Letter From New York November 23, 2014

November 23, 2014

It is morning in Claverack; the sun sifts through a pearl grey sky. A slight wind disturbs the few leaves left on the tree. All is quiet.

The morning’s first cup of coffee tastes delectable, good, strong Nicaraguan.

It is Sunday morning and I have my Sunday morning rituals to complete – strong coffee followed by a perusal of the New York Times on my iPad or iPhone complete with a careful reading of the Weddings sections. It was called for a long time “Weddings and Celebrations” to accommodate gay couples who couldn’t marry but honored their commitment to a partner through a public celebration. Now that gays can marry in New York I have noticed that it has gone back to just being “Weddings.”

I will sort through my emails and perhaps even go to Church today; I am one of those in the country who considers themselves “spiritual but not religious” even though I occasionally miss the fellowship of church and go down to Christ Church Episcopal for the experience of the ritual without the guilt I associate with my Catholic Church of origin.

Like many, I have felt friendlier toward it under the current Pope but am still not quite comfortable there. God and I wrestle with that a bit.

I work to pray everyday. I am a lucky man; my life is magical compared with a huge percentage of the world. Reading the news, I am aware I am lucky not to be living in a war zone, an Ebola zone, any “zone” at all – I live in a little island of calm in the country where looking out I see trees and land and my creek and if I hear a distant gunshot, it is not war but men hunting deer.

So everyday I try to remember to offer a thought of gratitude to God for the luck of my life, to have been born in America, never been called to war, to have had an interesting career, to find my life surrounded by friends and relatives – a reality brought home by the good wishes that surrounded my birthday.

Ah, the sun has come out and flickers golden off the fallen leaves. It has been chill; perhaps the day will be warmer than the last few that have called for fires and nestling with comforters. These pre-Thanksgiving days are predicted to be rather gentle of the season.

The trains coming north out of New York City were packed on Friday, I was told, full of people beginning their Thanksgiving Holiday, crowding the train with bodies and luggage.

The Holiday Season began a week ago with the celebration of my birthday and I am going to carry that celebration spirit through until the New Year has come and gone. It feels like a year to celebrate the golden goodness of the time I am having.

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Letter From New York November 22, 2014

November 23, 2014

It is Saturday night and I am just back from a dinner party. Old, good friends were there and much of me relished being there.

It’s an interesting night. I’ve had a few glasses of wine and yet I am focused.

My inbox is being inundated with new messages from the Democrats – its become grim out there now that Obama has declared he will use an Executive Order to reform Immigration. Republicans seem to be declaring war. According to the emails I am receiving there is talk of impeachment and prison for Obama.

Yikes! Really?

The Emancipation Proclamation was an Executive Order!

I’m tired of it. As I think are most Americans – tired of the partisanship and rhetoric and stupidity. I am tired of the gridlock. I am tired of the whole thing.

Here I sit in my lovely cottage, seemingly safely away from all the silliness. But I’m not, really. None of us are, if we live in an engaged America. But so few of us do. 36% of eligible voters actually voted in the last election.

That’s pitiable. PITIABLE.

36%. Really!

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Letter From New York November 21, 2014

November 21, 2014

It is growing dark out; light is fading across the Hudson Valley, a pinkish glow emanates from the west. What’s the old adage? Red sky at night, sailor’s delight.

I am expecting a good day tomorrow then, based on the color of tonight’s sunset.

All day I have curled up in the cottage, snuggled against the cold outside, not Minnesota cold but chill enough. And certainly we’ve had none of the roof breaking snow that has buried Buffalo. It is relatively mild here compared with those places but still, a good day to stay huddled by the fire, doing conference calls and writing thank you notes for gifts from my spectacular birthday.

I have been assimilating the richness of my birthday for the last couple of days. Our train gang gathered to celebrate my birthday with a wonderful party at my house where there was a the great, good camaraderie that is the keynote for that group.

My brother and sister-in-law flew in from Minnesota to celebrate with me; we went to Radio City Music Hall for the Christmas Spectacular, which was both spectacular and a hoot! It was everything I had been told it would be – Rockettes kicking and dancing, a 3D film clip, Santa Claus, and adventure to the North Pole, a Nativity scene with live sheep and camels. Everything Christmas except the Grinch!

A long day was spent at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, where I, at long last, renewed my membership before touring the magnificent “From Assyria to Iberia” exhibit, linking the ancient art of the Middle East with its spread across the Great Sea to Iberia. It was breathtaking.

Moving on, we had a grand dinner at Café du Soleil with our friends Nick and Lisa. On Tuesday, my actual birthday, we went to visit the Main Library at 42nd Street and then dined at the Oyster Bar at Grand Central where I indulged in my favorite, their clam chowder soup, followed by a lemon sole, followed by a Frangelico in the bar of the Hotel Roosevelt.

Perfect.

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CBS Unveils Big Digital Initiatives With Sony, News, And Possibly Showtime

November 6, 2014

CBS moves aggressively to be a digital player. Will it be able to succeed?

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Letter From New York October 2, 2014

October 2, 2014

Or, as it seems to me…

As I write this, a doe and her fawn are scouring my drive for acorns – at least that’s what I am guessing they’re looking for, noses to the ground. And if that’s is what they’re looking for, I have a surfeit. I can hear them bombing the roof night and day right now.

It’s a great, pastoral fall scene. Yesterday was the beginning of deer hunting season – or so an eager fellow passenger told me on the 2:20 up from New York. He was waiting for it to get a bit cooler before he went off hunting. It didn’t feel quite right to be deer hunting when the weather was about 70.

So about this time of year I notice the number of deer crossing my land gets to be a bit higher. Somehow they know I don’t let folks hunt here.

The land is filling with leaves as they slowly, majestically drop and my little bit of woodlands is looking very fall like. Pumpkins now sit on my door stoop, a visual nod to the season.

While I am not technically in New England, I’ve always believed New England went as far as the east bank of the Hudson River. From there on, it’s the west. So I’ve always considered Columbia County where I live spiritually part of New England even if it’s not really.

Here in Columbia County, Halloween is a BIG deal. There are almost as many Halloween decorations as there are Christmas ones. So it was no surprise to me, when I went to Lowe’s today, to discover the store full of artificial pumpkins inside, real pumpkins outside, full size hanging skeletons, a twelve foot inflatable goblin and any number of things that glowed in the dark.

What I was dismayed about was that not only was Halloween being pimped but so was Christmas! The artificial Christmas trees are out. The light-up decorations are lit up and on display. I could even have a golden, blinking Eiffel Tower to grace my lawn.

My jaw literally dropped when I saw this Holiday display. It appeared they were just getting into it into place – I suspect they started yesterday, the first of October! A whole quarter of Holiday Hysteria awaits. There will be, I am sure, Christmas Carols piped into stores before we have cleared away the pumpkins!

It is unseemly. This is the season for ghosts and goblins, pumpkins and skeletons! NOT the season yet for HO HO HO. Halloween, yes! But Christmas in October? Bah! Humbug!

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Letter From New York

September 29, 2014

Or, as it seems to me…

It is Sunday afternoon as I begin to write this; the day is impeccable: mid – 70’s for a temperature, cloudless blue skies and a soft wind blowing through the changing leaves. Fall has arrived; there is no going back and next week I’m sure one of the major tasks will be to blow the drive clear of fallen leaves. But today is perfect. In the background, soft jazz plays on Pandora while in the kitchen I am slow cooking appetizers for a neighborhood party later today.

I am a world away from everything here. While sun sparkles off my creek, the world beyond me implodes. While soft jazz plays, more are dying of Ebola.   While my appetizers simmer, refugees go hungry. I am constantly, continually baffled by the contrasts in the world. And while I am baffled, I realize I live in a world of contrasts and that it has always been a world of contrasts.

Outside my window, my local groundhog happily nibbles on the fallen acorns, a lovely moment in my afternoon, watching him. Two days ago when I went out to the car, a family of deer was in my drive, watching me with idle curiosity before they sauntered off into the woods.

It is bucolic here. There are woodland creatures that remind me of the rhythm of nature; there is an expanse of trees, leaves turning yellow and crimson, reminding me of the same. The seasons are changing, time is moving on. The natural progression of things is happening.

In a few weeks, I face another birthday. It’s another mark of progression. I am getting older. We all are.

Now, as I write this, the sun is setting in the west. Twilight grey is spreading across the cottage and its bit of land. Another day is moving away from me.

Last night, sitting in my living room after a lovely dinner at the Red Dot with my friends Lionel and Pierre and Lionel’s sister, brother-in-law and nephew, I found myself ruminating about life and aging.

Not unsurprisingly, I am feeling the winds of time. I am older than I have ever been. Stories come to me of my contemporaries leaving us, too soon, too much before what I feel should be their time. Yet it is happening. Nothing is secure and nothing is sacred – everything, including us, is susceptible to the churning of the clock and the vagaries of the universe. Suddenly, one day, health deserts us and we lay vulnerable when perhaps just the day before we felt invulnerable.

A contemporary of mine travels more than anyone I know and he has begun to wonder if when he locks the door of his hotel room at night it might not be his last night. These are thoughts he had never had had before, thoughts that come to us unbidden now that age creeps up on us and becomes part of our reality.

So last night I was thinking of several friends who have been wonderful friends over the years and I wanted to reach out to them to say: I am grateful you have been part of my life. However, I hesitate. What would they think? Would they appreciate it or would it disturb them in some unanticipated way?

A long time ago I made a promise to do my best to not let go unexpressed the care I had for another. For the most part, I think I have done that. But there are those I only see once in a great while you have been so much of my life and have I said enough to them that they know how much they mean to me?

It is a challenge for me to consider in the next weeks. I am fine today but we are, as I have said, susceptible to the vagaries of the universe. Perhaps we should all remember that as we move from day to day. If we reminded one another of how much we cared, perhaps the violence quotient would go down?

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Letter From New York September 26, 2014

September 27, 2014

Or, as it seems to me…

The whole of the Hudson Valley is enveloped in grey, with rain occasionally splottering down on me – though so far the torrential rains promised for this afternoon have yet to appear.

Earlier this week I read a NY Times column by Roger Cohen reminding us that things aren’t as bad as they seem. He was fairly upbeat: he dismissed ISIS as a bunch of thugs in trucks and Putin as a thug running a failing regime. New York is a better place than it has been, perhaps ever. And that is true, he says of a lot of American cities – they are better than they ever were! Hey, even Detroit is beginning something of a comeback.

His article buoyed me through a couple of days, into today, when the grey kind of “got to me” and I began to fret about the world in which I live. The boys of ISIS may just be thugs in trucks but they are killing by the thousands and causing people to become refugees in the hundreds of thousands. They are, unfortunately, effective thugs. Putin may be a thug at the head of a failing regime but failing though it may be, he can still stir up trouble of all kinds.

New York is probably better than it has ever been while it is more unaffordable than it has ever been. Manhattan seems to becoming an island of only the rich. Certainly seems to be the case in Midtown, where Billionaire’s Row is rising.

Yet I cannot bring myself to completely despair – not quite in my nature. But there are plenty of reasons to be concerned, even as some hopeful signs bloom. One of the American auto companies is adding 1200 employees to one of its plants to keep up with demand. That is a good sign. So is that new homes sales reached their highest point since 2008.

Winston Churchill is supposed to have said: You can always count on the Americans to do the right thing – after they have tried everything else.

The question we face is what is the right thing to do, particularly in the Mideast. The warriors of ISIS are thugs and that’s part of the attraction they offer their followers, the opportunity for uneducated young men to practice sanctioned thuggery. Their wild brand of Sunni extremism seems to be an outgrowth of Saudi religious extremism. Which apparently is causing the Saudi King some concern; he has brought his Kingdom into the fray, his Air Force flying sorties against ISIS.

It is a bit of a diplomatic coup that Obama has managed to put together any kind of coalition to fight ISIS, especially one that includes other Sunnis. [While I am beginning to recognize the differences I can’t tell you what theological dispute resulted in this devolution to thuggery.] I am sure I will learn more as it is impossible to follow world news without also learning more about the nuances of Islam, as multi-layered and confusing, it seems, as is Christianity.

The fear I have is that we are living on the cusp of an Islamic Reformation. Some scholars say we are long overdue for a Reformation within Islam. That does not cause sanguinity within me; look what happened during the Christian Reformation. Wars and pestilence ravaged the land while Christians killed each other because they disagreed with how others worshipped Christ. It was all very unchristian.

And I fear that is what might be happening in Islam. You don’t worship Allah the way I worship Allah and so therefore you are damned and deserve to die. You are heretic. Ah, harkens to that wonderful time known as the Inquisition. Christians refined torture to a delightful degree, practicing it on other Christians.

The easy thing to say is that religion, of any kind, is the root of all evil. But perhaps within religion answers can be found and perhaps Islam can learn from the mistakes of their Christian brothers.

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Letter From New York September 16, 2014

September 16, 2014

Or, as it seems to me…

As I begin to write this, it is a quiet night. I am sitting in the kitchen of my friends Dawn and Gail’s home in Provincetown, Massachusetts. They are out with friends and I am sitting putting together my thoughts about the past week.

It was another anniversary of 9/11, the 13th. There was for me a certain symmetry to this one. On September 10th, 2001 I spent the evening with Jon Alpert, the visionary filmmaker, at a screening of a film he had done about the election in New York that was about to happen, Mark Green versus the billionaire Mike Bloomberg.

An early review of the film said that it would topple Bloomberg’s chances of winning the election. Mike Bloomberg came across as arrogant, privileged, ill-mannered, capricious and not a good candidate for Mayor. But then 9/11 happened and the world changed and a billionaire businessman seemed the best person to take over a city that was reeling from a great catastrophe. And, it turned out, he wasn’t a bad mayor. He may have been capricious, ill-mannered, arrogant and privileged but he brought the city back from the brink and carried it through the dark days of 2001 and 2002 when the city was so wounded it didn’t understand how it would survive its pain.

So on September 10th, 2014, on the eve of the 13th anniversary of 9/11 I found myself back in the company of Jon Alpert. He and I had dinner with our mutual friend Diana Sperazza, currently an Executive Producer for Investigation Discovery. Before that, she had been at Discovery Times Network and had been the EP on a project we had done ten years ago, OFF TO WAR.

We laughed and reminisced and talked about 9/11, 2001. Diana had been living in Washington. I had been in New York. Jon had been in New York, too. Filmmaker that he is, he grabbed a camera and headed towards the catastrophe and caught poignant images of that day. He had marched from his organization’s headquarters in the oldest firehouse in New York, mere blocks from Ground Zero and managed to get past the barricades. His footage ended up in an HBO special.

The weather has been eerily like that surrounding 9/11. Beautiful, sun kissed days. All summer I have thought about how like that time this summer has been and have had an uneasy feeling. 9/11 in New York was the most beautiful day and we have had the most beautiful summer. Some part of me has lived in fear that some terrible event would befall us this beautiful summer.

We made it through. There was no repeat of 9/11. No mass terrorist event.

But we now live in a world that is the child of that day. Since then, we have invaded Afghanistan and Iraq and made a bloody mess of them. ISIS has just killed yet another Western hostage. The Caliphate rises; Arab states want to stop them but are tepid in their support of our desire to stop them. Various terrorist groups now seem to be starting to cooperate, lending their “expertise” to each other. Beheadings are becoming a trend. Egyptian terrorists have started using the gruesome practice in hopes of getting as much attention as ISIS or ISIL or IS, whatever they are being called.

The world feels like a more dangerous place these days. Our outrage against beheadings doesn’t stop them. Sanctions haven’t tempered Mr. Putin’s expansionist tendencies. And our response to Ebola has been slow and strangely muted.

A strange exhaustion has fallen upon us. Everyone seems tired on all sides of the political equation. Boehner seems reading a script as opposed to acting from conviction. One pundit described Obama as a bird in gilded cage, waiting to be let out. Like many Presidents, the office is aging him rapidly.

So we go on, living our lives as best we can while the world seems whirling out of control. Here at home our infrastructure is decaying as we fight wars to keep the barbarians from the gates.

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Letter From New York September 7, 2014

September 8, 2014

Or, as it seems to me…

Far away, there is the sound of a chain saw cutting wood. Its buzz is the only artificial noise in my world. There is a soft breeze rustling the leaves in the woods, blowing lightly through the opened windows. When I awoke this morning, I went outside to test the mettle of the day and it was perfect – there was a light feel of fall in the air, a feel that has lingered through the day. It has been exquisite, a sweet Sunday in the country.

Down in the city, Joan Rivers was set to rest. Back in the day, I met her once, after a performance at the old Carlos and Charlie’s on Sunset Blvd. She wanted to personally thank me for a favor I had done her when I ran the West Coast office for A&E – I got her copies of a program that she wanted to watch. She was diminutive and gracious and shy and very different from the raucous person on stage. May she rest in peace.

It is yet another day when I am struck by the beauty of my life in the country, its peacefulness as contrast to the troubled world outside my little circle. The staccato of violence goes on in the Mid-East. There are terrible floods in Kashmir and storms are supposed to be moving from the American mid-west towards my lovely little circle. So I am celebrating the day I have.

Friday and Saturday, I attended the wedding of Todd Broder to Dana Pauley. I’ve known Todd for a dozen years or so, since he was almost fresh out of college and was represented by Jim Arnoff, another friend. He has grown in the years and is now a sought after producer/director. Along the way I introduced him to my godson, Paul, and the two became fast friends.

So attending Todd’s wedding was made even more celebratory in that I got a chance to spend time with he and his wife, Robyn. Standing in a courtyard, late the night of the wedding, I looked at him and realized I had a special history with him, for which I am very grateful. We had a circuitous route to becoming close but we have and I am so proud of him. He had Robyn have two beautiful children and a relationship I admire. I am so very grateful he has allowed me to have a place in his life.

Todd’s wedding was very special. He produced it well. A friend of theirs was ordained for the day to marry them, a shaman of the Internet. He was funny and wise, reverent and irreverent. He will not be quickly forgotten. He and his mother “tore up the rug” dancing.

The other great thing was that it was a concrete counterpoint to all the things in the world that are so dark and which cause us to despair. In the midst of all of this, we continue to marry and celebrate. We have deep relationships with other people that are anchors in our lives. Our friendships abide.

All these things stand as lights in the world, against the darkness that seems encroaching. Celebration helps push away despair.

So I will now go celebrate this day by taking a walk through the circle, holding to me the joys of a perfect day which follows two lovely days of being in the presence of friends and loved ones.

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Letter From New York September 3, 2014

September 3, 2014

Or, as it seems to me…

The sun is playing hide and seek with the clouds; it is warm but not hot, only slightly humid. Sighing, I am noticing that more leaves outside my window where I write are turning yellow while the soft breeze blows through the branches.

Outside my living room and dining room windows, a tree is being taken down; struck last year by lightening; it has given up the fight. Dying, it needs to be removed lest it fall upon the cottage. I am sorry to see it go; it was a good, strong tree that provided shade to the deck. It was sturdy; it had its place in my life and then, literally, lightening struck and it now is going. It will change my view of the creek; its departure will change my life a little.

But that is what they say life is about: changes. So I have to embrace the change. I am doing a lot of that lately, with having moved on from Odyssey. Appointments in the city moved from this week to next and I find myself with a week at the cottage, an unexpected delight – and a challenge. Now that I do not need to go into town everyday, I am discovering how to discipline myself so I don’t go completely to seed here at the cottage.

The day begins, as it always does, with a perusal of the news from the NY Times, assimilating what has happened overnight. Today there may or may not be a ceasefire in the Ukraine but the possibility of one is a hopeful sign.  

The world is continuing to grapple with the death of American Steven Sotloff, gruesomely beheaded by ISIS [or IS or ISIL, depending on which source you’re reading or who is being quoted].

And, in another sign of change, the New York St. Patrick’s Day Parade, will now allow gay groups to march in it. Come next March 17th you can be out and proud and Irish all in the same parade.

Not all change is bad; much of it, in fact, is good if we allow room for it in our lives. That old adage: nothing stays the same is true. Recently, I cleaned out a box of old pictures and nothing reminds you of the time going by then photos of yourself from a different time and life.

I consigned them to the dustbin of history and sent them to be recycled. I am more concerned about now than then. I have carved out a good life for myself here at the cottage and down in the city. I am embracing it. I smile to myself at times; it is a time to cherish, watching the light splatter on my drive, the little fountain in the center of the circular drive gurgling. I have good friends, good neighbors, and good things happening – all the while the world is changing about me.

Carpe diem, said the Romans. Seize the day! And so I am seizing the day and moving on with it, nurtured by the sight of leaves turning in one more cycle of life.

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