My love affair with the Beekman Boys continues, as their recent re-release of a former favorite – Aloe and Iris – arrived on my doorstep the other day. Iris is a tricky scent to isolate and convey through soap or toiletries. I’ve yet to find a cologne or perfume that does justice to the spicy, complex floral of a proper bearded iris. With that said, I wasn’t expecting much from my first brush with Aloe & Iris, but I was pleasantly surprised to find my naked, shower-soaked self brought instantly back to a garden in some splendid June day of my childhood. While the Beekman Boys version doesn’t reek of iris in perfect imitation, it carries enough of the notes to conjure that beautiful flower, and in the midst of my evening shower I was instantly transported to a very specific and happy moment of childhood.
I remember only the setting quite clearly. It was the somewhat hidden side-yard garden of Suzie’s house. T0 be honest, I don’t even remember Suzie being there, and if history is any indication, she probably wasn’t. We were raised like sibiings, so when one or the other of us got tired of the other one, we would simply walk somewhere else and go about our day. In one of the enduring hallmarks of our friendship, we could do that without hard feelings or questions.
On that particular day, I recall making my way down the crumbling set of stones that made for a rather rustic staircase leading from the driveway to the lower side yard. Swaths of blooming purple centaurea stretched out on either side of the bank, turning their heads up at the bright midday sun, enjoying the heat as much as the bees that were buzzing about them. Their fragrance was sweet, but it wasn’t the fix I was after.
After carefully climbing down the jagged stairs, I paused before stepping onto a stone path. The Ko house was always a magical place for me, and I stood there taking in all the beauty of a sunny almost-summer day. The gentle hum of bees was the only sound being made. There was warmth but my childhood self was too young to be bothered much by heat yet. Besides, there was a great elm just ahead that offered shade, and an arbor thick with a canopy of grape vines.
I took a few more steps and the bed of bearded iris was before me, rising almost up to my unimpressive height. I could simply lean forward and inhale their spicy perfume, and closely examine the beautiful beards of gold and yellow so brilliantly complementing hoods of purple and burgundy. It was, and remains, a fragrance idyllic and emblematic of summer – and to this day that memory can be conjured even in the unlikely setting of an indulgent shower.
It set off a ripple effect of memories – the beds of peonies, the sun-dial pedestal, a circular path bordered by hostas, and a hidden clump of mockorange unseen, but whose sweet perfume carried in the hot, humid air. Fragrance and memory can be beautifully intertwined.
Let’s not get into how emotional this simple video got me – most people know how teary-eyed I get when people sing to me. And sometimes it’s good to cry – especially when all you’ve wanted to do for the last month is cry out in rage and sorrow and the forlorn ache of fear. Let those cries melt into the soaring sounds of voices raised in unison and harmony to make the world a little less lonely.
From there, from so far away, from so long ago, how did we arrive where we are today? I don’t often dwell on such a question, because there’s no point in doing that. In fact, it’s usually detrimental to everything else going on, or trying to go on, around you. No use dwelling on the how or why, but rather on the way forward. When going through hell, keep fucking going. Isn’t that what Jesus said? Well, if he didn’t he should have, and he certainly led by example. Although maybe the Easter season isn’t the best time to be like Jesus. I mean, Jesus.
Anyway, being more aware of the present makes it easer to find a smile, no matter how long ago it was that you truly felt like smiling. Being present, inhabiting the moment, and focusing on the here and now is the best antidote to a worrisome future. We do not know what tomorrow may bring. We never know. But what good has it ever done to worry and fret about what may or may not be? Even if the worst were to happen, why waste more time being affected by it? Que sera sera; what will be will be. The world suddenly shifts into a more easygoing stance when you realize that.
With that mindset, it’s quite simple to enjoy the day a little more. So go ahead, spray your favorite perfume or cologne, even if it’s the last spritz in your favorite bottle and there’s no more being made. Breathe it in and live in that moment. Happiness is of short supply these days – take it where you can find it, and take it then and there. Don’t save that dress or jacket for a brighter day – this is that day, this may be as bright as it gets. Bask in how happy it makes you feel. Indulge in these little joys. We are afforded just so much for just so long.
And smile. Even if you’re not feeling like it, smile. Studies have shown that the mere muscle action related to it triggers a response no matter how dark or dismal the hour. It makes sense – if your body and brain are accustomed to feeling happy when you smile, why shouldn’t a smile work the same way in reverse? I’m going to try it. You should too.
I’ve never worn cologne for other people. I wear it solely for myself. Well that’s not entirely true – I did wear Calvin Klein’s ‘Eternity’ for the benefit of an ex-girlfriend who said she loved it. But after that, I wore what I liked, and to hell with anyone who didn’t appreciate it. That came to mind as I was contemplating a new cologne. My mind has been tempted by a few selections for spring, when suddenly I had a brief moment of wondering what point there would be with nowhere to wear it. This same thought has stopped me from buying new clothes of late (gasp!), but as I worked through the idea I realized I have never worn cologne for anyone other than me, and I’m still here. No reason not to smell good, especially when cooped up in the house. In fact, one could argue that now is the best time to order a new cologne! So let’s have at it. I never did get a proper Valentine’s Day gift… Here are the options, and I’m leaning toward the third one in case you’re narrowing it down:
Frederic Malle – This fragrance house is teasing me with its ‘Portrait of a Lady’ – a scent said to be favored by none other than Madonna, but unlike some of her treacly tuberose choices, this is a smoky rose that is divinity incarnate.
Don’t think about it, don’t wonder about it, don’t even tentatively plan it, just do it.
The time to be neighborly is right now.
The time is always right now.
There will never come a day when being neighborly isn’t welcome.
That may feel more difficult to accomplish now that we are all socially distancing, but perhaps this is the time to work even harder to be a good neighbor. A good universal neighbor. The internet has made everyone a neighbor to everyone else. That comes with its own demons, but for now let’s focus on the angels, and being better neighbors.
The Beekman Boys reminded me of that, so I’m going to use this post to celebrate them and all that they do. Not just for their upstate New York neighbors (Hi, Neighbor!) but for all the neighbors around the world. The earth has become one big neighborhood. Maybe that’s the best way to think about the world right now. And neighbors help each other out. That might be as simple as staying home and staying healthy for the greater good of the world. That might be sending a letter to someone you haven’t talked to in a while. It may even be something as simple as a text message checking in on one of those social butterflies you always assume is fine because they are always surrounded by friends. Even the most popular among us may be feeling a little lonely these days. Reach out to everyone you know, just in case. A friendly hello is never unwelcome.
Above all else, keep taking care of yourself. Everyone is stressed out, and it’s easy to get bogged down by the nightmare unfurling around us. Step away from the television, put the phone down, turn the laptop off, and indulge in something that makes you happy. These days that’s a long hot shower for me. An order of Aloe and Iris soaps arrived from the Beekman Boys this week, and that’s my plan for the days ahead. Coupled with some meditation, some Ella Fitzgerald, and some candlelit evenings, it’s how I get through the week.
Some desserts are pretty and sweet. They shout with their pastel beauty, proclaiming their sweetness for all the world to see. Other desserts are quiet about things, content to blend into the background and softly coo to those looking for a more subtle experience. It took me years to grow out of that sickly-sweet-loving dessert group, and there are most certainly days when nothing but a super-sweet piece of funfetti cake with a mile of frosting will do. For the rest of the time, when I need something with just a hint or dusting of sugar, I turn to a dish like babinka.
There are a bazillion variations on this Filipino dessert, and a gazillion different names, but it’s basically a sweet sticky rice that is sweetened with condensed milk and some form of sugar, then baked to meld the flavors and solidify into a gelatinous mass that manages to stay intact and chewy.
My Mom brought a bag of babinka ingredients and a recipe card when last she visited us (it feels so long ago) and I finally got around to making my first batch. She likes to enjoy a square of this for breakfast in the winter, which is indeed a good idea. I like mine as an after-lunch dessert, or a snack at any other time of the day really.
Here’s the recipe if you want something simple and plain, but sweet enough to qualify as a dessert.
Ingredients:
2 cups sweet sticky rice
4 cups water
1 can sweetened condensed milk
1 can coconut milk (solid portion only)
Brown or light brown sugar (3/4 cup packed, or to taste)
Method:
Cook the rice in the water until done (I used a rice cooker). It seemed to be a little more watery than usual, but I just added the milk and solid coconut right into the rice and stirred and it started to come together. Pour this into an 8†x 8†baking dish and sprinkle with the brown sugar, as much or as little as you like. Bake at 325 degrees for about 20 to 25 minutes. Allow to cool for at least half an hour (it will come together if allowed to sit a while). Cut and serve in squares as desired.
The wisest among us would agree that art has the power to change the present and the future, but if the artist is skilled enough, and obsessed enough, art can also change the past. Such is the revisionist magic that Michael Broderick conjures with his renderings of erotically-inclined gentlemen. With work that manages to be both nostalgic and entirely of-the-immediate-moment, referencing iconic themes of the past with a scintillating gay sensibility of the present and future, Broderick bridges what has been with what might be, infusing a history of oppression with cleverly-rewritten twists of fabulous celebration.
With a bit of influence from the palette of Maxfield Parrish, Broderick’s subjects run the gamut from aloof to regal to slightly tragic – all maintaining a mesmerizing grace. These are gods, and what is an artist’s calling other than to get us closer to the divine?
Masterfully utilizing an angular art-deco brilliance, saturated with stunning shades and bursting with dreamy color, Broderick conjures a world of fantasy and pleasure, both hedonistic and haunting. His roots in upstate New York were parched for color and flavor and verve, and as soon as he escaped our doldrums, he came into his own, creating the indelible world of which you see just the smallest glimpse here. Visit his website to see more of his magnificence, and prepare to enter the way life should have been.
ONCE I WAS A SENTIMENTAL THING
THREW MY HEART AWAY EACH SPRING;
NOW A SPRING ROMANCE HASN’T GOT A CHANCE
PROMISED MY FIRST DANCE TO WINTER;
ALL I’VE GOT TO SHOW’S A SPLINTER FOR MY LITTLE FLING!
SPRING THIS YEAR HAS GOT ME FEELING LIKE A HORSE THAT NEVER LEFT THE POST;
I LIE IN MY ROOM STARING UP AT THE CEILING
SPRING CAN REALLY HANG YOU UP THE MOST!
In this spring that feels like anything but spring, bereft of much hope, despite its relatively benign beginning, this song was shared on FaceBook by Kevin Sessums. It’s perfect for this moment in time. Ambivalence, melancholy, and a thread of worry belie all the awakening beauty of the season, not unlike the way most doomed romances awaken in a mess of mixed emotions. For early April, particularly in years like this (not that we’ve ever quite had a year like this), the voice of Ella Fitgerald is one small balm on the frazzled emotions we may be experiencing.
MORNING’S KISS WAKES TREES AND FLOWERS
AND TO THEM I’D LIKE TO DRINK A TOAST;
I WALK IN THE PARK JUST TO KILL LONELY HOURS
SPRING CAN REALLY HANG YOU UP THE MOST
ALL AFTERNOON THOSE BIRDS TWITTER TWIT
I KNOW THE TUNE, “THIS IS LOVE, THIS IS IT!”
HEARD IT BEFORE AND I KNOW THE SCORE
AND I’VE DECIDED THAT SPRING IS A BORE!
LOVE SEEMED SURE AROUND THE NEW YEAR
NOW IT’S APRIL, LOVE IS JUST A GHOST;
SPRING ARRIVED ON TIME, ONLY WHAT BECAME OF YOU, DEAR?
SPRING CAN REALLY HANG YOU UP THE MOST!
SPRING CAN REALLY HANG YOU UP THE MOST!
It was a squirrel that alerted me to the action in the front yard. Digging in the soil near the dogwood tree, the gray thing’s movements drew my notice to a pair of cardinals that cavorted beneath the dogwood’s ever-expanding branches. I saw the bright scarlet streak of the male then noticed the duller female a foot or two to his left. He reached down for a seed and brought it over to her, and for one quick moment it looked like he had kissed her on the beak. Allow me this brief moment of anthropomorphic romanticizing, because what the world needs now is love, sweet love. On a dreary, rainy Sunday morning, this simple interaction was worthy of gratitude, if only for having seen it.
It was a thrilling exchange, even if he was just offering a bit of food. I called Andy over and we watched them cavort for a bit. Andy said he thought they might be getting ready to start nesting, as their feathers were starting to change. The squirrel scurried away, his job done. When you have love in your own front yard, why mourn for not being able to go anywhere else?
How does one reconcile the spiritual world with the material world? And what’s someone supposed to do when they’ve spent the majority of their life as a proper material girl? I’ve struggled with this dilemma for far longer than it might seem, and though I’ve literally just framed it as such, it’s never been that much of a struggle. It gives me pause, and that’s always a good thing. Whatever it takes to check oneself.
While stuck at home, I signed up for a free online course that Yale University was kind enough to offer. ‘The Science of Well-Being‘ is reportedly the university’s most popular course, offering a supposed path to a greater happiness in one’s life. I’m on week two of the lessons, and they’re telling me that it’s wrong to place faith in material items bringing me happiness. Well, duh. I mean, on some fundamental level I think we all know that. It’s how most of us were raised ~ one of those trite truths that is ingrained in our heads like a nursery rhyme, something that we generally all think we know, but that course is teaching me that maybe I don’t know. Or rather that I do know, but it’s not enough to know. We can know facts to be facts, but that doesn’t mean the sensible action or reaction will result. The human mind is trickier than that. On week two, it was waking me up to the idea that we have certain expectations of what we think will make us happy, but the reality is that those items have been proven not to lead to any discernible increase in genuine happiness.
Just before the lesson wound up, I was making the argument in my head that, hey, maybe I’m one of those rare exceptions that can genuinely be made happy from a new Tom Ford Private Blend fragrance, when the professor listed that very notion on the Powerpoint and I was caught with my pants down.
Maybe there is more I can learn, and perhaps more importantly unlearn, from this course. There are a lot of lessons going on right now. And just in time.
Happy Birthday! Now you are ten years old! That’s a double-digit milestone, and an important one. This is usually the age where you will start to remember things. I know you have memories of your younger childhood, but even those are fading by the day. There is so much happening now, and it’s all happening so quickly. Maybe it’s good that we have birthdays to give us pause, to mark a day and a moment, to make a memory that lasts.
I still remember your first birthday. It had rained all morning, but it was warm – a balmy spring day that was perfect for starting two new lives. Uncle Andy picked me up from work as usual and we drove to the hospital to find the two of you – so tiny and impossibly small – wrapped tightly in little blankets. You each fit in a single arm. I loved you instantly, and that’s rare for me.
In those early days, you didn’t do much. You slept, you cried, you fussed, you drank, you slept, you pooped, you cried, you slept, you peed, you cried. And gradually you grew. Little by little the tiny infants you were turned into babies – with more recognizable human attributes. A smile, a frown, a laugh, a coo, a shriek, a cough – and a growing recognition of the world around you. What did you see when you first recognized your Uncle Al? I’m afraid to ask.
By the time you were walking, I wanted to tell you to slow down, to stop growing, to stop moving toward the future, even when that’s exactly what you should be doing. You may need to remind me of that, because there are going to be times when your Uncle is wrong. (It won’t always or often happen, but it will on occasion.)
The years flew by and there were glimmers of the people you were about to become. How slow the days must have felt to you, how long a single week stretched out in your young minds. Your impatience was a mark of childhood – you didn’t want to wait for anything and I only wanted you to wait a little longer and stay as young as possible for as long as possible. Most of us, if we’re lucky, miss our childhoods.
Our first family vacation with you was in Cape Cod, where your Dad and I spent so many vacations as kids. Lolo and Lola joined Uncle Andy and I, and we had the best time watching you play on the beach, burying your Dad in the sand up to his head, and walking to dinner as the sun went down on each perfect day. Still, time moved forward, as much as we may have wanted to pause in the summer sun.
When you were old enough, you began to stay over for longer periods of time. As unaccustomed to babysitting as I was, we managed to get along rather swimmingly. Your Uncle can be as much of a kid as the two of you, if not more childish on occasion. We knew how to have fun together. You reminded me of that, and your own wisdom taught me things I had both forgotten and never known. We could learn from each other.
We could also be silly and completely ridiculous, something I’d always wanted to be but never quite allowed myself. You brought that back into my life, and I will always love you for that. Who knows what you thought of your crazy Uncle Al for mirroring your silliness, but you never seemed to mind. Don’t ever change that.
We watched you play with Suzie’s kids, Oona and Milo – the next generation of an Ilagan-Ko alliance bravely marching forth into a new world. It tickled all of us, extending the idea of my world into our world, broadening my typically-self-centered existence into something more. You expanded and enriched our lives. Whenever you doubt yourself, think back to those days, and what I’m writing to you now, and realize that even at a young age, you were bringing happiness, and perhaps some necessary chaos, into the world.
You have my promise that I will always do my best to be a better person when I’m with you, and hopefully that will go beyond. You know me pretty well, so you know I won’t sugarcoat anything, but I will put some sparkle and pizzazz on things. I will try to bring some magic and enchantment to your world, a little dose of crazy creativity and artistic sensibility to the doldrums of school and rules and proper behavior. Above all else, I hope to remind you that it’s ok to be different – and even better than that, being different is sometimes the best thing to be. It marks you as special. It’s not always easy to step apart from the pack and do the right thing, it’s not a simple move to be good instead of popular, but these are the things that will make you into someone marvelous and magnificent. I know you have it in you. I’ve already seen it in action.
Emi and Noah – you give me hope. I know the world sometimes feels scary, and there may come a time when you wonder how things turned so dark just when you were coming into your own, but that’s good. It will be up to you to make things better, and if you keep your hearts and your sense of kindness and fairness and goodness, you will help lead the rest of us into that better place.
Have a wonderful 10th birthday. For the past decade you have lit up our lives. I can’t wait to see where the next decade takes us. And always remember, your Uncle Al loves you.
‘On these magic shores children at play are for ever beaching their coracles. We too have been there; we can still hear the sound of the surf, though we shall land no more.’ –J.M. Barrie
For those who are still working from home (as we all should be as much as possible) it may be hard to differentiate the weekdays from the weekends, but it’s important not to lose sight of time that way. Get up, take a shower, and above all get into something better than that ripped cartoon t-shirt and rumpled boxers shorts. I see you. And I don’t want to see you like that. On with a recap that will hopefully provide some escapism rooted in our grim reality. Come fly with me!
