When I woke this morning, the grey sky was sheeting rain and I could hear it pound on the roof. It was a somber morning, reflecting my mood.
Yesterday, as I was about to go into a meeting with the Associate Dean at the college where I begin to teach on Wednesday, I listened to a voice mail on my mobile. It was Andrew, the son-in-law of my good friend Paul Krich.
As soon as I got the message I knew what would be waiting for me when I returned it. Paul, who had been fighting a stoic battle against cancer, had succumbed.
It was news that stunned me almost more than I could handle.
Years ago, when my now ex-partner and I first had the cottage, we quickly developed a routine. My schedule was more flexible than his; I took the 5:35 out of Penn, went to the house, turned up the heat, laid a fire and then went down to meet the train that left Penn at 7:15.
There was a crowd always at the station, many, like me, waiting for significant others to get off. Almost always in the crowd was an elegant man with what white hair he had, carefully shorn, always dressed elegantly. I noticed he met an equally elegant woman who invariably got off the train with bags of food.
It became our custom to go to the Red Dot for dinner. The other couple did too.
The man and I began to nod to each other while waiting on the platform and then, one night, the elegant woman had too many bags and my ex helped her with them as she was getting off the train.
Not more than fifteen minutes later we were at adjoining tables at the Red Dot. Laughing, I said we really should introduce ourselves and we did. It was Paul.
We pulled our tables together and had a lovely evening that became the first of many.
My partner and I split. Not long after Paul and Lorraine separated.
There came a time in the summer after Paul and Lorraine had separated when Paul and I found ourselves at the Dot, seated at the bar, eating dinner. The second time it happened, we left the bar and got a table, starting a tradition of Saturday evening “dates.”
Paul was one of the most amazing men I have ever met. An avid gardener, he knew so much about horticulture, Whenever we were walking he would point out to me plants and tell me their lineage.
He adored and collected botanical prints. He appreciated antiques and taught me about tramp art. To go with him to an antique show or an auction was to be both entertained and educated.
He savored the fine things of life with palpable pleasure.
He rode a Harley – Davidson and wore biker jewelry.
Once he told me he loved to come to the parties at my cottage because I always had such an interesting mix of people at them. And they were an interesting mix, artists and neighbors, filmmakers, real estate agents and restaurant owners, retired state patrol officers and a former lineman for the local electric company. Young and old, gay and straight, all fun and all welcoming of each other…
Paul was inclusive. He had long ago shed the middle class fears and snobberies that flowed through our world as we were growing up. He embraced people of color, the gay men and women who moved in his orbit, the musicians and the dancers and the artists.
He constantly praised my blogging, encouraging me to keep on at a moment when I was thinking of wrapping it up.
He worked at being fair to everyone, to treating them equally. He had a ready laugh and a constant, wonderful twinkle in his eye.
He was the man you counted upon. Everyone who knew him, knew he could be counted upon, to work to his best to be his best. He was a human being, not flawless, none of us are, but he worked hard at his humanity and inspired me.
He invited me to his mother’s 100th birthday party, not a large party but one dominated by warmth and caring, for Millie, his mother, and for him. I will always look back with warmth at the softly lit room and see Paul sitting at the head of the table smiling, his eyes laughing.
The world is diminished with his passing. I have felt bereft since I heard the news. As I was driving into Hudson today for errands, I realized it seemed impossible to me we would not ever again sit in the garden of the Dot, the fountain splashing, chatting about our weeks and our lives.
I cannot imagine a world without Paul but that world now exists and I will have to learn how to cope with it.
Letter From New York 01 14 16 Oscars, reunions and bombs…
January 14, 2016The sun has set and I’m freshly home from a haircut which means I’m a little itchy around the neck. A fire burns in the stove and jazz plays in the background. Lights illuminate the creek and I have made myself a martini to sip while writing. I spent three hours today volunteering for Habitat for Humanity of Columbia County, helping clean up their database.
The stock market didn’t swoon again today, which is good news for almost everyone I know. It was up 1.41% after falling 2+% yesterday. I was at the gym yesterday on the treadmill, watching CNN. They were tracking the market by the minute, which was too depressing to watch while on the treadmill. So I watched an ancient Kay Francis film on TCM.
It was great to escape into a world where you knew it would all come out right in the end.
Which is what we don’t know about the life we’re living now. It could go in any direction and we have no way of knowing what that direction might be.
And that, my friends, is why I treasure evenings like this at the cottage. For a moment, the world seems on hold, even as I am assimilating events from the day.
In Jakarta, IS claims responsibility for multiple explosions in the capital. At least seven are dead and there is concern that Indonesia, the world’s most populous Muslim State, which has a secular government, is going to be under fresh attack after several years of calm.
In brighter news, at least three people can claim a piece of the $1.5 billion Powerball jackpot though others may surface.
And today the Oscar nominees were announced. “Revenant” with Leonardo di Caprio leads the pack with twelve nominations. Also up there is “Mad Max: Fury Road.” Not long ago an industry insider wondered why they were even mounting a campaign. Today provided the reason why.
Alan Rickman passed away today. He played Professor Snape in the Harry Potter films. I saw him live in a relatively obscure Ibsen play, “John Gabriel Borkman” at BAM five years ago and he was electrifying. His characters were mostly cold and sinister, very different from the man portrayed in the memorials today.
As I type there is another Republican debate beginning. Politics is becoming reality TV in more ways than just having The Donald dancing on the scene. Whose idea was it to have all these debates so far in advance of the election? I want it over already! Really! What did my students used to say? Gag me with a spoon?
There are two iconic television series I have never seen a complete episode of, much to the amazement of my friends. One of them is “Seinfeld” and the other is “Friends.” There will be a sort of reunion of the “Friends” cast in the February tribute to James Burrows who created the program. Matthew Perry may or may not be there as he will be in London for rehearsals of a play.
My martini is finished. The fire is playful. The jazz is beautiful. I am going to sign off and watch the newest episode of “Sherlock” and then head off to bed. Have to be up early in the morning for phone calls and meetings.
It’s been a lovely day. Hope yours was too.
Tags:Alan Rickman, BAM, Benedict Cumberbatch, Claverack, CNN, Friends, IS, Jakarta bombings, Kay Francis, Leonardo di Caprio, Mad Max, Mat Tombers, Mathew Tombers, Obama, Revenant, Seinfeld, Sherlock, Snape, The Donald
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