Monthly Archives:

June 2018

30
June
2018
Tags: Music
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We Shall Meet Again In September…

Ahh, the musical montage. That glorious bit of cinematic magic wherein a key song plays over a spattering of key dramatic moments, in which storylines are advanced, tied up, or busted open while a single snippet of music brings it all together. I love a good musical montage. I’ve also found one to see us off into summer break and take us through the rest of the season. It’s an oldie, from a summer long ago, and just in time it will save the day, take us to a castle far away…

HOLDING BACK THE YEARS
THINKING OF THE FEAR I’VE HAD SO LONG
WHEN SOMEBODY HEARS
LISTEN TO THE FEAR THAT’S GONE
STRANGLED BY THE WISHES OF PATER
HOPING FOR THE ARMS OF MATER
GET TO ME THE SOONER OR LATER
I’LL KEEP HOLDING ON
I’LL KEEP HOLDING ON

It’s the perfect bit of languid music minimalism, ripe for a hot and lazy summer day when it takes every last ounce of effort to simply walk from one room to another. It’s ambivalent too, like summer can be. A certain tension informs these days, when too much sudden heat can clash with cooler realms and summer storms may be born into devilish, destructive offspring. We always pay for such heat.

Last year I took my first break from the blog, not knowing what to expect, feeling a vague fear and trepidation reminiscent of whenever I had had a really good year of school, when part of me didn’t want to break for summer, as crazy and incredulous as that may sound for a kid to think. I always felt older than the others. I always knew that that was the best time of our lives. At least, I forced myself to believe that. It worked well. Not expecting as much from these grown-up years has made them feel like a bonus. And no one wants to peak too soon.

On that last day of school, when even the teachers seemed to let down their guard in giddy relief, I walked a little slower, trying vainly to still the minutes, trying to enjoy them because somehow in the previous year I had forged bonds, made connections and even formed a few friendships that would last my lifetime. It was then, near the end of the year, that I started to feel a little loved. It always came so late, and it always overwhelmed me. Maybe I wasn’t the only one who didn’t want it to end. Maybe we all wanted to be kids for just a little bit longer.

HOLDING BACK THE YEARS
CHANCE FOR ME TO ESCAPE FROM ALL I’VE KNOWN
HOLDING BACK THE TEARS
CAUSE NOTHING HERE HAS GROWN
I’VE WASTED ALL MY TEARS, WASTED ALL THOSE YEARS
AND NOTHING HAD THE CHANCE TO BE GOOD
NOTHING EVER COULD

It only took the brief walk home, however, to turn off school-mode and ease instantly into vacationland. By the time I reached our house, that brief bout of nostalgia passed and only elation and the hope of a full summer ahead was left. I’d throw my pencils up into the sky, scattering them on the roof of our garage where they’d fade and warp in the sun and summer rains. I’d inhale the freshly-cut grass and begin the daily ritual of examining the gardens. Between bike rides and trading baseball cards, I would do my best to indulge in the traditional trappings of a boy in summer, and for the most part I enjoyed the days as they passed. Part of me longed for adventure, for something more exciting like we’d seen in ‘The Goonies‘ or ‘Stand By Me‘, and whenever we’d see a movie and were waiting for our ride, we’d roam the sparkly cement of the Amsterdam Mall parking lot and race into whatever dramatic scenario we’d concocted in our mind. The same spirit would accompany our night-time pool play, where we’d splash in the aqua light like some ‘Poltergeist’ meets ‘Jaws’ monster-mash. They were simple joys, and we never needed anything else. When left to their own devices, children will find a way to entertain themselves. Sometimes I think parents today feel some strange need to provide continual and constant stimulation, entertainment and occupation for their kids – when they really just need to be left alone. But what do I know? Andy and I remain happily unburdened by children. We are lucky that way. Besides, we have more than enough kids in our orbit to fulfill any sense of missing something, and we get to give them back at the end of the day. (Sometimes before the end of the day.)

I’LL KEEP HOLDING ON
I’LL KEEP HOLDING ON
I’LL KEEP HOLDING ON
I’LL KEEP HOLDING ON

As we wind down for summer, I’m reminded of those television shows that went on hiatus until the fall, leaving us with re-runs and non-challenging fare. Sometimes they ended with a bang, and a big dramatic cliffhanger (remember ‘Dallas’ and the whole ‘Who shot J.R.?’ mystery?) Just as often, however, they finished in quieter form, with a more contemplative place-holder. This post is one of the latter and that feels right for this moment in time – both for the blog and the summer. It’s simply too hot to work up a bombastic season finale. Instead, I’m putting ‘Music’ on repeat and holding on.

For now, if you remember last summer, this is not a goodbye. It is a quick little break to allow us both to enjoy the season of the sun without the onus of obligation, a chance to break away from the computer or the phone and take a swim, see a silly movie, or sleep in. It will pass too soon, the days will dwindle, and before we know it the cool night whispers of September will be tickling our ears and begging for the heat to be put to sleep. That heat has only just begun, and we’re at the point where we can embrace it.

HOLDING, HOLDING, HOLDING…
THAT’S ALL I HAVE TODAY
IT’S ALL I HAVE TO SAY.

The oscillation of a fan casts its sleepy spell.

A cicada revs up its shrill symphony.

Water laps at the edge of oceans, lakes, ponds and pools.

Summer settles in, adjusting her pretty, ruffled finery.

In a very quiet room, I try to sit very still. Outside the window, I can see the heat rising off the pavement in those surreal waves that seem to bend the air. Already, the peonies have been overcome by mildew. The lilacs will not be far behind. Others come into their own with such heat – the sweet potato vines have finally started leaping out of their pots. A lion’s paw plant has begun its subtle but steady ascent. The cup plant, provided it gets enough water, stretches its staunch stems skyward. Soon it will bloom in happy daisy-like faces of bright yellow, to be visited by bees and butterflies, and later by the goldfinches. They will scatter its ripe seed on the ground, starting the cycle over again, continuing this beautiful circle of life on its wondrously infinite trajectory.

This is the moment for which we’ve waited.

This is the garden in all its glory.

This is summer…

See you in September.

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30
June
2018
Tags: Family, Music
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The Glory of Summer & Brotherly Love

For most of my childhood summers my brother was my best friend. Away from the daily circumstance of school, and without cel phones or the internet, we lost touch with school friends that we had grown accustomed to seeing daily. Stranded in the same house, raised by the same parents, my brother and I are the only two people in the world who shared almost the exact same upbringing. No one, not even Suzie, has a keener understanding of what it was like to grow up in the Ilagan household, with all its requisite glories and flaws and luxuries and discipline. My brother shared all those things for the first decade and a half of our lives before we went our own ways and forged our own paths.

Back then, it was just him and me, and I didn’t mind in the least.

TONIGHT IT’S VERY CLEAR, AS WE’RE BOTH LYING HERE
THERE’S SO MANY THINGS I WANT TO SAY
I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU, I WOULD NEVER LEAVE YOU ALONE
SOMETIMES I JUST FORGET, SAY THINGS I MIGHT REGRET
IT BREAKS MY HEART TO SEE YOU CRYING
I DON’T WANT TO LOSE YOU, I COULD NEVER MAKE IT ALONE. 

We had friends in the neighborhood that we’d play with ~ Michael and Eric and Jennifer ~ but I was more content when it was the two of us, riding our bikes across town to grab baseball cards and candy, or down to the small corner aquarium store to see the fish. There was a huge 100-gallon tank of freshwater fish near the back of the store, filled with colorful decorations and large denizens slowly swimming above its graveled expanse. I remember the owner of the store, Linda, and how we could mark the passing of time in her hair and, later, her pregnancies. She had a short hair phase, then there was a tragic perm moment (from which she never quite recovered) and finally ~ thankfully ~ she started to grow it out. By then we had almost grown up.

I AM A MAN WHO WILL FIGHT FOR YOUR HONOR
I’LL BE THE HERO YOU’RE DREAMING OF
WE’LL LIVE FOREVER, KNOWING TOGETHER
THAT WE DID IT ALL FOR THE GLORY OF LOVE.

This song, an unabashed love song, is a strange one to intertwine among memories of my brother, but its essence could be read on a grander scale than finite romantic love. It was part of ‘The Karate Kid’ ~ a movie that I saw with my brother, and it filled the radio of one of those childhood summers. In the hot and humid nights, back when heat and humidity didn’t bother us (childhood has a way of making us weather-resistant), we’d listen to this on the radio, caring not a whit for Peter Cetera’s cheesy delivery or the banal cliches of knights in shining armor and castles far away. What did we know of romantic love at that point? Nothing, and we didn’t want to know. Sometimes children have all the wisdom.

Instead, we reveled in brotherly love, even if we would never say or acknowledge it. We emboldened one another. It’s often been assumed that my brother was more of a risk-taker than me, that he would make questionable choices and do occasionally-foolish things, acting as daredevil to my more sensible angel. That wasn’t really the case when we were kids. My brother was most often the voice of safety and reason when I wanted to do something really stupid. He was the one concerned about Mom and Dad and what they would do to us if we got caught. I just had the confidence to assume we wouldn’t get caught, and most of the time that carried us through. Like when I stole an expensive (or so I thought at the time) baseball card from one of the local dealers. We were browsing with a friend, and on a dare or desire to impress my brother (I could do crazy-ass daring things too!) I stuffed some rookie card down the front of my shorts into my underwear. I thought I did it furtively, but the owner, a cigar-chomping rotund gentleman with straggly yet curly hair that was running away from the top of his head, must have seen me, and immediately stopped me from leaving the store. Alerted at this point by the accosting, but unaware of what I had done, my brother looked at me and waited. The owner said he saw me stuff a card down my pants. I denied it, and through sheer force of will and defiance, one of the only times in my life when I have been so bold, I stood my ground and dared him: “If it’s in my pants, why don’t you come and get it?” (I didn’t watch all those soap operas for nothing.) He backed away and just yelled at us to get out of his store. We got on our bikes and quickly pedaled away. Amused and a little irate, my brother asked, because he didn’t quite believe me, whether I had taken the card. “Of course not,” I replied. Then I rode ahead of him a little, pulled the card from my underwear, and waved it in the air to show him without saying a word. Older brothers have been doing stupid shit to impress their younger brothers since the world began. Most of the time it doesn’t work.

YOU KEEP ME STANDING TALL, YOU HELP ME THROUGH IT ALL
I’M ALWAYS STRONG WHEN YOU’RE BESIDE ME
I HAVE ALWAYS NEEDED YOU, I COULD NEVER MAKE IT ALONE… 

We had our arguments, like all brothers will, and at the end of them we’d separate for a while, cooling off in our respective corners. The world would turn a little dimmer whenever that happened. I remember one time we were building a fort in the forest and we got into a ridiculous fight about how to make it or something, and it ended with us going off to make our own separate forts.

We eyed each other suspiciously, scrambling for materials before the other could get them, racing to see who would finish first and whose would be the better. Neither of us ever won then. We were better as a team, stronger when we were together and on the same side. But sibling rivalry runs deep. We did not see that then. Our forts, and the loneliness that resulted from erecting them on our own, were emblematic of our struggle. We abandoned them. The summer storms ripped their walls of twigs apart. Every time we’d return after a heavy rain, more had washed away. The floor, which we had raked and swept and kept free of debris would be littered with leaves and branches. Deciduous boughs, bent and tied to form a canopy, broke free of their string and returned to their natural form, taking the make-shift ceiling with them. Summer could be as destructive as she was sunny.

I AM A MAN WHO WILL FIGHT FOR YOUR HONOR
I’LL BE THE HERO YOU’RE DREAMING OF
WE’LL LIVE FOREVER, KNOWING TOGETHER
THAT WE DID IT ALL FOR THE GLORY OF LOVE. 

For a summer best friend, one could do a lot worse than my brother. He had the qualities I lacked but so often admired. He wore his sensitivity on his sleeve; I kept mine hidden. He was more open and raw about getting hurt, emotionally and physically; I kept my pain quiet and private. He was quick to play and please; I was quick to run and hide. Yet for all our differences, for all our childhood summers, those differences bound us together in ways I still don’t completely understand. We each seemed to supply what the other lacked, whether we realized it or not. But maybe it was simpler than that. Maybe we just wanted a playmate. When the sun was out, and the summer beckoned, the best thing to do was share it with someone.

IT’S LIKE A KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOR, FROM A LONG TIME AGO
JUST IN TIME I WILL SAVE THE DAY, TAKE YOU TO MY CASTLE FAR AWAY

And so we carved out our summer adventures. When my brother would journey out on his own or with a neighborhood friend, I’d sometimes stay behind and immediately regret it. At those times I’d stay inside, watching out the window like a dog waiting for its owner to come home, hoping they wouldn’t be gone for too long. Solitude was my resting stance, but that didn’t mean I wanted to be alone all the time, and certainly not on a sunny summer day.

It takes me a long time to feel safe and comfortable enough to make friends, so my brother was often my conduit to social interaction in those days. He was a talisman of sorts whenever I felt anxious about being accepted or part of the group. In that way, he was more like an older brother, and me his younger charge in need of a little help. He was better at talking to people whereas my shyness was crippling. He probably did more to bring me out of my shell than anyone else, and in his company I could feel bold and brash (and apparently bodacious enough to steal a baseball card). Without knowing it, my brother was the protective hero that I would so long for when the world turned its back and closed its doors.

I AM A MAN WHO WILL FIGHT FOR YOUR HONOR
I’LL BE THE HERO YOU’RE DREAMING OF
WE’LL LIVE FOREVER, KNOWING TOGETHER
THAT WE DID IT ALL FOR THE GLORY OF LOVE.

All these years later, summer is still the season that seems to bring us together as brothers again. Christmas does that in quicker and shorter fashion, but summer, for whatever magical reason, finds my brother and I able to see each other more, to visit and hang outside while his kids swim, or have a sleep-over without having to worry about anyone getting up to go to school. We’re able to travel easier and get to see each other more in the summer months.

It reminds me of our childhood in the best way.

WE’LL LIVE FOREVER, KNOWING TOGETHER
THAT WE DID IT ALL FOR THE GLORY OF LOVE.
WE DID IT ALL FOR LOVE.

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29
June
2018
Tags: General
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A Summer Look-Back Before Break

Tomorrow marks the last day of new posts on ALANILAGAN.com for a while – at least until September (or possibly until Madonna drops a new single and I’m excited enough to write about it). As such, this is going to be one of those lengthy, linky entries with lots of avenues to summer posts from the past. Like it does with songs and scents, summer seems to make memories more indelible. Here are some of my favorites, for your leisurely perusal when the site goes dark. Bookmark accordingly.

Summer memories, doubling back again.

A simple salad.

Summer gun morning.

Tan lines by Tom Ford.

Limoncello cocktail.

Asclepias in the sky, I can go twice as high.

Lavender dreams.

Ooh la la!

Torn and tattered and beautiful.

Naked in the moonlight.

The great relief.

Boston summer flowers.

Amber summer fragrance by Tom Ford.

A queen’s birthday.

Summer visit.

Virgin poaching.

Summer Speedo.

Bedtime fragrance.

A summer recap.

Summer skin one…

… to summer skin two.

Swaying in the summer breeze.

Soft kisses on a summer day.

Summer shirtlessness.

Naked summer Olympics.

The sky in summer.

A perfect summer day.

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28
June
2018
Tags: General
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The Final Countdown…

This is almost it – our second annual summer hiatus is practically at hand and I cannot wait! The last day of new blog posts for the season will be this Saturday, June 30, 2018. Then we will go dark until September. Those four remaining posts will hopefully see you through the summer days, and there are more than enough links in each of them to keep you well-occupied should you miss this place.

Personally, I won’t miss it much. While I love writing and creating content, the promotion of these posts is done mostly through social media, which of late is a nasty place to visit. Taking a break from here will enable me to take a break from there. FaceBook and Twitter are both being taken over by dark forces, and though I fight back as much as possible, I’ve been finding more joy in the simple pleasures of pictures on Instagram. That’s where I may be spending most of my online time this summer, so watch that space and follow!

As for this site, I recently spent some time outlining a rough long-range trajectory for the rest of its time here. All things, good and bad, must eventually come to an end. Nothing lasts forever. The temporal nature of life, especially online life, has been on my mind. Someday this blog will end, at least my part in it. In the past, I’ve sort of skirted and avoided the topic because ending something is often a sad affair, and the thought of being forced to stop doing something I love is not pleasurable. But this labor of love is indeed laborious, and after last summer’s break I realized there was a lot to accomplish when I didn’t need to worry about writing thousands of words a week. I’ll always find a creative outlet as that is my way of surviving such a mundane world, but it need not be here. Merely keeping a diary is enough. That said, there is something to sharing things with those who want to listen and who might relate to something I’ve said. For now, I’m not quite ready to give that up. I do, however, see that this endeavor has an end date, and for perhaps one of the first times I am facing that and stating it now. There is an exhilaration in such a declaration, and I hope it gives this blog, when it returns in the fall, a renewed jolt of inspiration and urgency.

I’ve been doing this since 2003. This website is over fifteen years old. It’s a dinosaur among dinosaurs. If we liken the lifespan of the blog to the seasonal cycle, I’d gauge us at somewhere within the fall portion of the year. We’ve had our spring and summer, and we are beyond the half-way point of its existence as far as I can see. The good thing is that fall and winter carry their own charms and enticements, some of which are richer than anything spring or summer can conjure. Good things are yet to come.

We’re leaving together,
But still it’s farewell
And maybe we’ll come back
To earth, who can tell?
I guess there is no one to blame
We’re leaving ground (leaving ground)
Will things ever be the same again?
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28
June
2018
Tags: Flowers
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A Single Flower for a Single Day

Behold the simple daylily. Found roadside on many a stretch of America, these common plants are synonymous with summer. Fiery, fresh, and gone too soon, they share many of summer’s traits. Each blossom lasts but a single day (if that) but many buds are held by each stem, giving the appearance of a longer blooming period.

One of my self-imposed childhood chores was to deadhead these in the border I planted in our backyard. I’d ordered a collection of hybrid daylilies from Wayside Gardens, to supplement the single substantial mound of the traditional form you see pictured here, which up to that point had been our only brush with this easy-going plant. Its strap-like foliage stayed handsome year-round, and even though the blooming period of a single bud was a day, their voluminous grouping of buds made for a decent few weeks of successive color. For that reason, daylilies became the early backbone of our garden.

Today, I still thrill at the sight of a wild patch of these blooming in almost unassuming fashion. They occupy a rare room of memory in which the reality matches up with the fantasy. For me, the fantasy was finding a flower like this blooming in a stretch of forest edge beside an unlikely section of road. It was near my old elementary school, down a bank littered with mostly deciduous trees. There, beside the sidewalk, was an impressive stand of daylilies, nodding their orange blooms beneath the dappled sunlight. They were set back a bit from the road, and I wondered whether anyone else had seen them. For me, it seemed like a delicious secret. I ventured down there one day to inspect them up close. The walk was longer than I’d usually go, and that section of forest was unknown to me so I had to be more cautious. Eventually, after a battle with some hefty wild grapevines, I found the daylilies.

They were even more exquisite at close range, where I could better appreciate the bright green leaves and slender stems, along with the brightly-colored flowers – all fire and glowing embers, like little goblets of flame held aloft on torches of green. There was a dip in the ground nearby, which filled with water during the wetter parts of the year. It lent a tropical aspect to the space, and next to the daylily blooms it was like some snippet of paradise, as far removed from upstate New York as one could be.

I savored the moment and embedded the memory in my mind, where it remains to this very day. Summer works its wonders…

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25
June
2018
Tags: General
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Hazy Wet Recap

This is the last week that ALANILAGAN.com will be up until our return in the fall. I have a couple of kick-ass posts before then, however, provided I can overcome all these 500 Internal Errors that keep happening. In the meantime, a look back over the last week for anyone who missed it.

Summer came upon us in glorious fashion.

Fuck Trump.

Cologne chaos with Chris.

The Madonna Timeline returned with one of Madonna’s most introspective songs.

Family time at the Amsterdam castle.

A charming visit to Manhattan with Andy, in multiple part glory: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7 and Part 8.

Adam Rippon got naked for the ESPN Body Issue.

A Boston/Cape Cod whirlwind: Part One and Part Two.

Hunks of the Day included Phillip Picardi and Dominic Cooper.

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25
June
2018
Tags: Naked Male Celebrities, Sports
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A Very Naked Adam Rippon

Just before taking off for summer break, we lucked out on the timing of this post, which allows me to post several photos from Adam Rippon’s ESPN Naked Body Issue, a very happy time for the world, when athletes doff their uniforms in favor of their God-given suits and strut their stuff in fully nude form. That always gets a big celebratory post here, as we’ve seen here and here and here, particularly among such favored luminaries as Julian Edelman, Rob Gronkowski, and Michael Phelps. Now we can add Adam Rippon to that esteemed list. Mr. Rippon was featured here a number of times, notably in this post and that one. (Ok, this one too.)

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25
June
2018
Tags: Travel
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Boston/Cape Cod Whirl ~ Part 2

Sea had stayed at bay during the night. I’d kept the windows closed as it had cooled down considerably. Upon waking and walking to Cafe Madeleine, however, I noticed Sea was still around, a bit more sulky, perhaps, and she would follow me to Cape Cod, sifting through the sky and pouring down once I reached my destination. JoAnn and I sat near the bay window of her little mermaid home on Shore Road as the rain poured down, a worrisome state of affairs for Tressie’s graduation later that afternoon. The radar showed it moving off shore in the coming hours, though, and I remained hopeful it would clear. As JoAnn and I caught up, the sky lightened. Sea had thrown her fit and let Eel Pond take over for a bit.

I took a short walk to the Lobster Trap for a seafood fix, where I had the fortune to run into JoAnn’s sister Kate and her daughter Madison. They were good enough to join me for lunch, and celebrating Kate’s birthday as well, which is just how the universe sometimes works. The guests were gathering for the party. Excitement was in the air like the Sea.

On the walk home, I rounded the house and went a few more blocks out of the way to extend the beauty of the Cape. Privet and beach roses were in full bloom, sweetly scenting the misty air. Sea ran in channels all about the area, and I breathed her in alongside the oceanic cologne that wafted off the lichens and moss and wet-loving organisms.

Sky was gray, but her sister Blue had found habitation among the iconic Cape Cod hydrangeas. They don’t get any bluer than here. Subtler shades were found in the wet wreckage of the roadside vegetation, but there were accents of bright color if you got closer and slowed down to see.

Back in JoAnn’s backyard, her work on the gardens over the last couple of years was coming into beautiful fruition. Proper cultivation brought about bigger blooms, brighter colors and a pleasant richness that usually begins in a garden’s third or fourth year. The lessons of a garden were working their own magic – patience, persistence, perpetual failure followed by moments of redemption and gorgeous success. She’s a relatively new gardener, but she’s doing well and finding her way. It came about at just the right time, in just the manner the world intended it to be. A bit of grace, perhaps, in a mad world.

Hope was to be found in the future at hand as well, and celebrating Tressie’s graduation from college was a happy way of bringing everyone together, which is what JoAnn does best. I’ve had the pleasure of being her friend for almost twenty years, and in that time I’ve had the occasional favor of getting to peep in on parties and gatherings where her family members would enter and exit at various stages in our lives.

This was one of those times when everyone seemed to be at a good place. That rarely happens in such fortuitous fashion, not when there are so many of us treading so many different paths, but for one afternoon in June, when the rain held off and the breeze wasn’t too cool, a group of hopeful college grads christened us all with the bit of hope that we needed so badly.

Early the next morning, I departed for my niece’s dance recital, continuing on the circle of life. The day began uncool, gray fashion, and I was leaving Sea behind for the moment. We will be back to see her before the summer is over.

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25
June
2018
Tags: Travel
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Boston/Cape Cod Whirl ~ Part 1

Sea whispered to me when I arrived in Boston. She peaked around corners, she skulked in the shadows, she stepped alongside me in the sun. Everywhere I walked, I felt she was there. She tickled my nose with her salty seduction, teasing and tempting with her mineral-laden scent. On certain summer days, that’s what Sea did best, and as I began my perambulation of Boston, she was in the air.

The weekend would be informed by Sea, who had a strong backing wind, one that brought her all the way to Braddock Park and the South End, and one that would follow in the misty air as I made my way to Cape Cod the next day. First, though, a few glimpses of the flowers that were in striking form along the streets of Boston.

Roses tumbled out of every little square of dirt – full, multi-branched mini-bouquets of roses, arching and weighing down their thorny boughs, reaching out to entice all passers-by with their prettiness and perfume. It was a beautiful afternoon, but I could still sense Sea, could feel her in the humid, murky descent of evening. I made my way through the cobblestone streets of the oldest parts of the city. Some of the steps were haunted, by Sea and by History. Her story too. I was scoping out scenes for the upcoming BroSox Adventure with Skip, and found some new possibilities in the night. It will be a summer weekend when we go, but the autumn may beckon a bit, hinting of mystery and impending coziness. August plays out that way. But I’m getting ahead of myself, and early summer is not the time to do that.

I did not have the option of making it a late night, having to get up at dawn to beat the traffic over the bridge to Cape Cod. Besides, when Sea is in the air, memories and spirits move easier among worlds, especially at night. It’s better to hide in slumber at such times. I hurried home to the condo, ran up the steps, and locked the door behind me.

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24
June
2018
Tags: General
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Hunk of the Day: Dominic Cooper

Dominic Cooper first came to my attention with his charismatic turn in ‘The History Boys’, a film adapted from the 2006 Tony-winning play. It’s no easy feat to steal a film from such accomplished actors as Richard Griffiths and Frances de la Tour, not to mention upstarts like James Corden, Russell Tovey and future Broadway Harry Potter lead Jamie Parker, but Mr. Cooper managed to do just that. Tonight, he returns in the third season of the inflammatory ‘Preacher’ – which added the ever-compelling Betty Buckley to its roster of indelible characters. In honor of all that, this is his first Hunk of the Day crowning. 

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24
June
2018
Tags: General
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Meeting an Idol in Manhattan – Part 8

This day of departure was mirrored in the morning weather of midtown – cloudy, misty, and bordering on rain. Yet there was fullness in our hearts, thanks to a wonderful weekend and a magnificent Betty Buckley performance. One can’t be sorry too long with such happy memories stored neatly away in such fresh wrapping. We packed our bags and headed to Grand Central Station.

It’s so much nicer there than Penn Station – we should probably consider saving money and driving down to the station that usually goes into this one for the future. Though there is no seating in the waiting area, it is so much prettier and more spacious that it’s worth a bit of standing. It was much easier to board too, without all the subterranean escalators and cramped lines and lunatics that seem to overrun Penn Station.

Our time in Manhattan had come to a close. I wish we could have stayed a little longer, but there were comforts only home could provide – a pool, a conversation couch, a fluffy bed – and we would return to New York in the fall anyway to see ‘Come From Away’ with my parents. (The first thing any sensible person does upon ending a vacation is to plan the next one.)

Another comforting thought was that the one constant throughout this weekend of fun was Andy, and since he was coming along with me we could have our own adventures closer to home. Even with his limited mobility, he soldiered through, and thanks to some help from Uber we got everywhere we needed to go. The city had opened up secret glimpses of beauty, lifting the veil from its hidden treasures so that we could see the magic of a perfect rose or hear the gorgeousness of a song of hope.

Until we return…

 

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24
June
2018
Tags: Andy, Travel
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Meeting an Idol in Manhattan – Part 7

The lobby of the Public Theatre is bright and clean. I’d been there to see ‘Here Lies Love’ a few years ago, and we had had dinner at the Library. Tonight that place is closed for a private event, but it’s not food I’m after. In the electric anticipation of seeing one of my lifelong idols take the stage just a few feet from my seat, I mill excitedly about. I feel the same eager joy I experienced right before seeing ‘Sunset Boulevard’ during Betty Buckley’s triumphant run. Twenty-plus years and eighteen albums later the elation hasn’t diminished. If anything, it’s more stirring, because in all that time Ms. Buckley’s work has informed key portions of my life. One entire fall of my college life was framed by her haunting rendition of ‘When October Goes’, followed by ‘My Love and I’ in a forlorn winter. As she’s evolved, many of us have faithfully followed, from ‘Sunset’ to ‘Triumph of Love’ to ‘Gypsy’ and ‘Grey Gardens’. Her next venture is the national tour of ‘Hello, Dolly!’ but before she starts spreading that happiness, the final night of her series of performances at Joe’s Pub to celebrate the release of the ‘Hope’ album was at hand.

We decided to buy the new CD in the moments leading up to the show, and by the time we take our seats near the stage we have each shared our stories of seeing Ms. Buckley over the years and everyone feels a little closer and, yes, a little more hopeful. I won’t get into the wonder of the performance (you can read all about it here). It will have to do with being nothing less than a dream come true.

After the show, she was gracious enough to sign some CDs, and Andy finally convinced me to tell her that I had a written a couple of blog posts about her.

“Oh, you’re that Alan!” she exclaimed, and opened her arms to hug me.

It was one of the nicest things an idol could have done. I didn’t want to hold the line up, so I thanked her quickly for all the music she’s made over the years, and she was even more gracious in posing for a picture. It was the perfect ending to a perfect night of music, and as we rode home in the New Yok night, Andy and I were both elated.

It would be difficult to leave the next morning, as it always is after an exceptionally good time…

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23
June
2018
Tags: Andy, Travel
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Meeting an Idol in Manhattan – Part 6

Believe it or not, Andy and I don’t go on that many traditional date nights. We cook for ourselves, get take-out, and often join friends and family for dinner, but a sit-down restaurant for just the two of us is rarer than it should be. On this evening, I made reservations at that 80’s chestnut Indochine, since it was right across the street from Joe’s Pub, where our show was playing later that night. We sat down at a cozy table (once a very inebriated and cranky woman allowed us to slide past her seat) and took our time with our meal, beginning with some cocktails and a delicious dish of grilled eggplant that simply melted in the mouth. With its accents of fresh tomatoes and coriander, it was a treat.

The meal itself was lovely as well – this pungent seafood bouillabaisse was flavored with coconut and curry then given an added jolt of fresh herbs on top. (Most people don’t realize how potent a few leaves of coriander or mint can be – it can make all the difference.)

The best part of date night is getting to try two desserts instead of one. Andy ordered this chocolate mousse, while I opted for a lemon tart. We shared so we could try a bit of each. As Winnie-the-Pooh once remarked with startling wisdom, “It’s so much friendlier with two.”

Our desserts done, it was time for the main show, and the true purpose of our weekend in New York: an evening with Betty Buckley.

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23
June
2018
Tags: Andy, Travel
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Meeting an Idol in Manhattan – Part 5

There may be no greater pleasure in life than getting to watch your husband find joy and delight in an unexpected surprise. Even eighteen years into our relationship, it still tickles me. This one came in the midst of an otherwise uneventful walk back to Midtown. We were escaping the increasing heat by ducking into the shops along Fifth Avenue (ok, maybe I was multi-tasking by shopping as well) after passing through an Indian Festival on the edge of Union Square. Suddenly, a colorful sea of saris swarmed in front of us, and the entire avenue was filled with a parade that seemed to materialize out of nowhere. Brilliance and sparkle and exuberance surrounded us, and three enormous chariots raised their fabric towers and set into motion.

This was the Chariot Festival, making its way down Fifth Avenue, a thousand times more gorgeous and exciting than all the goods in Zara and Club Monaco. I watched as Andy got out his phone and smiled as he took a video of the spectacle (check it out on his Instagram feed). I imagined him as a kid, thrilling at their dog’s antics, or the hatching of a chick he helped to raise, or some car of which he knew the make and model and entire history. His happiness made me happy.

Soon, the parade passed us by, and we walked until we collapsed in our hotel. A well-earned siesta would pass the time until dinner and the show. Part of me couldn’t wait until our brush with Betty Buckley later that evening, part of me didn’t want the day to end…

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23
June
2018
Tags: Andy, Travel
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Meeting an Idol in Manhattan – Part 4

Art is everywhere in New York, and not only in the abundance of museums and traditional show places. It’s in the way these parks reclaim nature’s power, slowly subsuming the very boundaries put in place to keep things out, and in. We stopped to examine the way this tree was slowly eating up the iron fence beside it. It was difficult to discern which came first. Perhaps they were both put in at the same time, and were just now coming to blows. Or maybe this is a melding of two entities long hoping to touch and intertwine. For now, it’s an interesting stand-off.

We reached the Village just as the sun reached its zenith. I knew Andy was struggling, and he said we had to sit down for a bit. It was a good time for both of us to sit in a park, right beside a statue of Mayor LaGuardia. Birds flitted about us as a nice breeze added comfort to the dappled shade. A little pool of calm in the midst of the chaos that is Manhattan. Somehow, its chaos is contained, like these little collections of street art – contained within the specific limitations of their physicality. Bound by the borders of a wall of a mail box, hindered by the gradual wear of winter winds and summer storms, the art here is fleeting, ever-changing.

It is as rough as it is rich. Layered in complexity and meaning beyond what a quick drive-by or pedestrian brush could fully reveal. It awaits revelation as much as it defies discovery, covert and overt at once.

These are the little surprises that call to everyone differently. Some don’t hear anything at all. Some hear the grandest symphony, the most lush flourishes from the universal chorus of the cosmos, come to sing their very own theme song.

There was one more surprise in store for us before we made it back to the hotel…

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