songbird's crazy world

Back in college I was really into comparative literature, and the brooding Russian soul.  I read Tolstoy and Pasternak and Chekhov.  Chekhov -- "Uncle Vanya", "The Seagull", "The Three Sisters", "The Cherry Orchard".   Angst-ridden, depressed, brooding characters.  Rural estates.  Slice of life dialogue. So last night Drew and I went to see a Broadway comedy, "Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike" at the Golden Theater.  The play stars David Hyde Pierce (Vanya), Sigourney Weaver (Masha) , Kristine Nielsen (Sonia) and Billy Magnussen (Spike).  The premise is that Vanya, Sonia and Masha are siblings whose parents  loved Chekhov and named their children after Chekhov characters.  Vanya and Sonia live in the Bucks County, PA house that had been their parents' home, while Masha has moved to New York and become a famous movie actress.  She returns home with her "boy toy" lover, Spike, with the intent to sell the family home.

Drew's family, not mine. Drew's 86 year old uncle lives with Drew's sister.  And that has become a real problem.  House is a mess, like an episode of hoarders, she won't call the landlord when things break down because he'll evict them.   Uncle has numerous health issues.  She doesn't take care of him, he's basically fending for himself.  Sister and uncle need each other financially, neither could pay the rent or bills without the other.Drew is fed up but reluctant to do anything because of possible repercussions, his sister not be happy (to say the least) if Drew moves his uncle out of there. Sigh.

In Greek mythology, Cassandra was given the gift of prophecy.  And was also cursed - no one would believe her. Please call me Cassandra. We live in a heavily wooded area.  Our back yard borders on an unofficial 18 acre "nature preserve", undeveloped woodlands.  When the neighborhood was developed in the 1960's, the builder took care to preserve as many trees as possible.  So when our house was built 45 years ago, there was a hickory tree in the middle of our back yard, a tree taller than the house. Two years ago I noticed that the roots of this tree were starting to rot away.  Made me very nervous.  I suggested we get someone to take a look at the tree.  No one listened to me. Last summer our landscaping service discovered that one of the small trees near the driveway was rotting out.  Landscaper had the tree removed so that it wouldn't fall onto the driveway. No one did a thing about the hickory tree. Somehow the tree survived Superstorm Sandy and all the bad

So this weekend Jen headed back to her alma mater to watch some of her friends graduate.  Becca thought about going to graduation at her school, to see what she can expect next year, but ultimately decided to sleep in instead. And Drew and I headed upstate to the graduation of a friend's daughter. Small college in the Hudson Valley, the graduation ceremony is held outdoors, on the quad, rain or shine.  And it rained.  And rained.  And rained.  Spent the whole morning huddled under an umbrella, but got drenched anyhow.  What we do for friendship.... Lunch was at The Texas Roadhouse in Kingston, NY.  We've eaten at this chain before, there's one in East Meadow, not far from where Drew lives.  It's a bit gimmicky, you can choose your own steak from the butcher counter at the front of the restaurant, the room is decorated with fake cacti, and the waitstaff will occasionally stop what they're doing to participate in a line dance.    The signs in the entryway let you

I had some time to kill today, so I downloaded the 1974 version of "The Great Gatsby".  So now I gave a real basis for comparison. Interesting how two directors had such very different visions.  The 1974 movie is a misty, sentimental romance.  It's beautiful to look at, with its Gold Coast mansions and elegant costumes.  The decadence, the conspicuous consumption, the lavishness, that seems to be missing.  The green light on the dock, so symbolic of Gatsby's longing for Daisy, is almost an afterthought.  The music . . .well, the music is contemporary to the story line, all from the 1920's, but it's all popular ballads and instrumentals with lots of weepy violins.  No jazz, not even during the wild party scenes. The disparity between "old money" and noveau riche is downplayed.  Redford's Gatsby is suave and sophisticated and confident.  You'd never suspect he was a poor boy from the midwest, the Oxford manners and mannerisms seem natural, n

What a difference a year makes.  This time last year, Jen was preparing to graduate from college, we were in the midst of making plans to celebrate the occasion when my father suddenly fell ill and wound up in the hospital.  Becca was finishing up her sophomore year and making big plans for her junior year, hoping an internship might come her way, looking for her first off campus housing. Well, the good news first. Jen has been working as a teaching assistant at a synagogue nursery school for the entire school year, as well as coaching JV cheer leading at her old high school, and in January  she started her Master's in education.  She's got a summer job lined up, at the same day camp where's she has worked almost every summer since she was 17; she'll be taking a group in the travel program.  She applied for a job as a paraprofessional in one of the elementary schools in our district; the fact that she's a district resident, an alum of the high school and has alr

As native Long Islanders, we are both keenly aware of the Long Island Gold Coast and its rich history. "The Great Gatsby", F. Scott Fitzgerald's masterpiece, is set in the Gold Coast circa 1922. Gatsby lived in the fictional "West Egg", which is modeled after Great Neck. Daisy lived in "East Egg", across the bay, i.e., Manhasset.  I loved the book. I have a vague recollection of the 1974 movie with Robert Redford and Mia Farrow, which didn't quite work for me. Drew didn't care for the book or the 1974 movie, but was willing to give the new movie a shot. Drew didn't like it, but I enjoyed it.  This version stays very close to the novel. We saw it in 3D. The 3D effect doesn't add anything to the movie. The sets and costumes capture the opulence, the decadence and materialism of the times. The director threw as much money at this movie as Jay Gatsby threw at his parties. I did not like the soundtrack. I like hip hop, but

Brunch with Jen and Drew at Ciao Baby.  Becca has finals and couldn't come home. Drew and I love Ciao Baby in Massapequa, and figured we'd try the Commack location, since it's closer to where Jen and I live.  It's got the same "rat pack" vibe, but on a much smaller scale. They had a buffet brunch for Mother's Day.  Food was excellent -- both breakfast and lunch dishes were served.  French toast was excellent, the pasta dishes were amazing. I liked the sausage and peppers.  The dessert choices were limited, the pound cake was good but the cookies were like cardboard.  Service was mediocre, I suspect it's because they usually don't do Sunday Brunch. I'd probably go back, on a day when the regular menu was served, if I happened to be in the neighborhood.  But for me, Ciao Baby means the Massapequa location.

When Dora finally got here, she was determined to be an American.   She lived in Haarlem initially.  It was the 1920's, so she bought modern clothes and cut her hair into a bob.  She and her sister Shirley signed up for classes to learn English, but Shirley would get sick on the trolley and they'd have to get off...so they dropped out of the class and essentially taught themselves to speak, read and write English.  she wanted to be a performer in what was then the thriving Yiddish theater, but her father would not allow it. So she got a factory job.  Or several, actually.  This was post-Triangle Shirtwaist fire, so conditions inside the factories of NYC were not as dire as they'd been earlier in the century, but still, it was hard work. I know that at one point she worked for Sunshine Biscuits in Long Island City. but the job she spoke about the most was in a lampshade factory. She convinced them she knew how to operate the sewing machines, when in actuality she had

So our evening began at the NYC location of Ben's Kosher Deli.  That is, after I fought my way up from Penn Station, a salmon swimming up stream against the tides of commuters headed for the station. As I've said  before (see my review of Ben's Carle Place, Long Island location) I think I am genetically programmed to love Ben's. The NYC location, on West 38tth, in the heart of the old garment district, has an "old New York" feel and a menu my grandmother would recognize.  Most Jewish delis these days use kosher meat but are not otherwise "kosher", so you can get a little sour cream with your potato latkes, and you might even see a strip of (horrors!) bacon peering out of your overstuffed sandwich. .  This place, however,  is strictly kosher, under rabbinic supervision, so there's no mixing of meat and dairy, and they don't use the fake, tofu-dairy products you might see elsewhere. As always, your meal begins with cole slaw and a bucket o

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