Lazy Sunday

Brian Philip 3+ weeks old a few days ago

Toby and Elliott's first grandchild

Dear family and friends,

I think I may change my mind about Mother’s Day because it was so much fun hearing from people who wished me a happy day and to whom I could wish the same.

It's a bright day today; the viburnum is bowing and waving outside my window, but very cold! What weather we are having! Signs of climate change.

And the news goes on, but I am not going to register my thoughts and feelings about what's going on in the world. That would get us into a mare's nest. I do want to mention Elena Kagan, who is, evidently, Obama's pick for the open slot on the Supreme Court. The suspicious thing about her is that she is largely unknown: she seems to have a quality Obama likes and fosters in himself. She is a bringer-together, who can get opposites to work together on mutual goals. Good luck with such as Scalia, Roberts and Alito! The first two of these are powerful arguers for their position and have pulled the middleman to their side very often. Would she be another voice for consensus?

I paid the penalty yesterday for my day out on Sat. Too bad, but a big outing like that wipes me out for the next day too. Laury came over and we managed a couple of hours of work on our Measure for Measure edition. We crafted several questions for the students to try and answer. Tricky business, questions, because it is all too easy to subtly introduce one's own ideas: "Count the ways that the Duke is a despicable character." Hah! I am so opposed to such questions. Laury and I are both performance-oriented in our thinking. "How could you play the Duke's role so as to make him a sympathetic character?" The negative opinion the questioner has is still in there, but a little more hidden. By the way, the recent TFANA production did solve the problem, as did the Globe version a couple of years before.

Merwin and I went to a Hillwood concert yesterday on the C. W. Post campus. We have missed most of these concerts for one reason or another, but we can substitute a Tilles event for any we miss (also on the Post campus, for a small fee), so we have not been bereft of local concerts altogether. It was a wonderful program, but I am afraid I dosed off during much of it. The last item was very special: Piano Quintet in E-flat Major by Schumann. The Director, Host and frequent pianist for Hillwood concerts, Caroline Stoessinger, surprised us. She was listed as the pianist for this last piece but instead introduced a different pianist whose name I didn't catch,, and who did not appear on the program. It seems it must have been a last-minute change; otherwise Post would have provided an insert in the program. The slim young woman in a form-fitting outfit and with sparkly high heels that pumped up a storm earned the huzzahs of the crowd. Merwin and I listened to our version when we got home and found it to be much tamer. What's right? Who knows? Not so unlike the Duke, I guess.

Dave took over the controls of my computer through iChat to try and teach me how to use a program to take screen shots. I am hopeless. He will have to talk me through this again and write the instructions for me. At least I can now post the photos that are in my collection and those my faithful readers send me. Please keep them coming.

Our dear Rick stopped off to wish us a Happy Mother's Day and to bring a special candy/dessert that a person he knows makes. Delicious! Not too sweet. He is looking for a small apartment in Chelsea to rent. He is going to stay in NYC this summer, which will be delightful for us.

I am reading John Mosedale's novel, The Church of Shakespeare, published by LuLu for speed so John could hold it before he left us. It displays his deep love for and knowledge of Shakespeare at every turn. I wish I could chat with him about his characters and ideas, but I feel I am with him in some small way when I am reading his book.

Love to all,
Bernice

A good day

Dear Family and friends,

Happy Mother's Day to all who enjoy celebrating this occasion. Harvey informs me firmly that when he calls today it will not be to wish me a happy Mother's Day—which he considers a Hallmark Holiday, but simply to wish me a good day, as he does every day. OK. I go for that. Except that Hallmark has given me so much in terms of the first full-length Shakespeare play on TV (and thus grist for my writing mill, even as recently as this spring) that I don't mind celebrating a Hallmark Day. Anyway, Happy Mother's Day to all who are mothers, who have mothers, who had mothers, and who know any mothers.

The concert in NYC we were looking forward to with so much anticipation and perhaps trepidation went very well altogether. It was all Stravinsky, starting with the massive Symphony in Three Movements, continuing the unfamiliar and rather weird Concerto for Piano and Wind Instruments, and ending with Rite of Spring, which is familiar and eye-and ear-popping. We managed the logistics with no trouble, and, to make things easier for me, had a lovely lunch right there in Avery Fisher Hall, at a window table we reserved. No crowds to deal with across the street at the places we sometimes go. I was exhausted after our walk to the car and slept on the way home, then went immediately to bed for a long nap! I rarely sleep during the day, but the combination of the long car ride, lots of tension with the cane (will someone knock me over?), and the too-large meal afterward did me in.

My evening activity was answering email and reading John Mosedale's novel,, no work for me. Merwin's was trying to master an amazing instrument that converts 33 rpm records to CD. Wow, it was wonderful to hear these old friends, and many more are in the offing. The instrument is for sale at Bed, Bath and Beyond, but Miriam kindly lent him hers. He has converted only two records so far because it all has to be done in real time. We heard Geula Gill, and her wonderful Sephardic Songs, and The Judds, mother and daughter, and their country Western beat, which made me want to dance. Shoulders only this time.

I have to thank Barbara for her inspiration in many areas, but specifically what I call the angel lights or fairy lights that Dave has strung up for me in the bedroom. Have I mentioned that Merwin set up a remote control so that I can turn them on and off without getting out of bed? Yay, Merwin! I smile every time they go on. Except in the middle of the night when they went on spontaneously. I didn't wake up when the moment occurred, but woke up to find them lit. This happened twice. Merwin says it happened because of the high winds during the night. They continue this morning as well; the trees outside my windows are bending and bowing.

Hooray for Rick who was elected to the P&B (personnel and budget committee, the departmental governing committee). Barbara told me he was one of those who had won the election. He'll do a great job, I know. I am so proud of him, my special friend, foster son, colleague. Barbara and I were reminiscing about the great things that happened during our tenure on the P&B, the wonderful people we hired, and the fun we had deciding great issues! That's what started me off on the active learning project: as a member of the P&B, I took on the job of leading a college-wide issue-based program on literacy across the curriculum—and it went on from there to a program for active, student-based learning, a FIPSE grant, seminars at the college, and treasured friendships with many people I would not otherwise have known so well.

Work day today! Starting with the stationary bicycle.

So again, Happy Mother's Day to all who ever had a mother,
Love,
Bernice

A walk in the garden

Dear family and friends,

I had my first walk in the garden yesterday, carefully negotiating the terrain with my sturdy cane. Merwin had gotten a new Clematis plant to replace the one the garden man had killed by over-cultivating and destroying the delicate roots. Now Merwin has two again, framing his study's windows, looking out on the back garden. He is there now, planting the last of two tomato plants. It was a great pleasure to walk among the trees and shrubs that our son Dave had planted for us. He designed the garden for beauty, longevity and attractiveness to birds and butterflies. It's magical.

I visited the tiny pond but now the lily pads and other water plants give the 6 fish many places to hide and I saw none. Perhaps if I sat on the bench for a while, they would show themselves. Merwin doesn't feed them or do anything but add water when it evaporates. Dave built it to be self-sustaining. The fish are very good at handling the mosquitoes that appear later in the summer.

I noticed that the asparagus plant next to the pond had shot up to about 5 ft. and clipped off the top, which had one regular-sized closed bud and an array of tiny little buds all around it. This was my first course for supper: sauteed in sweet oil (as my mother called oil with little taste, like canola). Delicious. It would be fun to grow lots of asparagus, but one has to be watchful because it grows a foot or more in a day and then goes to seed. Merwin went to his book group and had had his main meal mid-day, as he prefers, and he enjoyed having the turkey balls again, a rarity for him: he usually doesn't like eating the same meal twice in a row. So I count that a success.

The deck in front of me, beyond my computer, is framed by huge flowering bushes, white viburnum. Throughout the garden as one group of flowers fades, another takes its place, preventing me from repining too much at losses.

Merwin has done his best to make this coming day a good one for us both. He tried to reserve a parking spot for our car at Lincoln Center, but all the reserved spots were already taken. He has to hope he can find a handicapped spot within the parking garage below the Philharmonic. But if he cannot find a place that I can get to easily, he will go to the car alone and drive it around to the curb in front of Lincoln Center where I will wait for him, leaning on my cane. That's where he'll drop me off before he goes to find a parking space.

I am excited about being with Naomi again. It's been at least two months since I have seen her. I thought I might have to use the walker, but I am going for the cane alone. I think I can handle it, and it is so much less obtrusive.

I am wishing good days for you all! Especially Antoinette, Sandy and family, and any who need special good vibes.

Love,
Bernice

First Fridays wuth friends

Dear family and friends,

Ilona picked me up to go to the Jolly Fisherman for lunch with a group that meets regularly on the 1st Friday of the month, about 10 women but usually no more than 6-7 at a time. Very lovely day today and nice meal as always. When we first moved to this area in 1954 we noticed lots of grey- and white-haired people entering this Roslyn restaurant, and we said, "This is not a place for us." Now we say, "This is a good place for us!" Ann, Joan, Rita, Ilona, Gladys and I were the happy group.

Yesterday, I tried to recreate my mother's recipe for what she called chicken fricassee. I made mine with ground turkey instead of chicken, mixed with egg substitute, matzoh meal (very little), and spices: Mint-Chutney, an Indian condiment according to the jar label, and ground pepper. I made a broth with chicken cubes, the liquid from a can of beets, flavored with honey and lemon. I added lentils, because Merwin likes them a lot, the turkey balls (one layer at a time), and simmered gently till the lentils were soft, adding the beets at the very end, . He liked this enough to have some again for his dinner today (at about 2 p.m.). Was this like what my mother made? Well, she certainly did not use Mint Chutney spice. But it may have been close. Since I don't eat meat, I can only guess.

I heard this a.m. that Obama's approval rating is 37%. This is unbelievable to me. I approve of him about 90%. He is intelligent, funny, calm, far-seeing, eager for bi-partisanship (Good Luck!), moving forward on many fronts. He inherited a dreadful financial situation (thank you, Reagan for letting Wall Street do whatever it wishes) and an ugly war (I don't think he made the right decision there). There are so many lies. Ann mentioned at lunch that one of the health workers where her husband is recuperating told her, "In 5 years, we will all have numbers tattooed on our arms: it's part of the health plan to put us into categories that will be treated or not." Can you believe this nonsense? This is a health worker. When Ann demurred, the person said, "Have you read the bill?" "No," said Ann, "have you?" "No," was the response, "but someone who has read it told me." Oh, my.

One outing is about all I can manage; then fatigue takes over. I am happy to be home while Merwin goes to his book group. Tomorrow will be a big day: first trip to NYC since the broken bone.

Lovely weather today!
I hope it brings joy to all of you.
Love,
Bernice

The freezer is empty!

Dear Family and Friends,

The last items in the freezer inspired me to make a sweet pie and a tart cheese pie, as I guess I can call it, for lunch. These worked very well. I thawed a bag of frozen raspberries and strawberries, added 1/4 C flour to soak up and thicken the liquid and 1/4 C of Splenda, a dash of cinnamon and another of Dave's delicious vanilla flavoring. I baked a ready-made pie crust, one of the last items in the freezer, and when it was brown (I pricked the bubbles as they rose), I filled it with the strawberry mix and covered the exposed crust edges with foil. This baked at 375 for about an hour, I think. It is tasty!

The cheese pie is just the filling of my mother's blintzes: 3 packages of farmer's cheese, mixed well with 3 eggs or equivalent, and poured into a baking pan: no need to oil it. I layered a skinned Bosc pear at the bottom, but should have used 2 or 3: the pear pieces shrank, so it was sparse: providing just a little taste. Merwin had some for lunch with sour cream and jam, just as if it had been real blintzes.

I also took out a big container of soup, the remains of some vegetarian meal that I had blended in the Osterizer almost a year ago! I had this for supper; Merwin had minute steaks (broiled on aluminum foil to save work). So now the freezer is ready to be cleaned up, inside and out. I removed all the many photos from the outside door. If Merwin has time, you will be seeing some of these as days go by.

So enough about the freezer already! The highlight of the day was a iChat with Michèle and Raymond. We talk and talk because we have so much to say to each other. After an hour, we had not come to the end of subjects, but decided to continue another day. Raymond's Moroccan stew was waiting for their supper. For now, iChats, even those between the USA and France as this one was, are free.

Bill, the physical therapist, came for his farewell visit. He assured me that I could call him if necessary, but more importantly he reassured me that I was doing very well. He encouraged me to use the cane, rather than the walker, even for our first New York visit, to Lincoln Center for a concert this Saturday. But I will feel safer with the walker. He also encouraged me to try driving in the next day or two. The right leg is much more flexible now, but I am concerned about having to make fast movements. We went over my exercise sheet, and he checked the ones I should concentrate on, perhaps three or four of the eight each day. I will of course continue the stationery bicycle: 27 minutes this morning.

My dear SPIN-mate Randi has offered me breakfast on my return. That's a date I will keep as soon as possible-but realistically it will be a few months.

The world news all over the place is dreadful; Merwin and I spend time absorbing it all and coming up with our own excellent solutions.

We love to hear from you. Come and see us! But call first, because I am now on the GO!

Love,
Bernice

Two big outings

Dear family and friends,

Yesterday was a busy day. First the haircut that had been scheduled day or two after the unscheduled fall and broken pelvic bone on March 16th. I also had a manicure, which comes free with a haircut during mid-week at Paul Anthony Aesthetics in Manhasset. I asked for my manicure on the main level where I get the wash and cut, by Paul himself, who, with his wife, is a friend. It's a pleasant place to go. Merwin drove me there at 11 a.m. then walked to the Manhasset Library, a short distance away, where he sat in a comfortable chair and read. Right on the dot, I was done at noon. While I was there, a very kind cosmetician, in response to my question about what I could do for the many red spots of various sizes on my arms (from dots to quarters), the breaking platelets I guess, gave me a free treatment and also gave me a little of the magic green stuff to take home and use on my own: green counteracts the purple of the spots. Wow, they are ugly. I have to, she said, go to a cosmetic store and get dermo-something and also a powder to brush over it. Since I have not used makeup for many years, I do not have these items in the cupboard. My hair is thin from the chemo, so I welcome Paul's haircut to make it look halfway decent. He brings out the slightly curly hair I have now.

The second trip was to the Roslyn movie theater for the "free" Tuesday movie. We saw Polanski's Ghost Writer, which we both enjoyed very much. It's a thriller, with many surprises and not all of them are unraveled. What is clear is that Polanski is dissing the USA's CIA torture programs and explaining perhaps why a certain British prime minister agreed so readily to a crazy war in Iraq. In any case, I wonder if the recent rulings against Polanski have anything to do with this film? revenge? I do not exonerate Polanski, but there is plenty of blame to go around, with a mother of a 13-year-old allowing her daughter certain liberties, the child herself showing very poor judgment, and above all Polanksi giving in to his lust for young flesh, which is a sexual sickness, I believe.

But Polanski was very generous to me when I was writing a paper on his Macbeth, which I think is the best film of that play yet produced. I had already written a paper on the film, which I sent him along with a request for help, which he responded to with amazing generosity. For one of the plenary papers at a film conference in Sydney Australia (a beautiful city by the way), I wanted a copy of the original script before it morphed into the version actually filmed— to follow the creative process of Kenneth Tynan and Polanski. To go into the whole process here might be tedious, so I will just say that several people helped me: the ILL librarian at NCC; a son of a friend who worked at Ohio State U, which held one of the scripts; a library at the U of California which had another script; and more. Polanski not only sent me an early script but also a copy of his own storyboard, his very rough sketches for the scenes. Though these were rough, as such sketches tend to be, they were amazingly true to the images in the final film. So I have a warm spot for Polanski for his generosity to me, a nobody in his world. He is a victim of his sexual compulsion. So little can be done about such compulsions. This does not exonerate him, but I believe him when he says that there was a plea agreement that he would be sentenced to time already served, a matter of less than two months, I believe. When he heard that the judge had had a change of mind, he fled.

After the movie, Merwin suggested going out for dinner for the first time since the fall, but I was too tired. I am using the cane more, which is stressful, and two outings in one day was probably already one too many, so I suggested making him a Winnie-the-Pooh or two at home while we watch the News Hour. Since this may be his favorite meal, he readily agreed to defer the dinner out.

In between the two outings, Ilona came over with the two painting I had purchased. They are lying on my study table now—so bright, so cheerful. They make me smile every time I glance at them. I have already chosen a wall for them, the one right behind the chair I am sitting in, so when I enter this room I will see them immediately. They join Annie's very fine roses on the wall.

At the very end of the day I got back to hamletworks.org, entering data, correcting errors. And I finally ended with a glass of red wine. Nights, unfortunately, are not great: lots of sleeplessness, turning on the light to read, tossing and twisting to find a comfortable place for my right leg: it is getting better but bothers me most at night because I can't ignore it as I do during the day.

I was going to mention the freezer again, but suffice it to say that it is, as I write this, virtually empty and ready to be defrosted. Hooray for organization!

Love to all,
Bernice

Fascinating history

Dear family and friends,

Yesterday, I was submerged in the puzzle of the Rylands Measure for Measure. First, it had more than one incarnation, a version with an all-male cast and a version with females for all of the women except Madam Overdone, the bawd. The former came to St. Ann's Warehouse in Brooklyn in Dec. 2005. I got hooked on the Globe Measure after seeing it the other day with Laury, a version the BBC captured at London's Globe Theatre in 2004. Second, TFANA's publicity material for reviewers mentions its connection to the Rylands version. Jeffrey Horowitz, the founder and artistic director of TFANA, definitely has a Globe association: TFANA was the first American company invited to present a production there. Third, the director of TFANA's Measure obviously adopted some ploys of the Globe version while rejecting others. The puzzle of the interconnectedness among these versions energizes me, but unfortunately I seem to have lost (misplaced, given away) the copies of the Shakespeare Bulletin that might have clarified the puzzles of sometimes conflicting information in published newspaper reviews.

I also continued my freezer work and discovered many items that could be used immediately and others that could be thrown away. I decided to broil the chicken legs, making a marinade for them of fresh lemon juice, finely-minced garlic, a little dark sesame oil, a very little low-salt soy sauce, and a good amount of honey. Of course the latter element, so welcome to Merwin who loves his bit of sweet, caused quite a bit of burnt sugar on the broiler pan. I must remember to use aluminum foil pans in such instances. They are more energy efficient than the aluminum pan, which could take an hour to soak and scrub. Besides the chicken, the freezer yielded cooked pasta shells and peas, which, combined, made a nice side dish. I will be poking my head in the freezer again today.

Yesterday I looked at some notebooks with such things as records of parties and menus and guests, freewriting for OA and ME, captures of dreams, and the like. I discarded all of these. One notebook I will keep: it has the notes I wrote while and shortly after attending, with my sister, my mother's bedside when she was dying. It was the best kind of death, I think. She had had a heart attack and remained cogent and conscious for three days. This was in 1980, when she was 86, beginning to be a little shaky mentally, and she was ready to die. The notes of our conversations are lovely. “I had a good life,” she said at one point. “I hope my children have such a good life.” Later, “They have to make a good life. I made a good life.” Indeed she did. The girl whose father had died when she was 4 years old, who went to work in a home-factory in Ukraine when she was six, who began her schooling in night school in the USA, where she came when she was 17, leading her older sister who depended on my mother's savvy, who worked in a cap factory here, who fell in love with my father and was determined to be with him in any way he chose for as long as he chose, who became a business-woman and a balabusta, who was ever cheerful, loving a joke, enjoying a polka above all dances. We had our share of difficulties, we two. I am a believer in Freud's Oedipal theory because I know that my mother and I lived it. But by the end of her life, I had made up for my antagonisms. I hope so. We each thought my father loved us best (my sister too), a special gift my loving father had.

At her bedside when she died were two nurses and her doctor—all there to see her out with me and my sister. One of the nurses, I learned later was Dee, who became part of the Sunday runners I joined, who remembered my mother well, and who, I had noticed, was crying as much as my sister and I were, perhaps more because we were still trying to communicate with her. She was in a lot of pain, and for some reason that bewilders me it was considered wrong to give morphine enough to quell the pain. Thus she was completely lucid right up to the last moment, But why did she have to suffer that way? fear that this dying woman would become addicted?

These notes of the last two or three days are a treasure I will share with my children and grandchildren. The notebook also has the voluminous notes I wrote when I was an extra in Ragtime, the movie, on its last day of production. Much waiting around is the modus operandi, so I had plenty of time to observe and write.

Bill, the P.T., came for his penultimate visit, and in spite of pain, I walked for a half hour with him up and down the block, using the cane of course. He says I can start trying to drive a little, perhaps just around the block, to test how my right leg, the bad one, will function. I am a little fearful of driving: fast moves are sometimes required. I am going to take that very slowly. I had done 20 minutes on my stationary bicycle and hope to add a few minutes every day. Have to build up to SPIN levels.

Looking forward to a busy day today.
Love to all,
Bernice