Bird Watching — no Turkeys

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Dear friends,

It is appropriate on this day before the anniversary of the publication of Darwin’s The Origin of Species to have something to say about birds and especially finches. On November 24, 1859 this amazing work was published and now, more than 150 years later, the robust concepts described remain entirely relevant. Darwin had it SO right.

Some frosty days are here in Glen Head, trees have shed their leaves, and I have filled my bird feeders. One general feeder is hanging just outside a window in Bernice’s study where she can watch the varied throng of feeding birds from her computer desk. Because she needs to keep her legs elevated her stays at her desktop computer are limited but the feeder is also visible from her study couch. One photo shows three goldfinches in their winter attire when it is difficult to distinguish the sexes. The males have long replaced their resplendent gold plumage they wear during the spring courting season to entice and woo females who are quite content to wear the same outfit throughout the year. Darwin discoursed quite correctly on such sexual displays and their significance in the mating game. Besides the goldfinches, house finches are frequent visitors to the feeder. Finches have strong beaks and will sit on the feeder perch a lengthy time and crack open the sunflower seeds in one swift motion after another too rapid for me to perceive. House finches with the male displaying a rosy breast are not native to our shores but were brought from Europe to be caged and have owners delight in their melodic chirpings. A few years ago an eye disease decimated the house finch numbers but they seem to have recovered now.

Another photo shows an acrobatic nuthatch clinging to the bottom of the feeder as prelude to his mounting one of the perches to feed. This is a hyperactive bird, moving in swift motions, and often seen moving down a branch upside down. I am always entertained by their little dances between getting single seeds. They seem to have the idea that this show is their payment for the offerings of the feeder.

In 1953 Mindy, Bernice’s older sister, gave us a Retina IIa camera that we used to takes family pictures and multitudes of travel photos well in to eighties. This was a fine film camera that produced pictures on colored, transparent slides that we viewed with a screen and projector. In the past few years I have scanned many of these slides into my computer and Harvey now has the little camera as part of his collection of interesting curiosities. Through our VISA card we have a rewards program, which we used for air travel but that activity has been shelved for a time, so when a camera purchase was offered I got a new Nikon Coolpix camera. The camera is a marvel and I am only now learning the simplest things it can do. These pictures are my first efforts to capture movement through panes of glass.

In contrast to the finches who stand at a perch for prolonged periods and feed, there are others who must visit the feeder only momentarily. The most common of these opportunistic visitors is the black-capped chickadee that flies to and from the feeder in an undulating, dolphin-like flight and grabs a single sunflower seed. Its beak lacks the strength of the finch so it retreats to a nearby branch and holds the seed with one foot while it pecks repeatedly until it cracks the husk and can devour the inner seed. It then rushes back for the next seed. I presume there is enough energy in each seed to make this feeding procedure payoff. Another bird practicing the same routine is the Tufted Titmouse, which sports a notable head crest and appears to have large wide open eyes. Cardinals occasionally visit but their larger size and the fact that they are generally ground feeders crimps their feeding efforts. None of the birds is especially neat in its feeding habits so there are dribs of seed that are scattered on the ground beneath the feeder where yet other birds and squirrels gather to do the cleanup. Keeping squirrels from a feeder is always a challenge and this feeder has an overhead umbrella-like shield that is very effective.

Downstairs, in my study I can look out at a specialized woodpecker feeder that is mounted from one of the 4x4 posts supporting our deck. We have had this feeder; a gift from Harvey, for many years and it caters to a distinct clientele able to get at the food. The feeder has two planks of simulated wood with an outer bark that provides a familiar foothold for the woodpeckers and sandwiched between is suet laced with a variety of seeds favored by the feeders. Woodpeckers have long beaks and longer tongues and are able to delve into the opening and get the food not accessible to other feeders. Other birds and squirrels do make unsuccessful assaults attracted by the aroma of good food. The most common woodpeckers are the pictured Downey woodpeckers. The male is distinguished by the small red patch on the back of his head. I have seen a pair of Downeys on the feeder and watched the male take piece of food and offer it to the female. Even though she is also feeding, she accepts his food gift. On occasion, more than one pair attempt to feed and there is a vigorous flutter of wings until one pair establishes dominance at the feeder and the other sulks in nearby trees until the feeder is available. More rarely, there are larger woodpeckers, notably the Red Headed and the Hairy woodpeckers.

There are two pest birds I do not welcome. One is the aggressive English sparrow that usually arrives in a flock, pushes what I consider the more deserving birds from the feeder, and can rapidly empty the feeder. This sparrow is another intruder brought from England in the 19th century to satisfy Shakespeare lovers who sought to recreate his world. Another pest, are the large, black crow-like birds which, I believe, should get their meals elsewhere.

Tomorrow we are leaving for Harvey and Sandy’s for the holiday. All four sons will be there as well daughter-in-laws, granddaughters, and other family and friends..

A very happy Thanksgiving to all,

Merwin

Nothing much new

Viburnum outside my triple-paned window

Dear friends and family,

As soon as the red leaves fell, a couple of days after I loaded the picture on the blog, the hidden viburnum came into view. The Pollyanna in me says that when something lovely disappears from my life, something else takes it place. I sneer a bit about the Pollyanna attitude, but allow it a corner in my mind to counteract the self-pity I might otherwise allow myself to feel. My options get smaller; fatigue, itching, and now spleen pain are ever with me. But I force myself to look at whatever viburnum, so to speak, I can call up to replace the energy and activities no longer possible.

Today was a good example of compensation. Eli and Miriam spent a good hour with us. We have known each other for over 40 years and have much to talk about. They are in the book group that Merwin has been attending, and we share the same wedding anniversary—year and month. Our plan has always been to go out to dinner to celebrate our anniversaries—and this one is 60! I am thinking of take-out from a local restaurant. It's hard to imagine being able to spend 90 minutes sitting at a restaurant table. But take-out can be great too.

Later, our near daughter Dawn came over after her job interview at Nassau CC. We hope she gets the job! She was wearing an outfit I had given her (one of several). It was an expensive suit when I bought it about 6o years ago, and it was great to see it on her. I think I paid $18 for it with my employees' discount. I can only part with my beloved old clothes when I can give them to someone I know who will enjoy them as I did.

Laury came in the morning to work on the captions for the screen shots she had selected for our Measure for Measure edition. In a few days, our work will be sent to the publisher. At this point, with all her other responsibilities, she is doing most of the final edits as well as the photos. Wonderful Laury. What would I do without you?

In between the visits, I worked on the essay I am struggling to write. Also, I spoke to Harvey, Arthur and Dave. I told Dave I was reading an article about procrastination in The New Yorker. His immediate response was, "Did you finish it?" Once I got the joke (and it took a minute), I laughed and laughed.

Lots of love and laughs to all,
Bernice

A good day in NYC

Dear friends and family,

Today is our son Lincoln’s birthday. Hooray Lincoln! What a wonderful person you have turned out to be.

Not a surprise because even as a child, he was remarkably caring about others—and brilliant. I know it’s wrong to brag about one's children, but Lincoln has special gifts. He knows how things work and knows how to explain how they work to others. All our children have admirable skills, each one very different from the others. It's been quite a trip. We took care of our sons—and now they take care of us. I feel so lucky.

Thanks to Laury, we had a good 24 hours or so in NYC. She dropped us off at the door at #32, where I was greeted with hugs from Ricardo, a witty doorman there, and then by Terry, the helpful porter. I felt that I was coming home. Though physically I was having one of my weak days, I was mentally energized by the city and very glad to be in our pied-a-terre. The view out the window of Bryant Park with all the surrounding buildings thrills me. Merwin got take-out food from my favorite restaurant in the neighborhood, Szechuan Gourmet, and we enjoyed a quiet evening, reading and listening to music.

The next morning, our almost 5th son Rick came to have breakfast with us. I felt up to walking to the corner of 40th and 6th to Pax, a chain restaurant offering very good value. Nothing fancy at all: pick up your food at various stations and choose a plastic table. But very tasty. Rick left us early, and we continued to enjoy our quiet time. In the afternoon we walked across the street into Bryant Park and stopped off at a few of the boutiques that pop up before Christmas. Laury picked us up and brought us home. What a dear!

Home again, I returned to the essay I am struggling to write for her collection of essays. It's coming along very slowly. My thinking is OK; I know what I want to say. The problem is just getting everything in order.

Unfortunately, Merwin is not feeling particularly well. It may have been set off by the Chinese food, though he did not eat the most spicy dish, the baby eggplant in garlic sauce, which is HOT! I am so aware of how much he does for me, how little I can do for him, and how much I need him.

I heard last evening by phone from an old conference friend. It was quite a surprise. Knowing that I am writing about Measure for Measure, he wants me to read something he has written about the play, an essay that he feels has been ignored by the Shakespeare establishment. I recognize the feeling. An essay I wrote about the play years ago has as far as I know never been cited by anyone. There is an Internet program that allows you to find out who has cited your work, but I don’t mind not knowing. I get my revenge by citing my old essay myself both in the Measure for Measure edition and in my current essay, So there!

I have wanted to write about the politics of citing the work of others. My colleagues definitely prefer to cite the well-known scholars, those that are known even to civilians, even if someone obscure like me has written something worth while. The relatively open community of Shakespeareans have their prejudices. I call the community “open” because from the beginning, I was welcomed in the most heartening way.

My good friend Ken Rothwell was partly responsible for that: he got me an invitation to join a seminar at the Modern Language Association the very first year I switched from Medieval Scottish literature to Shakespeare. Earlier that year, 1976, we had started the Shakespeare on Film Newsletter, which has been absorbed into the Shakespeare Bulletin since 1992. Ken died about a week ago, having had a wonderful life as husband, father, scholar, teacher, athlete and friend.

Rambling on . . . .
Love,
Bernice

News of note

The black and white photo is of our family before Dave was born. Amy, the daughter of my dear friend Vaughan, had joined us for an outing. Merwin is holding Lincoln aloft. Arthur is in front of Lincoln. I have a hand on the shoulder of each older son, and Harvey is holding Amy's hand. Lincoln will be 50 in a few days. I recently posted a photo of the beautiful grown up Amy with her nieces: Here it is again, for your viewing pleasure.

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Dear friends and family,

We had an important visit with our local oncologist Dr. Anna Kurzyna. For once I had taken careful notes with questions I had, and she patiently listened and responded to each. She never gave any indication that she wanted to hurry. There are tests to be done, and she will be contacting Dr. Mascarenhas at Mt. Sinai to see if there is a drug trial I can get into.

Merwin had one question about me: what is the prognosis? She does not think he should worry abut anything imminent. I was out of the room, so I don't know exactly what she said to him. My main problems are the terrible itching, the fatigue, and the inability to stand in one spot (as I would like to do at the stove) or sit for long without putting my feet up. The sitting problem makes going to the theater, a movie, a restaurant well nigh impossible. The huge spleen is also an issue: it's impinging on my lungs, and I have trouble tying my shoe laces. It's the other three, though that make my life miserable.

I try to move on with my work in spite of it all. I am reading a very good book about Measure for Measure by Harriett Hawkins, an ever-cheerful scholar who could barely speak without breaking into a laugh. I very much enjoy visits from friends (Toby came yesterday), emails (thanks for yours today Jeffery, a real pick-me-up), phone calls from friends and family. Please keep them coming!

We are looking forward to NYC tomorrow. I think it will work very well. Looking forward is the way to go, right?

Love to all,
Bernice

Rushing to write

Dear friends and family,

Since my internet access is flaky, I am rushing to write before I am shot down. The photo above, part of the back yard, is one of three views I have of foliage from my recliner where I can put my feet up, a necessity to prevent pain in my legs. The other two views, at the side and front of the house, are fading now, many leaves having dropped, but all is still very lovely. I listen to classical music on channel 890, a soothing background. The itching, caused by my blood condition, is barely tolerable, but I am grateful that it subsided enough to let me sleep last night; the night before it had kept me up. Though this is torture, not akin to waterboarding perhaps but bad enough, there is a smile on my face.

Laury and I are completing work on Measure for Measure, and I am eager to return to hamletworks.org, especially since I have a date to talk about it at the New York Public Library on April 12th. I will attach the draft flyer that Jay, the man in charge of events for scholars and writers, sent me. I like the idea of looking forward in this way, projecting myself into the spring when the leaves will have returned. And I am launching myself mentally even further, to Avital's wedding in July. She and her family have been part of our lives since Harvey and Sandy moved to New Haven. And in the meantime, I am trying hard to live one day at a time, enjoying particular moments of pleasure with sons, Merwin, and friends, and with reading and writing: every day is full.

We plan to go to our city apartment this weekend, just an overnight. I don't expect to leave the apartment once I am there, but I will enjoy the view of Bryant Park and the skaters, and Rick will join us for breakfast on Sat. morning. That will be a treat.

Today, I am planning to get into my car and drive around a bit, just to acclimate myself to the feeling of being a driver again. I have not driven since July.

Fond greetings to all,
Love,
Bernice

Concert Season has Begun

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Dear friends,

Today was the first concert of the season in our chamber music series. The concerts, which we have attended for years, are held in an attractive venue called Hillwood Recital Hall on the Post University campus located only 15 minutes from our home. Our long time seats (we think they are the best in the house) are up four steps and in the first row of a section overlooking the performers in an unobstructed way. We thought, though, that these familiar seats would be a problem because if Bernice does not have her legs elevated the discomfort would prohibit staying for the concert. There is a low wall directly in front of our regular seats that would not allow this option. Luckily, I was able to switch seats and secure two where there is a wide aisle directly in front of the seats. We took Bernice’s wheelie, rode the elevator down one floor, and Bernice used the wheelie to keep her legs lifted for comforting periods during the recital. That is enough about the logistics and strategies we must now be conscious of and employ. We are already thinking of how we will manage our upcoming NY Philharmonic concert. These considerations are now part of our lives.

The concert itself was exceptional and we both enjoyed every part immensely. The program moved chronologically from Mozart, to Beethoven and concluded with Brahms’ wonderful clarinet quintet. I happen to have all these pieces on my iPod that furnishes the music for our home system, so the familiarity lent an extra pleasure. We have music on constantly at home and the pieces only occasionally receive our undivided attention but its presence provides a rich background we relish. When Bernice reaches the kitchen in the morning before I arrive her first words are often “music, music.”

Sorry, no pictures today but you can see our music program.

Our host for many years at these concerts is a talented pianist
(she performed in the Mozart piano quintet) who most often talks about the composer and the music in a short and interesting presentation in an introduction before each piece. She is very interested in music history and has visited many of the world’s music centers. She remarked on viewing some of Mozart’s original manuscripts and noting that they are amazingly pristine — no marks of revision, no cross outs, not even any stray drops of ink. Asked how it was that he composed, Mozart is reported to have answered that all the music is already in his head and his task is merely to transcribe it to paper. In contrast, Beethoven’s manuscripts bear heavy evidence of revision. Our commentator concluded that Beethoven had to work hard at creating his marvels.

We have heard the renowned Shanghai Quartet on prior occasions and they are excellent. The clarinet quintet featured the talented Igor Begelman who performed wonderfully. We saw a few friends at the concert and all were especially happy to see Bernice in the swim again.

On our way to the concert we pass our local farm and Bernice was anxious to stop and continue her adventure with cauliflower recipes. The farm will close on the day before Thanksgiving so we must take advantage of its proximity and wealth of fresh produce before then. We selected a great looking cauliflower picked today, some apples for baking, radishes, and what are probably the last of the field tomatoes. On our arrival home, Bernice, the whirlwind cook, went into action and issued command after command to me, her assistant and scullery maid. I could not report on the ingredients but there was olive oil and an assortment of spices and a 400-degree oven involved. Bernice was hungry and things moved quickly. We soon sat down and enjoyed a different version of cauliflower than we had just days ago. Don’t ask which I prefer. I like almost everything Bernice prepares and avoid being critical.

Love and healthy eating to all,

Merwin

Memories

Dear Friends and family,

Memory is such a tricky thing. Merwin and I are always marveling at each other's special gifts and deficits. He can remember the names of all his grammar school teachers and all the students in his classes, at least through grammar school and often beyond. His father died when he was 4 years old, yet he has vivid memories of this loving man teaching him the names of constellations and autos, and then bragging to his friends when he had Merwin perform for them. My memory is spotty and more so now than ever. Merwin is amazed when I can come up with the words and tunes of songs I knew 60 years ago. We were watching a movie last night, and after the lead male sang the 1st line of an old song, I immediately and effortlessly sang the second line. Yet today I can't recall which song it was. Songs from old times come to me at odd moments, and I will enjoy singing the words I can recall.

My brain surgery has not improved my memory, but since Merwin's proximate memory sometimes fails him also, I understand that we both have deficits simply because of age (I hope) plus I have lapses because of the damaged brain. I never can tell what will surface and what will remain hidden from me, maybe forever. I am told fairly frequently now, "I told you that," or "We spoke about that." This is from children, usually.

I have to accept these reminders of my lapses along with everything else, and still there is a smile on my face because I still have so much. I am still admiring the trees, changing almost every day as they unfold their autumn beauty.

Merwin went shopping today, especially for bird seed but also for some other needed items, and I went along for the ride, remaining in the car. My outdoor life has been restricted by the slightly damaged foot (from a freezer packet falling on it), but clearly it is not broken, just sore. I expect to be OK on that front by tomorrow. Then perhaps I can return to my exercise program.

Though I am restricted in where I go, I rejoice in the many voices that speak to me through email. It would be great to hear from you.

Love to you all,
Bernice