At The Reception

My friend Helen is exhibiting her artwork in Cold Spring Harbor. Tonight we attended an Artist Reception for the show.

The work (watercolors) is beautiful. Helen is patently talented and the subjects of her paintings are joyous. While at the reception we had several nice chats with Helen.

A bonus of the event was running into someone I knew 60 years ago and haven't seen since (Tom). Tom's father Tony worked with my father when they were both police officers in Lloyd Harbor. Our families socialized together at annual Police Department events, like summer beach parties and Christmas parties. I remember Tom and his brothers but haven't seen him in over a half-century. Catching up was fun. I learned he, too, used to ride motorcycles.

Here's a picture from one of those 1960s Christmas parties. Can you find me in it?

Making Sports Interesting

I don't expect you to be interested in hockey but good writing entertains us no matter what its subject. For example, I'm reading a book about Babe Ruth I doubted would appeal but find it fascinating ("The Big Fella"). Written by brilliant female sports-writer Jane Leavy, the Babe book ensorcells me with detailed description of how celebrity emerged in this country a century ago. Babe was more than a baseball hero; he was America's first celebrity. He become as famous for his off-field persona as on-field play. This happened because of the emergence of mass communication in the 1920s. That is the real story in the book.

Back to hockey. After a promising start this season, my favorite team (NJ Devils) fell apart. Terrible mismanagement by GM Tom Fitzgerald has many fans demanding he be fired. Team owners are resisting that pressure, however, so we fans have a solution -- tell the White House there's oil under the Prudential Center (where the Devils play) and ask for regime change. 🙂

A second problem with the team is that a star-player, foolishly given a lavish contract, is under-performing. The team will lose lots of money when it trades the player for a used Zamboni and a box of Skittles. (Zambonis are machines that clean arena ice.)

Finally, some good news: the Devils' hated rivals, the NY Rangers, are also collapsing. Germans have a word for this -- Schadenfreude. (Taking pleasure from someone else's misfortune.) Last night the Rangers gave up ten goals to Boston. It was like watching your mother-in-law drop the tasteless casserole she brought for dinner.

La Belle Époque

For decades television was criticized as "an intellectual wasteland;" a medium devoid of knowledge and sophistication. But that was back when broadcast TV needed to appeal to a wide audience for economic viability. The whole venture was based on untargeted advertising.

Today, streaming on TV doesn't face that pressure. As a result, some shows are enlightening. Let's, for example, consider Season Five of "Emily In Paris," released this month on Netflix. Many male critics attack the show as vapid but their perspective is tinged -- no, fatally corrupted -- by sexism. "Emily..." is conspicuously aimed at a female audience with its focus on romance, fashion and exotic locales, but it is more than that. Here are two instances of its higher aspirations.

Over a dozen times this season the show references a remarkable period in European history called La Belle Époque. (That's French for "The Beautiful Era.") In case viewers are unaware of that period, it is explicitly explained as a time of peace, prosperity, scientific advancement and cultural innovation. Art Nouveau, a popular art movement you've undoubtedly heard of, emerged during this time. La Belle Époque spans 1871 to 1914 (the outbreak of World War I).

A second instance of valuable knowledge in Season Five is "the Green Fairy" (slang for absinthe). Absinthe is anise-flavored liquor with a notorious reputation. Legend says the Green Fairy is hallucinogenic and will drive you crazy. Research later proved, however, that the rumor was an exaggeration spread to both promote and discourage consumption. The drink, embraced by bohemians, is socially associated with hipness and social transgression -- making it a perfect symbol for a show like "Emily...".

Watching TV is no longer a shameful activity. You can even consider it "educational". :)

Happy New Year!

I hope you enjoyed the holidays. It's time for New Year's resolutions. What are yours?

Mine are simple: Don't die and stay out of the hospital. These may sound unambitious but you haven't had the year I did. Besides, "join a gym" is already crossed off my list. :)

Happy New Year!

Holiday Mug Shot

"Harold and Maude" (1971)

On this day (Dec. 20th), over a half century ago (1971), one of my all-time favorite movies was released: "Harold and Maude." The movie quickly became a cult classic and is on the Top Five list of many film-lovers.

Buoyed by boisterous music from Cat Stevens (Yusuf Islam), the movie is comedic and philosophical. It touched the Zeitgeist of the Seventies exactly as "The Graduate" had the Sixties. The film tells the story of Harold, a young man confused by life who attends strangers' funerals for diversion. At one, he encounters a wild free spirit who expands Harold's perspective. Maude, a 79-year old Holocaust survivor, teaches Harold to loosen up and savor experiences. A key moment is when Harold spots a concentration camp tattoo on Maude's arm.

The humor and insights of "Harold and Maude" hold up. Re-watching the movie now continues to entertain us. If you've never seen it and want to laugh, hie thee to a screen!

Pumping Iron

Life can be humbling.

So I'm at the gym yesterday, feeling very good about myself. In addition to working out regularly I'm getting stronger. My personal trainer smartly selects effective exercises and keeps increasing the weights on them. I can feel my muscles growing bigger.

Then, I look across the gym and see a guy doing a dozen chin-ups WITH A 100-lb. DISC strapped to and hanging off his body. Geez! How is that possible? Most of us can barely manage one chin-up with no albatross and this dude has the weight of a foxy girlfriend hanging onto him while casually pumping out a dozen of these torturous moves.

And don't get me started on the female trainers... they have arms bigger than mine and swagger the envy of teenage boys.