Author Archives: Alan Ilagan

Bear Grylls supplies the heat for this frigid Monday morning awfulness (and scroll through it all for some shirtless Zac Efron too). We are one month done with winter – about one-third of the way through the terrible season, and floating along in a mode of survival and not much else. Hunkering down, I lower my head against the wind, and offer you this weekly recap in the hopes that another winter week passes quickly and uneventfully. Stay warm, friends.

When a lightbulb goes off.

Staying calm amid the chaos.

The right track, baby.

Afterglow in Boston.

Flowers in winter.

The first snowfall of 2024.

Butt first, crack.

Glowing review of Madonna’s Celebration Tour as it hit Boston.

Tree of perspective.

Strange counter-fellows.

Aaron Taylor-Johnson walked so Jeremy Allen White could run – both in their CK underwear.

Hygge happening here.

Oscar Wilde is almost always accurate.

Even more Jeremy Allen White bulging in his underwear.

An old acquaintance, not forgot.

There is always a cup of iced coffee in this space.

The day the curtains came down.

A birthday post for my Mom.

I swear, I did not say this at work. Yet.

Winter’s steady tumult.

Practicing this makes for peace.

Light in a winter night.

It’s so not funny it’s funny.

Tea & sympathy.

Missing summer in a very naked way.

Dazzlers of the Day included such luminaries as Jonathan Bailey, Noah J. Ricketts, Paul Giamatti, Steven Romo, Sam Cushing, Bear Grylls and Ayo Edebiri.

“All you’re supposed to do is once in a while give the boys a little tea…” ~ Tea & Sympathy

Let us have this winter then, as if there was any other way to get around it other than going through it. Let us have our cups of steeped and steaming tea, anything to warm ourselves from the inside out. And let us have our lights, seeing us through the darkest nights. There are cold ones yet to come, but each will be a little shorter than the last, until finally the signs of spring will be upon us again. 

First, though, winter. 

Winter and an old film, based on an old play. 

“Manliness is not all swagger and mountain climbing. It’s also tenderness.” ~ Tea & Sympathy

Last night I watched ‘Tea & Sympathy’ for the first time, a cup of Earl Grey keeping me company, and the glow of a few candles lightly warming the air. It was the sort of Saturday night I’d been yearning for since I was a boy, believe it or not, and most will not. Despite the madness that has surrounded so many of my formative years – a madness I admittedly courted more often than not – all I ever really wanted was calm and comfort and peace. I just took a long and tumultuous path to get here. Being different can make for such difficult roads.

“Years from now when you talk about this – and you will – be kind.” ~ Tea & Sympathy 

Our little attic loft room provides a cozy respite from winter, and an ideal nook in which to read and pass a quiet evening. Andy found a room heater that works wonders, but on days where we try to conserve energy, when the cold from outside hasn’t entirely permeated the space, I find that a few candles lit throughout the day manage to keep things toasty enough. 

They also provide a warm glow that is easier on the eyes and countenance than all of the modern LED coolness. Outside the lone window of the space, I can spy snow nestled in the boughs of an old pine tree, and below in the yard there are the remnants of a summer not-quite-well-spent. There are seeds to next summer planted there as well, seeds of hope buried beneath the snow, waiting only for the right combination of light and warmth to ignite their new season. 

Winter was always the sad season, and as much as I have tried to learn to embrace it, it remains the season of somber sobriety. I’m not minding that as much this year. Finding the way to an acceptance of it is an important part of looking over the edge of middle age. If one’s life is divided into seasonal sections, mine is about to surrender summer to fall.

That is the only certain precursor to winter.

And so I hunker down, getting busy with the emotional tasks at hand, while outside the snow and wind rages, interspersed with brilliant bits of blue sky and white sun. Shadows elongate, yet so too does the daylight, growing a little longer with each passing week. Without hurry or rush, the days and weeks unfold as they will. With a deep breath, and a patient, measured exhalation, I lean into winter.  

Some people get a little sad when taking down the holiday decor they’ve amassed and assembled in the spirit of the season. By this point in the year, I’m grateful and welcoming of the fresh start and clean slate that instantly presents itself upon removing all the Christmas decorations. In our Boston place, that means taking down this wall of curtains that served to make things a little more cozy during our holiday gatherings. 

These colorful dividers created a little nook of a space between the living room and bedroom, right near the wooden, gas-lamp-bracketed wet bar and mirror, harkening to some lifetime and era long before my own. It lended an intimacy to the high-ceilings, and provided a little escapade for guests who wanted a quiet moment in semi-privacy. Such secrecy seems ideal for hushed holidays, but my mind is on spring, and as we approach that I want to open things back up again. 

Do ignore my random blue sneaker. Real life has a way of sneaking into the most fantastical moments of imagination and whimsy.