A most eventful day

Dear family and friends,

On Tuesday, on the way home from Mt. Sinai, as I may have written, I stopped at the library to see the show that my dear fiend Vaughan had recommended of photographs by three women who had died in 2009. While I was there, I happened upon an announcement of a lecture for the next day on Jane Austen by Robert Armitage, and Merwin and I, who love Jane Austen's novels, took advantage of another feature of NYPL life: free lectures. There are also gallery shows, classes of all sorts, and much more. The lecture had been scheduled originally for the previous week, but the library had been closed because of snow and the lecture deferred. Lucky us. Now we are all the more eager to see the Jane Austen show at the Morgan Library.

Merwin and I arrived early, snagged our seats in the front row, and then took in a delightful show on Voltaire in the small gallery on the first floor to the south of the classroom section (which is in a beautiful new mostly glass structure somehow situated within the library and not visible from the outside: I am not sure how they did that structure). The Voltaire show was gorgeously mounted, with many ways to absorb both information and delight, visual and aural. I find that with my emphasis on Allen Room work, I don't take enough advantage of these beautiful shows. As I take more time to engage with it, I find myself appreciating my library more and more.

Mr. Armitage had collected wonderful records for us to look at, a whole booklet of letters, photos of authentic and inauthentic likenesses of Jane, excerpts from unfinished novels, and more, plus a pile of Austen editions. Though the sketch by Cassandra, Jane's beloved sister, is said to be quite accurate, I wondered about that: I have been able to capture a likeness of people I sketch, and anyone looking at my sketches can see who it is, when I have been successful, without difficulty. But my sketch is still far, far from what a real artist could capture: mine lack something vital, and I think perhaps Cassandra's did too. Mr. A's thesis was that Jane was not as goody goody as her relatives tried to paint her after her death. He gives her a lot more vinegar than they allow, especially the ones who didn't really know her as a confidante but only as an elderly aunt.

We are locking forward to the return of our friends Michèle and Raymond from their vacation in Morocco and intend to send them some of the NYPL materials we have collected.

Though I admired Mr. A's lecture, I must say it made me think about my paper, which I will give next week. It will not be finished! I have more to do, but I also have to cut for a talk. I cannot expect people to listen to me for more than 45 minutes. Mr. A's presentation was dramatic and engaging but too long. We rushed off afterward to take our afternoon naps to get ready for the theater that night.

Dr. Mascarenhas phoned in the afternoon to tell me that the prednisone was not destroying my hip. This is good news indeed because though I have to be off of it in any case, I don't have to worry about my hip during the slow tapering. I do have to worry about what's happening to my hip, though, and since Merwin needed an appointment with an orthopedist because of a very sore tendon, I made one for Thurs. afternoon, which would mean cutting our NYC day short.

In the hall at #32 we ran into our neighbors in the apartment next door: they are in the process of trying to sell their apartment: we didn't know that. I wish they had told us: maybe someone we know would have interested in it. Their apartment is for them, as ours is for us, a pied à terre. We cannot say enough good things about our neighborhood. Every time we are there, we find new things to be pleased about. Any bites?

We ate all our meals in the apartment on Wed. I like the challenge of putting something together with very few tools and ingredients. At 7 p.m. we left for the Acorn Theater and the production of A Lie of the Mind, a play Ben Brantley praised so highly that we thought we would spring for the rather big bucks to see it. We were not disappointed: it is a beautifully acted, weird story of two intertwined families, with many surprising twists. The stage at the Acorn is very wide and not very deep. The main stage dressing was a three-wall set of odds and ends of all sorts, some lit from within, some not, of chairs, tables, chests, platforms, etc., all stacked up from floor to ceiling in some parts, with openings for doors and windows. At a little space at stage left two men made music and sounds. There was no curtain. Instead, light focused attention on one part of the stage or another, one family or another, and their interactions. The first act was absolutely brilliant, the second only a little less so. We left drained.

We had taken the M42 bus across town and though we missed one as we were on our way out of the theater close to 11 p.m., it was not long before before another came, and we were at Bryant Park quickly. Unfortunately, at that point, we made a mistake. Thinking our path behind the library would be accessible we walked from the bus stop east of 6th Avenue to the rear of the library. There we found the path chained. I scooped up the chain, dipped under and got into the park. I heard a crash behind me. Merwin had slipped and fallen onto a concrete step, hurting his rib, just about the same way I hurt mine weeks ago, a flying leap of a fall, then creash.

Luckily, he had gotten a heating pad at Duane Reade's for his tendinitis, and it came in handy for the rib as well. Our appointments for Thurs. with the orthopedist would serve a double purpose for Merwin! The upshot of the appointments for the two of us is that my hip is painful because of a problem with my back, not the hip itself, and the cure is to get physical therapy to strengthen my belly. What has happened is that since the spleen has become so enlarged, I have not been able to do all the abdominal exercises I used to do. My PT Vicky will figure out for me how to work the abdomen in spite of the spleen. Merwin is to see if the tendon gets betters; if not he may need a MRI: something may be going on there that should be watched. I won't say a word about how he happened to injure his tendon. As for the rib, Dr. S. prescribed a pain med that he can take (he can't take aspirin or its clones). The xray might indicate a slight crack. Merwin will know in a few weeks: if the pain goes away in 3-5 weeks, it was a bruise and not a break; if more, then it's likely a slight crack, as the doctor said. Nothing to be done about it in either case.

Dave came over and strung up white angel lights on two walls of the bedroom. They look very pretty indeed. I am very pleased. He also brought a kneedless/needless bread (in both senses), and we ate the whole thing. Even Merwin, not a big eater at any time, thought it was about the best bread we have had in a while—and we are used to very good bread. This was toasted to a turn, crisp on the outside, firm yet yielding inside, and dipped into Dave's great olive oil with herbs. Yum. That and soup and salad was our supper tonight.

Now back to my paper!

A sweet goodnight to all,
Love,
Bernice