End of an Era

My dad died on October 15. It was a remarkable journey in some ways, but a frustrating one in many others, especially for my mother, who took care of him long after he was unable to care for himself. My brother and I have so many conflicting thoughts about this: how does one measure quality of life? What constitutes heroic measures? When is enough enough? Why does Medicare pay for hospice and not a nursing home?

However, there is nothing we can do to answer these questions right now. Time to plan a memorial service. Talked my mother out of a sappy hymn, replaced it with some old warhorses with strong chords and less sectarian lyrics. At this stage, little things mean a lot.

We're back

Domestic Tranquility is back online. So many challenging, enjoyable and stressful events of the past few months, it's hard to know where to begin. Middle age is not for sissies -- actually, when one qualifies for membership in AARP, is middle age the right term?

The short list:

Many, many trips to Boston and Worcester to visit the folks. Logan Airport is still under construction. Dad is quite demented, with a 24/7 caregiver. Mom has been soldiering on, but broke her hip a month ago and has been in and out of hospital and nursing home

Middle son graduated from the University of Minnesota with a major in History and a minor in Environmental Studies. OLGS and I are very proud of him.

Chinese exchange student Kevin graduated from St. Paul Prep and returned to Shanghai. We hope he comes back -- we haven't heard whether he will be going to St. Thomas University in St. Paul.

OLGS and I made our annual pilgrimage to Washington County, Maine. Still desolate, poor and without cell phone towers. Big secret: go to the IGA parking lot in Eastport and you might get lucky. It worked for us. We stayed in three very different places: Micmac Farm, a B & B in Machiasport that was the house built by my great, great, great grandfather in 1786 (he lived a long time and had many children); a room over a tavern in Lubec, Cohill's Inn; and a B & B in a beautiful Victorian house filled with antiques -- Kilby House in Eastport. All nice, and each one was different. We braved the new ICE passport regulations and drove into Canada to visit the summer home of FDR on Campobello. Apparently we were not the first folks to do this -- the customs officials had a pre-printed flyer for people without required identification trying to enter the US. Another big secret-- they can't keep you out.

Then to the beautiful country wedding of my nephew. Great food, amazing cakes baked by the bride, and the groom and his entourage wore kilts. There was a bagpiper. Fortunately, it wasn't too hot -- the piper was in full regalia. College friends of the groom camped out in tents by the river, a settlement quickly termed Hooverville by my sister in law. After the ceremony was over, the food eaten and the band gone, the young people hung out on the riverbank. Us oldsters didn't really want to know what was going on.

New York, New York

We've been back for a couple of weeks, but there is still a slight glow left over from our recent trip to NYC. Here's the executive summary:

Journeyed via Midwest Airlines to LGA. OLGS got us in a gypsy cab that quickly took us to our hotel in lower Manhattan, with a view of Ground Zero and the New Jersey skyline.

Then off to Avery Fisher Hall to hear the New York Philharmonic, surrounded by lots of the matinee set -- elderly ladies in fur coats, a few dragging long-suffering husbands behind them.

Stroll to Cafe Luxemburg on W. 70th Street. A nice bistro; the cool bit was that the wait staff, all uniformly young and beautiful, were getting instructions about the menu for the dinner hour. I wonder how much of that they actually remember. Then back downtown.

Saturday AM, off to the Whitney Museum to meet OLGS's cousin Blanche and her husband and son for brunch. I had the blintzes, to which husband Charles, who is 18 years my senior and a doctor, said, "You must be on Lipitor. No way you could eat that stuff without it." I mumbled something about good genes and continued stuffing my face.

Took the bus uptown to Columbia, across 110th street, to visit the statue of great Hungarian Louis Kossuth on Riverside Drive. Took pictures of OLGS standing in front Tom's Restaurant, famous among Columbia students long before it became a fixture in Seinfeld.

Then cab to the Ethel Barrymore theater to see new play by David Mamet, "Race". Theater packed, play OK but a little forced. Audience tittered at slightly funny bits to relieve tension caused by talking about uncomfortable subjects.

Then strolled around Times Square, visited a deli, primarily for a bathroom stop but also for cheesecake, then hopped a bus downtown. This is the way to see New York if you don't walk. Bus crawled down Broadway, past innumerable shops with trendy clothing, interior decorating boutiques, bookstores, etc. Who buys all this stuff?

By the time we got to Fulton, it was dark. We hopped off the bus, briefly stopped in our hotel room, and then cabbed to Chelsea to visit some friends. Nice dinner in a restaurant featuring local food. We were by far the oldest people there.

Sunday--Church at Trinity Church -- Washington slept here... Sermon had something to do with Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and how he would be appalled by life in 2010. At least that's what I think it was about. Then brunch at another bistro. When we came out, it was pouring. We cabbed up to a movie theater, the Angelika, where we saw a film about the last year of Tolstoy's life with the incomparable Helen Mirren. You could hear the subway rumbling under the theater. I liked the movie, OLGS did not.

When we came out of the theater, it had stopped raining. Off to the Strand bookstore (18 MILES OF BOOKS). I bought a paperback to read on the plane, OLGS bought hundreds of dollars worth of books on Hungarian history and Hungarian emigration to the US. "It's all deductible," says he. Back to the hotel to get our bags, and then a cab to LGA. Pouring again. OLGS talked cab talk with the driver, who seemed to be pleased to have a former NYC cabbie in his backseat. Then onto Midwest Airlines, and thence home via Milwaukee.

And if I had several million dollars, I'd move there in a heartbeat.

Here is New York

OLGS and I went to NYC to celebrate our 30th wedding anniversary -- wow! I was insufferable at work on Thursday. "Sorry -- I can't make that meeting. I'm going to New York, you know." "Sorry -- can't take you home Friday night -- I'll be in New York." I couldn't help myself.

And here we are. Still the greatest city in the world.

New Year's Wish

It is now cold in Minnesota, and the natives are walking around all puffed up -- and it's not just those down jackets. Rather, it's pride in their ability to endure. When reporters describe the panic visited upon Washington by two or three inches of snow, Minnesotans smile knowingly and suggest that if they were in charge of snow removal in our nation's capital -- and probably much else -- things would be at least different, if not better. And they may be right.

But we are too tolerant, if such as thing is possible. Terminally nice Minnesotans meet idiocy with shrugs of the shoulders or a muttered, "That's different". That may be as exercised as they get. So if someone seems like an OK guy, like Governor Pawlenty, or a great mom, like Representative Michelle Bachmann, we forgive their nutso ideas.

My wish for 2010: that Minnesotans rediscover their progressive roots and start recognizing the need to care for people they may not like, who may be unworthy and who may even cost them a little money. These are small prices to pay for rediscovering their once celebrated dedication to the common good. That's a nutso idea I can support.

Happy New Year.

Waiting

Christmas is the season of anticipation, whatever your persuasion. You could be cranky, like Garrison Keillor, railing against Unitarians and Jews as killers of Christmas, but still looking forward to singing the old carols. You could be beside yourself with anticipation, like a six year old who still clings to Santa Claus as the bringer of all good things. You could be old and disinclined to celebrate, but awaiting a visit from your son and his wonderful wife on Christmas Day. You could be a secular Jew who looks forward to the eggnog and fireplace and celebratory atmosphere. You could be a homeless person who hopes to find a good meal for a change at the Union Gospel Mission.

Or you could be me, waiting for Joe College to return safely from India so that we can all decorate the tree, fight about the distribution of the ornaments, and fulfill the old family tradition of going to the movies on Christmas day. Can't wait.

Pie pumpkin

OLGS and I share a membership in a CSA farm. We get a huge bag of veggies every week. The last couple of deliveries have included small pumpkins. Last year I used all the pumpkins for decoration, including the one labeled "pie pumpkin". This year, because Kevin, our Chinese students, said he loves pumpkin pie (and I don't think my cooking always hits the mark, although he is too polite to say so), I resolved to use the pie pumpkin.

A revelation--it's not that hard. Just cut the pumpkin up, take out the guts, and steam it for a while. Then peel off the shell. It is sweet, rich and flavorful and tastes nothing like an insipid butternut squash or something else along those lines. I can see why it's called pie pumpkin.

Never again will I use a pie pumpkin for a jack o lantern. Sometimes you just have to learn from your mistakes.

And then we can have pie for breakfast.

Fall update at domtran

So many things going on, and I save them up for publication on Domtran rather than posting them as they occur on Facebook, like many of my pals. I guess I'm old fashioned.

Anyway, here are the current matters that contribute to domestic tranquility here in the city of lakes (aka Mineapolis):

-Joe College is having a great time in India. See photo.
-Household cats hate each other. See Mitzi's Journal.
-Love being back at Findlaw. Former colleagues think I'm nuts.
-Chinese student, Kevin, scored high on his TOEFL test. Today: SATs. He wants to go to NYU. When asked why, he responded, "I can't get into Columbia." Of course, I couldn't get in now, either. Weren't the 70s wonderful?
-Ceramic tile installed in kitchen. Looks gorgeous. Now we'll have to fix everything else to match.
-The First Snow. Looks lovely. However, one has to wonder why anyone lives here.
-Gophers playing down the street. Parking now impossible on our street on game days. Much anguish and chit-chat on the neighborhood listserv. And we can hear the play-by-play even with the windows closed, so no need to shell out $100 for a ticket.

Family resemblance

OLGS's cousin Herb came to visit. Herb has the energy of a man half his age, and he's 74 next birthday. He was full of sage advice about academic careers, law school admissions and much more. He knows everyone in the academy and has great stories.

He doesn't look much like OLGS--after all, they are only second cousins. Herb is short and voluble and has a thick head of white hair. OLGS, in contrast is way over 6 feet and quiet and has almost no hair. But as they sat at the kitchen table plotting career moves, there was a fleeting moment when they looked like brothers. Funny how that works.

Back to school

It's that time again. No more vacation, no more lounging around on the patio, no more lying in bed until hunger calls. It's back to school. Even for those of us not on the academic calendar, this seems like the time for change. So I up and quit my job at Globe University and am heading back to the lawyers at Findlaw. Many reasons to do this, but the most important one: it's a better fit for me. The cynicism and manipulation of the law match my personality better than the earnestness of Globe. I feel like I've been sitting on my hands, or in this case biting my tongue, for many months. Let's see how long I last this time.

I feel incredibly fortunate that I have a choice and can afford to indulge myself. Few people in this economy get that opportunity. In other news, Joe College grad went back to teaching first grade, this time in Minneapolis, Joe College starts school in India, and Joe High School Grad starts his career as a gopher at the U of M. And OLGS begins his 27th year of teaching undergraduates. I feel like the odd person out--the only person in the family not seeking or providing mental and spiritual improvement. Oh, well. Someone around here has to work.

From "Kek Duna" to "Father of the Waters"

by OLGS, guest blogger.

DomTran and I are safely returned to Minnesota after a long day's travel. I am proud to say that I managed, in Hungarian, to convince our taxi driver that he had taken us to the wrong airport and that he had to take us to the correct one if we wished to make our flight to Amsterdam and there make connections to Minneapolis. The mystery was why the hotel staff at the very elegant "Lanchid19" hotel told the driver the wrong airport, "Ferihegy 1."

DomTran was dubious about my insistence that the driver had made a mistake, but felt a bit relieved when we left the pre-war Ferihegy 1 (pictured above) and saw the new jetport at the second one, Ferihegy 2, pictured below.




In one day, we left the "Kek Duna" (Blue Danube) for what President Lincoln called "the Father of the Waters" when referring to the Mississippi River. We are glad to be home after a memorable vacation.

Budapest sightseeing

by OLGS, guest blogger.

We are staying at the Lanchid Hotel, right next to the Chain Bridge across the Danube,and center stage for the Thursday night fireworks celebrating St. Istvan Day. The fireworks were sensational and the crowd or a million people or more on both the Buda and Pest sides of the river were appreciative.

Yesterday (Friday), Domtran and I did a tour of the city and had a leisurely dinner at a Buda sidewalk cafe. Today we plan to visit more sites, before returning to the U.S. tomorrow (Sunday the 23rd).

Bratislava...Adventures at the *Hotel Kjyiev*

by OLGS, guest blogger.




DomTran and I left Vienna Sudbahnhof on the 14:28 for Bratislava. We arrived right on time less than hour later. The trip reminded us of the commuter train from South Station Boston to Worcester, but a little shorter in distance and duration. We took a taxi to our hotel, the "Kiev," which I booked for us on the Internet. DomTran and I knew that the hotel was an old, unrefurbished 1970s communist hotel; we had also read quite a few reviews, most of which noted the shabby carpets and fixtures, but some praising the good breakfast, included with the room.


The "Kiev" is old-fashioned in giving guests a key rather than a card for locking and unlocking the door. The key (shown against the doorlock) weighs about a pound or two and it makes sense to deposit it at the front desk when out and about. Our main critique of the "Kiev" is that only one of the two ancient elevators was in service and as we stayed on a high floor (# 14), we had some lengthy waits. The view, shown at the top, is quite lovely of a European capital that relatively few Americans visit.



By the way, DomTran took care that we always knew the whereabouts of the key. Guests at the "Kiev" are warned of the many possible fines that await them for abuse of property at the hotel. A lost key costs 50 Euros. We were also careful not to vomit in the bathroom, bedroom, or indeed anywhere in the hotel because of the steep fine schedule (see below).






DomTran and I are in Budapest tonight for the Hungarian National Day celebrating St. Istvan and the establishment of the old Hungarian kingdom in the Carpathian basin. We had quite a full afternoon, but must leave now for the Danube-side fireworks. Details tomorrow.

Nein Bruno; more Jugendstihl; from True Maria to Red Vienna

by OLGS, guest blogger.

Well, we did not make it to the late show of "Bruno" the other night. But yesterday (Tuesday) morning, we did set out for the Secession building and saw the 1902 Klimt frieze honoring Beethoven's 9th Symphony. Here's how the *Guardian* arts reporter described it when it was on tour in Liverpool last year. We also liked the sculpture of Marc Antony outside the Secession building, pictured above.

In the afternoon, we explored our neighborhood around the hotel and discovered the Maria Treu church from the mid-18th century.





It rivals KarlsKirche in Baroque gold-leaf and other features. Outside the church is one of the many "plague columns" as a thanksgiving to mark the end of an epidemic, this one the deadly 1713 outbreak. DomTran seems healthy aside the plague column.






Finally, in the evening, we went off to explore one of the "Red Vienna" neighborhoods, built by the Social Democrats in the 1920s. Here is a photo of your correspondent at EngelsPlatz.







This afternoon, we leave Austria for Slovakia. Bratislava is only 35 miles away, where we will post later tonight or tomorrow.

A visit to the Leopold Museum

by OLGS, guest blogger.

It is hot in Vienna today. DomTran and I spent as much of the day as possible out of the heat in the air-conditioned galleries of the Leopold Museum, located in the Museum Quarter, near the old Hofburg Palace grounds. I mistakenly thought the museum was named for some Leopold Hapsburg king or prince or other, but instead, it is named for a Dr. Leopold, a Vienna eye-doctor who collected 20th century Austrian Art. The permanent collection is especially strong in the work of the impressionist painter Egon Schiele. His works in his early 20s, between 1910 and 1914, included a number of haunting self-portraits, including the one above. He died of the Spanish flu in 1918, just a few days after his wife (and model) died of the same epidemic. His last act as an artist was to sketch a portait of his wife as she lay dying. His last act as a human being was to ask a photographer friend to take his portrait as he expired. That's it below, the artist dead at just age 28.






A more cheery traveling exhibit is some Jugendstihl works by the artist Josef Maria Auchentaller. He was Austrian-born but moved to Munich in the 1890s to join the "Jugend" magazine group. He returned to Vienna and joined the "Secession" group and helped edit their magazine. He and his wife took up another line of work, hotel-keeping, on the Adriatic coast after 1904 and the poster shown below literally promoted his family business. He and his wife Emma were chased out of Italy after that country and Austria-Hungary went to war in 1915, but after the peace, they returned to the Italian coast and resumed their hotel business until World War II. He died in his bed, unphotographed, at age 84.




Tonight, we plan to go see "Bruno" the film, thinking we might as well see it for its Vienna scenes and listen for how the locals react. Details tomorrow.