I took a hike on Broadway from 94th Street to 72nd Street and back, some 50 blocks. I’d done this on most trips in the past, but I wasn’t as spry as I used to be and wound up with bothersome leg cramps. Broadway was quieter than usual, but at least a dozen eateries were open for business. Two Hasidic men asked me if I were Jewish, but I said I wasn’t. A panhandler asked for a handout, but I shook my head, then felt like Scrooge since it was Christmas night after all. A middle-aged woman on 94th Street was more demanding, saying she'd beat me up if I didn't give her money, but I just picked up my pace. 

SOLO EXCURSIONS. On our third day Katja became very sick, a condition which was later diagnosed as a combination of pneumonia and the flu. She was bedbound much of the time, and Ami encouraged me to take in the city on my own. I went to the Museum of the City of New York which had exhibits of graffiti, Shirley Chisholm, and NYC postcards (which I especially enjoyed because I own a lot of them in my own collection). The main public library at 42nd and 5th Ave. was wonderful as usual, especially with its exhibit on early 20th century Bohemian culture in Greenwich Village (William Carlos Williams, Edna St. Vincent Millay, e.e. cummings, Man Ray, Emma Goldman, John Reed, Dylan Thomas, Eugene O’Neill, Edward Hopper, and many others). It was hard to imagine all that talent concentrated in a single city neighborhood. 

BROADWAY MUSICAL. As her Christmas present, Ami bought us tickets to “Death Becomes Her” on Broadway. This was definitely a highlight of our trip. It’s so wonderful to see a Broadway musical in person. The singing was grand, and the dancing was sensational. We left light in heart. 

LOST IN MIDTOWN. Katja likes to take the bus rather than the subway to midtown and back, so we left the theater and started looking for the M5 Broadway bus. Seventh Avenue was totally crowded, shoulder to shoulder. After walking for a block or two, I turned to check with Katja who had been walking behind me, but she wasn’t there. Just hordes of people in every direction I looked. I raced back a full block but she wasn’t anywhere along the way; then I tried the opposite direction with no better result. I was just panicked, worried for Katja since I was the person who usually got us from one place to another. I tried calling on my cell phone about 20 times, but only got her voicemail. I realized that she’d turned the ringer off at the theater. It took a long time but I did finally reach Katja by phone. She was three blocks away. I hurried there and was amazed at how unflustered she was. A truly urban person. 

A FAMILY PARTY. Ami hosted a party for relatives and friends who were in the city: our son Justin and grandkids Alex and Leo; Justin’s sister-in-law Jayme and her nephew Conrad; our nephew Jacob and his daughter Delphine; and Ami’s friend Jean. We enjoyed a delicious dinner and lots of chitchat. I sort of conked out in the middle, went upstairs, and promptly fell asleep. Bruce said afterwards that we have a delightful family. Kata’s illness put a crimp on our vacation and what we were able to do, though we still had a very pleasant time being with Ami and Bruce. She saw her doctor when we came back to Cincinnati, and the doctor promptly hospitalized her for four days. A scary time. Now she’s 95% or better, and we've just been taking it easy, snowed in by a big storm. 

 Love, 

 Dave

A MODERN CHRISTMAS FABLE

Dear George, 

Mrs. Claus was worried. For weeks Santa hadn't been himself. Even though the season was here, he was staying in bed till noon each day. And when he got up, he never went to the workshop. God knows what the elves were doing. Mrs. Claus tried to ask what was wrong, but all he would do was shake his head and say there is no hope. As it turns out, Santa was convinced that the spirit of Christmas was dead. People were ruled by hate rather than love. All around the world countries were forsaking democracy and turning to fascism. Mass killings and political violence were at their peaks. America was the worst. A majority of the nation’s voters were ignorant of the issues, and elections were a farce. The country's future looked dismal. 

Mrs. Claus asked Santa what he was going to do. At first Santa wouldn't say anything. Then he finally explained that he was going to skip Christmas. “Skip Christmas”, Mrs. Claus said in horror. “Why you can’t do that. Christmas is your whole life.” “The people have decided,” Santa said dejectedly. “Christmas no longer has a place in their world.” Soon Christmas Eve did arrive, and, instead of hooking up his reindeer to their sleigh, Santa drank a large Scotch and went to bed. His wife wrung her hands and cried. But Santa had made his decision. 

Christmas morning arrived, and children around the world leapt out of bed and rushed down to the family Christmas tree. Imagine their surprise. The stockings on the fireplace were empty. The cookies and milk they’d left for Santa and his reindeer were untouched. And not a single gift was under the tree. Such weeping and wailing. And when the parents came down they were equally puzzled. What had happened to Santa? It didn’t take long for the word to get around. Santa hadn't come to anybody’s house. Something terrible had happened. 

Rumors abounded, Some thought that Santa’s sleigh had collided with a meteor. Others thought that pirates had captured him and made him walk the plank. A few thought that a multi-billionaire had bought up all of Santa’s presents and kept them for himself. However, in Punxsutawney Pennsylvania little children Betsy and Billy Baumgarten had their own idea. From watching TV news and listening to their parents’ conversations, they determined that Santa was so sad about the state of the world that he couldn't bring himself to deliver gifts this year. Betsy and Billy put their theory on Tik Tok, and their message went viral. Thousands of hits, then hundreds of thousands and millions and billions. All around the globe children realized that Betsy and Billy were correct, and they tried to figure out how they could bring back the spirit of Christmas for Santa. The children left their houses. They shoveled their elderly neighbors’ sidewalks, helped blind people across the street, brought groceries to needy families. The older children wrote letters to political leaders and recruited their parents to their cause. 

Santa watched all these developments with amazement. "Good for the children,” he said, "I should never have doubted them.” Though the world remained deeply troubled, the childrens’ efforts made Santa optimistic for the future. He began planning for the best Christmas ever in the coming year. 

 Love, 

 Dave

GIVING THANKS

 

Dear George, 

At first I was going to be clever and perverse, writing about all the things I’m not thankful about. However, aside from the national political scene, I couldn’t think of any examples. So, instead, here are some of my more traditional thanks. 

THANKS to my doctors, past and present, to whom I give credit for my still being around at this unholy age. 

THANKS to Katja who made the best turkey dinner ever today and is responsible for at least 90% of the things that have been good for the last 65 years. 

THANKS to our sweet NOLA family who give us a home away from home and let us know that we are loved and cared for. 

THANKS to our Seattle relatives, Greg and Jennifer, who have kept our family homestead in Birch Creek thriving, fulfilling my parents’ dreams. 

THANKS for the new hearing aids I got this week that improve my hearing from near zero to near 100%. Whew! 

THANKS to my poetry writing class and my writers’ group for camaraderie and keeping my wits challenged. 

THANKS to Iko, our miniature schnauzer, who, whether he knows it or not, turns out to be my best buddy for daily outdoor treks. 

THANKS to my FaceTime friends and all our other relatives and friends who keep us connected despite the many miles. 

Love, 

Dave

A SCARY HALLOWEEN STORY

Dear George, 

I tried to write a Halloween story for my writers group last month, but I got bogged down.  I haven't written any fiction for a long time, and I'd forgotten how challenging it can be.  But I've finally come up with a draft.  I hope it doesn't scare you too much.

Love,

Dave

THE LAST HALLOWEEN 

Ninth-graders Johnny Dark and his pals Molly and Tommy were heading home from their Halloween Eve party, joking around, laughing, nibbling on treats from one another’s bags. Long-time best friends, the three of them had been doing Halloween together since first grade. This year Johnny was dressed as a Samurai warrior; Tommy, a desktop computer; Molly, a bumblebee. Being clad in costumes made them even more playful and kooky than usual. 

Thick clouds covered up the moon, the street was deserted, and they could hear the sound of a dog howling in the distance. Near the middle of the block they came upon an alleyway that they’d never noticed before. “Let’s take this,” Johnny said, “it should go straight to our street.” Molly and Tommy nodded their assent, and the three entered the alley. Unseen by the trio, a tall iron gate silently slid into place behind them, closing off any possible exit. 

The alley, lined with stone walls and topped by a shingled roof, was lighted by torches every 10 or 15 yards. The floor was wet, even slimy, and soon they found themselves pushing through cobwebs that hung from the ceiling. A large rodent scurried in front of them, then disappeared in a crack in the wall. “Let’s go back,” Tommy said nervously, but Johnny pointed to a light in the distance and said they’d soon be at the alley’s end. 

The light grew in intensity as they grew nearer, and soon it was accompanied by the sounds of rhythmic music. The alley did come to an end, but, rather than exiting onto a street, it led the three youngsters into a cavernous room. A large fire was blazing in the middle, and around it were dancing a circle of adults. The women were dressed in identical black witch costumes; the men, red demons. As the young people grew nearer and could make out faces, they suddenly realized that the dancers were teachers from their school. Mrs. Graham, Mr. Ahrndt, Harry Belangi, the principal Mr. Jacobsen, and many more. 

When the dancers noticed their young students, they clapped their hands and beckoned to their students to join them. Johnny’s favorite teacher, Miss Jozwiacki, took him by the hand, drawing him into the circle. The music increased in speed, and Johnny did a dance step he’d learned in gym class. Back and forth, left and right, over and over again. It was more fun to be dancing with his teachers than he would have imagined. 

But after a few minutes the music began to get more strident, and the teachers started chanting, “Wahoom…wahoom…wahoom.” Johnny hoped Molly and Tommy were having a good time and looked around to find them, but they seem to have disappeared. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a wooden platform in the center of the flames. To his horror, Molly and Tommy were on it, chained to upright stakes. Though their mouths were covered by gags, Johnny could hear their muffled screams. 

In a panic, Johnny turned to Miss Jozwiacki. But Miss Jozwiacki had been transformed — gnarled hands, a hunched back, her skin ashen gray, her face, neck, and arms gouged by deep wrinkles. Johnny gasped and backed away, but he was immediately surrounded by a group of threatening dancers. Principal Jacobsen grabbed Johnny by his shoulder. “Come with me, son. This is the best Halloween you’ll ever have.” Miss Jozwiacki added, “Because it’s the last Halloween you’ll ever have.” The last words that Johnny Dark ever heard.

TEN THOUGHTS I HAD THIS WEEK

 Dear George, 

By and large, the American public is ill-informed and ignorant, hostile and destructive. 

The illustrious voters of the state of Ohio ousted one of the most competent members of the U.S. Senate, elected three extremist pro-life justices to the state Supreme Court, and decisively rejected an issue designed to end gerrymandering in Ohio. 

Neo-Nazis are euphoric. 

The current president and white women voters own some of the blame for this disaster. 

We did survive the first term of the new president (though he appears more unhinged and anti-democratic than the last time around). 

Given advanced age and four long years, the vice-president may take over, an equally (and maybe even more) undesirable prospect. 

The U.S. Supreme Court is going to be a backwards force in the nation for decades.  

It’s possible that the new administration will be so catastrophic that it will mean the end of MAGA Republicanism. 

Katja wants to move to New Zealand though that is far away. 

This could be the last president of our lifetimes, a disgusting way to wind things up. 

Love, 

Dave

A SWIFTIE EXTRAVAGANZA

 

Dear George, 

I am hopelessly out of touch with contemporary pop music. In its place I spend most of my time these days listening to 1920’s big band music, featuring vocals by Ruth Etting, Annette Hanshaw, Marion Harris, and others. I think this is because this was the music my parents grew up with and I must have been exposed while in my mother’s womb. I do know who Taylor Swift is, of course. Every time I go to the drugstore her image is featured on the covers of most of the weekly entertainment magazines. 

Given that the current news is dominated by toxic political events, I decided to look into one of the more joyous recent happenings, i.e., Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour in New Orleans. She performed in three shows at the New Orleans Superdome on Friday October 25th, Saturday the 26th, and Sunday the 27th. The concerts were a complete success, each of them selling out to approximately 65,000 fans. Based on data from Ticketmaster, about 4.4% of people who tried to buy tickets actually got them. For each show Swift performed the same set of 45 songs in 10 distinct acts in three hours and 20 minutes. The concert features numbers from all of the musical eras in Swift’s 18-year career, from her early country roots to her pop and alternative rock phases. Official ticket prices ranged from $49 to several thousand dollars. Given extremely high demand, presale tickets were sold out within minutes of going on sale, and then they were only available by resale, prices sometimes reaching well over $5000. For the final Sunday show even the worst seats in the house cost over a thousand dollars. The Eras Tour in New Orleans had over $200 million in ticket sales, and it’s believed that Taylor Swift earned about $13.6 million dollars for each of the three shows. Thanks in part to the Eras Tour, Swift is the richest female musician in the world with an estimated fortune of $1.6 billion. 

The city went all out to embrace Taylor Swift and her tour. More than 160,000 people traveled to New Orleans for the three concerts. According to the U.S. Travel Association, the typical fan spent about $1,300 on food, lodging, merchandise, and other expenses, bringing in more than $500 million to the city. New Orleans put on a three-day “Embrace the Culture”concert at Duncan Plaza where fans were dropped off for the shows. Because fans trade Swiftie friendship bracelets with her name on them, a giant 140-foot friendship bracelet was hung from the Superdome. New Orleans police officers were also seen trading friendship bracelets with fans, and even the penguins at the Audubon Aquarium wore Swiftie-style friendship bracelets. Businesses decorated their stores, nearly every bar in the French Quarter had music tied in with the concerts, and the airport provided a karaoke stage for fans. The District Donut shop added nine new donuts, all named after Taylor Swift songs. Concert-themed alcoholic drinks at bars in the Quarter included the Taylorita and the Holy Ground hurricane. Antoine’s Restaurant wrote “Eras Tour 2024” on its signature dessert, baked Alaska. Tour fans and local residents were unanimous in describing Bourbon Street as the cleanest and safest it’s every been. Prior to the tour the governor of Louisiana ordered multiple state agencies to relocate homeless people who lived near areas that concertgoers might frequent “to ensure that New Orleans puts its best foot forward…” (though a federal judge later put a stop to the sweeps). 

Most area hotels sold out during the tour, often charging $800 or $900 a night. A Swift fan from suburban Metairie booked 191 rooms at the Holiday Inn for $500 apiece. Her intent was not to make a profit but to insure that Swift fans could meet and connect, and she re-sold all the rooms that she booked at the same price she had paid for them. The Eras Tour, unfortunately, was a hotbed for ticket fraud, scammers selling invalid counterfeit tickets or arranging to transfer tickets but never delivering. Journalists reported numerous instances of mothers and daughters weeping at the box office because their tickets proved to be fake. 

During “Karma”, her final song on the Tour, Taylor sang a line for her boyfriend, former UC Bearcat and N.F.L. Kansas City Chiefs tight end, Travis Kelce: “Karma is the guy on the Chiefs coming straight home to me.” The fans erupted in cheers. At the end of the show she gave her mom two long hugs and said, “I have been so moved and so blown away by the way that this city has embraced us and welcomed us. So can we all just please say a big, ‘Thank you, New Orleans!’” 

Love, 

Dave

A ROLLER COASTER TRIP

Dear George, 

Earlier this year our daughter-in-law Kiersta died unexpectedly and tragically in New Orleans. She was 55. Our son Justin, Kiersta’s sister Jayme, and several close friends planned a memorial service in New Orleans to honor Kiersta’s life on October 12th. In fact, this was a multi-day event. It started with a family brunch at Justin’s house on Friday morning. On Friday evening there was a welcoming party for 180 out-of-town guests at a Magazine Street venue, including an open bar and a buffet supper of cajun food. Funereal black was discouraged; Mardi Gras costumes with sequins were encouraged. The memorial service itself, attended by 280 guests, was held on Saturday afternoon at a Methodist church on Canal Street. The two-hour service was followed by a one-hour parade through Kiersta and Justin’s long-time neighborhood, led by a troupe of woman dancers in Mardi Gras costumes, a brass jazz band, and a “second line” of attendees from the memorial service, waving white handkerchiefs. That evening guests were invited to a jazz celebration at a neighborhood nightclub. Seventy-five family and friends were also invited to a Sunday morning breakfast at a popular Bywater restaurant. Justin then had an all-day open house for family members and friends at his home. A whirlwind of a time. 

We flew down to New Orleans on Thursday afternoon. The trip started inauspiciously. We left in what seemed like plenty of time, but the rush hour traffic had started, and we barely moved on Martin Luther King Jr. Drive. I-71 was no better — lengthy periods of standing still, then proceeding at 5 or 10 miles an hour. I’d say we didn’t move at a decent pace until we reached Fort Thomas, Kentucky. The upshot was that we boarded the plane just two or three minutes before they closed the door for departure, fortunate that we made the flight at all. We stayed at New Orleans’ newest hotel, the Residence Inn by Marriott. It was in the Central Business District, close to the French Quarter. We had a big suite with a fully stocked kitchen. The location seemed ideal to me since it was right near the junction of the St. Charles Avenue trolley and the Canal Street trolley. I love taking the trolleys in New Orleans since they eke of nostalgia and run along these grand avenues with historical mansions and live oaks. Plus they charge seniors forty cents a ride. 

I am usually intimidated by big crowds of strangers, but we had a great family turnout with relatives coming from Seattle, Brooklyn, California, Arkansas, and Cincinnati. I spent the most time hanging out with my sister Vicki who lives in Santa Cruz. We are very close though we haven’t seen each other in person for a long time. Among other similarities, we both struggle with hearing problems so there was lots of joking and talk about that. Vicki and I promised to get together again in the coming year. 

I’d like to say more about the memorial service itself, but, despite sitting in the front row, my faulty hearing kept me from hearing a lot of the content. I did pick up the love and respect for Kiersta that all of the speakers felt. Lots of fun stories and laughter as well as more serious comments. Five long-time friends gave speeches, as did Justin himself and our teenage grandkids, an emotional effort by all. Three different musical groups of family friends performed. All in all, it was a moving tribute. 

I’m very proud of Justin for organizing this multi-day event and carrying it out. He and Kiersta have a very wide friendship network, and he seemed able to connect with everybody, an overwhelming task. This was truly a celebration of Kiersta’s life, though it was accompanied by an underlying feeling of grief and mourning as well. The gathering and the service provided at least a partial sense of closure and healing. However, our painful loss stays with us. 

Love, 

Dave