Posts Tagged ‘Hudson’

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Letter From New York 02 20 2016 Thoughts on a Saturday night…

February 21, 2016

It’s a wild Saturday night here in Claverack.  The creek is illuminated with floodlights.  I am having one of the first martinis since I got out of the hospital, now almost two weeks ago.  My body is working very hard to be normal; I am not as tired as I was and while there are still some tests to be done I think Dr. Paolino was right:  I was sick and now I am better.

On Pandora is Hipster Cocktail Music, a channel I added by accident but thought I would try out.  What I am discovering is I’m not a hipster.  Probably time to change to another channel soon.  An interesting experiment.

Life is an interesting experiment.  Cooking certainly is.  I have been cooking for the last three hours, prepping dishes for an off the train, train party.  Those of you who know me, know that our train community is tight knit and we party off and on the train.  Tomorrow, Loretta, who is one of the conductors is throwing a party that will include her family and friends, which includes those of us from the train. 

In the slow cooker, I have BBQ ribs cooking and I have in the oven something I have never attempted before, a casserole.  Never in my long life have I cooked one so I thought I would attempt one.  This one is ham and rice and vegetables and who knows whether it will work out or not.

All of these have been diversions from the real world.   Or what we think of as  “the real world.”  Hillary has narrowly won Nevada, which she needed to do and Trump, God Help Us, has won South Carolina.  He is now in for the long haul.

Trump may very well win the Republican nomination.  I suspect it will be as catastrophic as Goldwater was in 1964 but in this campaign, all bets are off.  Everyone I know is, as the Brits would say, “gob smacked.” I know I am.  Like many others I thought Trump would burn out by end of summer but here he is, stronger than ever.

Spring is on us.  [It was 63 degrees here in Claverack today.  No need for the winter coat I wore when I left the house.  People were in shorts.] And Trump is with us more than he ever was.

Look, it’s Saturday night and people are out celebrating whatever they do on Saturday night while I am tucked away in the cottage writing and thinking about world events.

And while I am sitting here, still listening to Hipster Cocktail Music, I noticed that the last survivor of Treblinka, a Nazi concentration camp, has died.  His name was Samuel Willenberg, a man who said he survived “by chance.”  They are leaving us, the witnesses to that incredible, horrible time that was World War II.  The unspeakable horrors of that time are being resurrected in these days, with IS and its atrocities. 

While they boggle our mind, they continue.  There is no World War to stop them.  All is fractious politics in the Mideast. 

It is sweet to be here in the cottage, my dining room table a mess of papers from my teaching, the lights illuminating the creek, music on Pandora, the hum of my dishwasher in the background, plans to redo my bathroom. 

All the lucky things I enjoy because of the moment in time and place in which I was born, coupled with the luckiness that my life provided me.  When I wake in the morning, I work to take time to say my mantra:  thank you for this day in which I find myself, thank you for the resources to live through this day and thank you for the luck that has brought me to this place, cozied in my cottage, surrounded by friends and living a magical life.

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Posted in 2016 Election, Claverack, Columbia County, Entertainment, European Refugee Crisis, Greene County New York, Hollywood, Hudson New York, Mathew Tombers, Media, Mideast, Nazis, Obama, Political Commentary, Social Commentary, Syria, Trump, Uncategorized, World War II | Leave a Comment »

Letter From New York 02 13 16 Intimations of mortality…

February 14, 2016

It is Saturday night and I am at the cottage.  I have just lit a fire and have finished prepping for tomorrow; I am doing the coffee hour after the 10:30 service.  Since it is Valentine’s Day I wanted to do something a little special.  I think I have, once again, succumbed to my mother’s philosophy: too much is never enough. 

Oh well, hopefully it will be fun and it is the first real thing I have done since being in the hospital.  My primary care physician, Dr. Paolino, summed it up:  You were sick and now you’re better.  You still have to see your gastroenterologist but you are on the mend.

And I am, though I am still sleeping a lot and being very careful about what I eat.  My body is working to be normal and I’m grateful.  Amazing things these human bodies, they often heal themselves, sometimes with help but they are wondrous.

My brother is now in Honduras, where he goes at least once a year to provide medical care to the back of beyond, to places who only have medical care when teams like his arrive.  I’m terribly proud of him.  When he is there, I am concerned as Honduras has devolved into one of the most violent places in the hemisphere but every year he goes back, as he has for almost forty years now.

Lionel let me know that Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia passed away.  I have mixed feelings about it as he spewed some hateful things these last years, particularly about gay rights and marriage equality.  About six months ago, I read a speech he gave and was appalled at the intolerance, actually shocked.  It seemed so bitter and unforgiving.

Still, may he rest in peace.  As may we all rest in peace when our time comes.

Being ill and in the hospital, summoned intimations of my mortality, heightened by my old good friend, Tim Sparke, diagnosed some three or four years ago with a brain tumor, who is now in hospice, the cancer having spread through his body.  He wrote me and told me he was now serene, something that I have heard comes to people in their last days if they are given the grace to know they are living their last days.

He is younger than me by a decade I think.  Life plays itself out for each of us in its own cadence and only the universe understands it.

The Russian Premier, Medvedev, has declared we have slid into a new “cold war.” Yes, I suppose we have.  I’m not sure quite how it happened but it’s been years in the making and lies, I think, largely in Putin’s lap as it serves him to prop up his power in Russia.  They’re suffering from the collapse of oil prices probably as much or more than anyone with the possible exception of Venezuela.

Months ago, I read something about a dam in Iraq.  It wasn’t being maintained and threatened a half million people with catastrophe.  It’s back in the news and it is in bad shape.  An Italian firm has been hired to repair it and, hopefully, repairs will happen in time or a half million people may drown.  Think Katrina, exponentially worse.

True to form, The Donald is striking out.  Apparently he has called Cruz “a pussy.”  I had to Google it because polite press wouldn’t tell me exactly what Trump had said.  I will need to read more about this but nothing Trump does surprises me.

Back in the olden days of the early Republic, politics was this nasty.  Yes, it was. And now we have returned to it, thanks to the Donald.  Ah, we shall see how this plays out.  Not prettily I think.

It’s getting late. I’m off to bed. I have coffee hour tomorrow.  May your tomorrow be good…

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Posted in 2016 Election, Claverack, Elections, Entertainment, Gay, Gay Liberation, Hudson New York, Mat Tombers, Mathew Tombers, Media, Political Commentary, Politics, Putin, Social Commentary, Syrian Refugee Crisis, Television, Trump, Uncategorized | Leave a Comment »

Letter From New York 01 09 2016 “No man is an island…”

February 10, 2016

It is dark outside; the floodlights over the creek are glistening on the water and the snow from last night.  It is beautiful and peaceful.  There is a fire in the stove but no music plays.  I have lived in quiet all day.  I am thoughtful and introspective, having much to assimilate.

The last time I wrote a letter I was hoping to be “tickety boo” the next day.  I was not.  By 5 on Tuesday I was running a fever and by 9:30 I was 103.5 and rising.  Calling young Nick, he raced to the cottage, tumbled me into a car and got me to the hospital.

They admitted me with pneumonia but it soon became evident something else was going on.  The closest to knowing what that something else is, is that I was suffering from some kind of intestinal infection of an undetermined nature.

On Wednesday, I was to teach but my friend James Green was skyping in so class went on with another teacher as proctor.  It took an hour to compose a cogent email on my phone to the school and James to explain the situation. 

For four days, I was in the hospital bed, being pumped full of IV antibiotics.  They ordered a colonoscopy and the prep for that while hooked to an IV stand was a horror story.

I hoped to be out on Thursday but my temperature wouldn’t stay down.  It was a time of thinking and, truthfully, hurting, great emotion and being touched by the kindness of others.

My self perception is of one who helps and comforts others but is not much in need of help or comfort himself.  My brother is a doctor, my sister is a nurse and I was, for a time, a teacher.  All helping professions…  We were raised to give and not take.

But sometimes we need to receive and the last two months I have been reminded of that regularly, most sharply in the time I was in the hospital.  My brother and sister, God love them, conferred by phone, and my brother guided me through what to ask about and what to request.  He spoke to the doctors, letting them know there was a knowledgeable person watching over the proceedings. 

The respect in our community for our local hospital is, how can I say this kindly, low.  On Wednesday night, when I was feeling very low, and still burning with fever, Nick’s father phoned me and told me that no matter where I needed to go, they would find a way to get me there if I opted to leave where I was.  I started to cry.

I sent an email to the McCormick/Malones and my “niece-in-law” phoned me within minutes and I cried again.

During the endless night, I thought what if I had been a Syrian refugee and this had happened?  I would probably have died.

Being in a hospital is like being on a never ending red eye from LA to New York.  Never quite resting, always being woken by something or someone, inescapable sound at all times.  During the sleepless nights I binged watched “White Collar,” entertaining and not too demanding.

On Thursday, Lionel announced he was flying up from Baltimore.  Arriving Friday early afternoon, he came in time to take me home.  When he walked in, I said that everyone in the World Wide Web of Mathew thanked him and I cried again.

I haven’t felt this vulnerable since my ex and I split over ten years ago.  I had retreated into a quiet place where I could give but found it hard to receive and feel the affection so many have for me.

Nothing like a fever of 103+ to pierce the veil of stoicism.

John Donne wrote:  no man is an island.  And certainly not me…

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Posted in Mat Tombers, Mathew Tombers, Mideast, Social Commentary, Syrian Refugee Crisis, Uncategorized | 4 Comments »

Letter From New York 01 20 2016 May we all succeed…

January 21, 2016

Today was a long day.  It was my first day of class and it reminded me of how much work teaching is and how much work I will have to do to prepare for each class.

Class was dismissed early because I had to drive down to Livingston, NJ for my friend Paul’s Memorial Service.  I dismissed class at 11:45 and made it to Livingston, NJ at 1:58.  The service started at 2:00.

I was the fourth person to speak.  It was hard for me to make it through.  The sense of loss caught in my throat though I did not break down but it was all that I could do not to.

That was true of almost everyone who spoke.  The last speaker was his mother, now 105.

His grandson Daniel was riven by grief, hard to see, hard to bear.  When I arrived, his daughter hugged me and said, “You had fun, you two.”  And we did.

As I drove down, I listened to the radio, always attempting to find a station to listen to that could be picked up.  It was hard.  I heard about the stock market plunge and there was naught that I could do about it driving down New York 87.  The market dive seems to be driven by the fall of oil prices.  One commentator said that the markets weren’t factoring in the good that might come of lower oil prices.

With sanctions being lifted on Iran, it is about to start selling its oil which will further depress prices.  It is going to be a wicked winter, I fear.

I had thought to drive from Livingston, NJ into the city and spend the night but had decided against it as there is a storm brewing which could make driving tough as early as Friday.  So I came home and will train in tomorrow morning for some meetings and a dinner with an old friend, Jerry May.

He and I have known each other for thirty-two years, having met when we were young, in advertising.  I was at his 30th birthday party, having helped planned the surprise party that night.

He lived in San Francisco then and was my client when I was at A&E.  Now he lives in Seattle, at a new agency.  His now wife, Gail, lured me to Seattle on the pretext she was throwing a big birthday party for Jerry.

They punked us.  They threw a surprise wedding for themselves.  I was so pleased that across the years Jerry would want me at his wedding.  We had seen each other little but had remained in contact through LinkedIn and I looked him up when I passed through Seattle on one of my train journeys.

People make the fabric of our lives.  Riches come and go.  But it is the people we touch that really, really, really matter. 

For Paul’s Memorial Card, his daughter Karen chose a quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson.  I pass it on tonight to you.

“To laugh often and much, to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children, to earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends, to appreciate beauty, to find the best in others, to leave the world a bit better whether by healthy child, a garden patch, or a reformed social condition, to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived.  This is to have succeeded.”

Paul’s grandson concluded his speech with saying his grandfather had succeeded.  He had made Daniel’s life breathe easier.  He made many peoples live breathe easier, mine included.

May we all succeed.

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Posted in Columbia County, Hudson New York, Life, Literature, Mat Tombers, Mathew Tombers, Media, Social Commentary, Uncategorized | Leave a Comment »

Letter From New York 12 05 15 Winter Walk in Hudson…

December 6, 2015

Hudson, New York.  Winter Walk. The Red Dot. James Linkin.  Mat Tombers. Mathew Tombers. Nutcracker. Columbia County, New York.  Warren Street, Hudson.  Old Chatham Kettle Corn.  Alana Hauptman. Brooklyn North. Hamptons.

It is the first Saturday in December and that means that tonight was Winter Walk in Hudson, an event I have attended faithfully for fourteen years. 

Hudson has one of the most magnificent collections of late 19th Century buildings in the country and each year on the first Saturday in December decks itself out for a winter party. 

Carolers line the streets and sing traditional carols while people in costume meander the street.  Shops decorate themselves for the day and there are probably 30,000 people who show up for the party.

It is Hudson’s kick-off for the Holiday Season.

For me, it reached its culmination when I returned from wandering the streets to go to The Red Dot to meet my friend James Linkin.  You couldn’t move in the place and it was the most festive of the places I had visited.

Alana, proprietress of The Red Dot, goes full tilt every year to transform her establishment to some Christmas theme.  This year may well be the most spectacular she has created.  It was all about The Nutcracker. 

She did an amazing job and it, alone, put me in a festive mood.

It was a local night.  The conversations were about decorative windows and great themes and neighborly conversations.  It was a celebration of local joy.  Tonight was about hometown.  Hudson is the county seat and the heart of Columbia County.

While I don’t live in Hudson it is the center of my life in Columbia County.  It is for almost everyone who lives in the county.  Hudson has a life of its own.

It is the last suburb of New York and the first suburb of Albany.  It has attracted a number of people who are economic refugees from New York, people who are connected to the city and who can no longer afford to live there.

It is a haven for those who are artistic, many are the artists who once made SoHo, SoHo.    

The creative energy that has found itself here that is amazing. 

With humor, people have called this Brooklyn North or SoHo Redux.  And it is true, there is a creative energy that flows through the county that is quite amazing.

The weekenders are people who cannot afford nor want to be in the Hamptons; looking for something that is more tangible and real.  We are also inhabited with those who could afford the Hamptons but don’t want it.

I have been to fourteen successive Winter Walks and each year find something new to wonder at.

Tonight I wandered through almost all of Warren Street while eating some of the best popcorn in the world:  Old Chatham Kettle Corn.  In a kind of popcorn ecstasy I walked the streets, not buying but looking for gifts for the folks on my list for which I have not found the perfect item.

Tonight the trials and the tribulations of the world were far way.  I was in my own place, my own world and allowed myself to be drenched by it.

  It was so good to celebrate my time and my place.

Since parking was impossible I hitched a ride in with young Nick after we had finished our weekend chores.  And I called Riverview Taxi to bring me home. 

Andy, the driver, came into the Red Dot to find me.  He was early and he wanted to be sure he found me and got me into his cab. 

It is the kind of personal touch of small town America that is seeping away in the world of Uber but one that I appreciate as I appreciate my place in this special place.

I’ve witnessed the growth of Hudson, seen it change a bit and know it will change more.  But it is a special place as is this whole county which is my home now.

I am lucky and am lucky enough to know I am lucky.

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Posted in Columbia County, Hamptons, Hudson New York, Mat Tombers, Mathew Tombers, Political Commentary, Social Commentary, Uncategorized, Winter Walk | 8 Comments »

Letter From New York 11 04 2015 A beautiful day to ponder world complexities…

November 4, 2015

Hudson River. Howard Bloom Saves The Universe. Election Day. Tiffany Martin Hamilton. Hudson, New York. Christ Church. Kentucky Election. Houston. San Diego Shooter. LGBT. UC Merced. David Cameron. Sharm al Sheikh. Russian Plane Crashes. Justin Trudeau. Obamacare.

Once again, I am headed south on the train to the city, doing a round trip. I have a lunch in the city and then I am turning around and getting out of Dodge and won’t be back until Monday, when I come into town for a couple of days of meetings and Howard’s podcast taping. His podcast is “Howard Bloom Saves the Universe” and is available on iTunes and other podcasting sites. Check it out. He’s great!

The day is another beautiful one. Yesterday was a perfect fall day with the temperature reaching seventy degrees while cool enough at night to justify the use of the Franklin stove. Walking through the neighborhood, I savored the muted colors and the light on the pond into which my creek flows.

The river glistens a burnished copper from the colors of the season.

Yesterday was spent mostly glued to the computer screen, accomplishing digital tasks. My walk was a welcome interlude.

In a way the day felt like an interlude, despite being glued to the screen of my laptop. I didn’t notice much about the world and reveled mostly in the comfort of my cottage.

Yesterday was Election Day. In Hudson, our county’s “big city,” there was a hotly contested Mayoral race that appears the Democrat won. Absentee ballots are yet to be counted though those mostly tend toward Democrats. If it holds, Tiffany Martin Hamilton will be the first Democratic Mayor of Hudson in my memory.

She’s the daughter of the choir director at Christ Church, where I attend services.

Around the country, conservatives had a big night. They voted down an LGBT anti-discrimination effort in Houston and booted the Democrats out of the Kentucky Governor’s mansion.

Pundits this morning, as I was driving to the station, posited that Democrats were not well organized and Conservatives were. In all these places, voter turnout was low. I feel such frustration when people don’t vote.

As I continue, I am sitting in the Acela Lounge, watching CNN on the monitor. There is a live “incident” near the San Diego airport; a shooter is active and planes are being diverted. The shooter has a high-powered rifle and has come close to hitting police.

They are also talking about a nine year old African American boy in Chicago who has died in gun violence, shot multiple times. Mayor Rahm is saying there is a “special place” for the person who did this. I agree.

At UC Merced, there were five people stabbed before police killed the man wielding the knife.

David Cameron, the British Prime Minister, has delayed flights to and from Sharm el Sheikh while a British team makes a determination about security at the airport there. Cameron and the Brits are concerned that a bomb may have brought down the Russian plane recently, losing all aboard, including 25 children. American Intelligence is suggesting the same.

An affiliate of IS claims responsibility.

A Russian built cargo plane went down yesterday in the Sudan. Children were some of the victims there too.

Justin Trudeau has been sworn in a Prime Minister of Canada and half his cabinet is female. It is, after all, 2015, he points out.

Now that we are two years into Obamacare, a map of the uninsured shows that most of them are in the South and Southwest. Surpised?

And the death rate for middle aged white men who have not received a high school degree has skyrocketed. One article suggests they are dying of despair.

All this violence and despair are hard to imagine as I head back north, the sun just beginning to set in the west, the sun a bright slash across the river. It is peaceful; I am in the café car, sipping a wine and writing, heading north to my cottage, after a good lunch with friends, all soft and right in my world while knowing it is not soft and right in so many other places.

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Letter From Claverack Creek 08 28 15 Of anniversaries and other things…

August 28, 2015

It is a bucolic day here in Claverack. The temperature is in the mid-70’s and it is mostly sunny. I have spent a good part of the day on the deck. Yesterday I did my Emmy judging and today was CINE judging. I have more of that to do tomorrow because some of the links weren’t present and had to be restored.

As part of my continuing transition to life in Hudson, I went down and met with the Executive Director of the Columbia County Council for the Arts about volunteering, also meeting Dan, a member of their Board.

I’ll do something with them. I know I will need structure if I am going to be up here most of the time.

Then I meandered down to Relish, a little café across the street from the train station and had their legendary chicken salad on gluten free bread. As I returned, I needed to slow for a fawn crossing Patroon Street.

It’s been lovely to have had these two days. Down the creek, my neighbor’s dogs are playing in the creek. I can hear them splashing. It is so placid; insects are chirping and birds are trilling, the sun getting slowly lower in the sky, luscious green all around me.

I’ll go into Hudson in a while. The new hotel, Rivertown Lodge, is having a party for citizens of the city to see the renovation they did on what was a movie theater turned into a motel, now converted to a small boutique hotel. From there to the Red Dot and then home. A pleasant evening seems to be before me.

Ten years ago, Katrina was destroying New Orleans. I was watching it on CNN in New Delhi, in the Oberoi Hotel, sitting on the edge of my bed in front of the television screen and thinking this can’t really be happening. But it was.

Ten years later, New Orleans has, according to some reports, bounced back. Some parts have returned to their violent roots and parts of the black middle class has been lost, having moved to other cities and set down roots.

But that it came back at all is a miracle of sorts. There were fears in those early days that New Orleans would never recover its spirit, its verve, and all the things that had made it such a special place. I haven’t been there since Katrina but am thinking of taking the train “The City of New Orleans” or “The Crescent” down there one day and revisit a city of which I have many fond memories.

Today is also the anniversary of the death of a 14-year-old black child, Emmett Tull, allegedly killed for the brutal crime of a wolf whistle at an attractive white lady. It took a jury an hour and three minutes to acquit the two men accused of murdering him. The boy’s death did much to stir up calls for racial equality and provided an impetus for the Civil Rights movement.

Seventy years after the end of World War II, the Poles think they have found a Nazi treasure train. Rumors of its existence have persisted through the decades and now it may have been found. Wonder what it contains if it is a Nazi “treasure” train?

Politically, it has appeared to be a calm day. In the top stories, none of them were about Donald Trump! That’s a good way to end the week.

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Letter From Claverack 08 12 15 An interesting evening in Claverack…

August 12, 2015

Yesterday, the world was drenched with rain; it continued through the night and when I went for my morning coffee the deck was sodden but the sky was bright with sunshine and hope for the day. The creek was a muddy brown and high from all the rain.

There was a bit of a chill in the air; so much so that I didn’t want to venture out onto the deck for that morning cup of coffee and a perusal of the Times. I returned to bed and read there, sipping coffee and enjoying the warmth of my bedroom.

I had an 11:00 AM meeting in Hudson. Finishing that, I went down to Relish and had the soup of the day, wandered up to Ca’Mea for a glass of wine while finishing reading the book I had and then home. It was a thoroughly civilized afternoon.

Now I am at home; jazz is playing on Pandora. I am on the deck. While the creek is still a bit muddy, it is reflecting back the green from the trees in that wonderful mirror like quality it can have. The setting sun is warm on my back; the threatened thunderstorms have not materialized today.

As I often do, I feel content here on the deck, looking over the creek, music in the background. It fills me with an enormous peace.

However, while I have been living in the peaceful bubble of Martha’s Vineyard and the cottage, the world has not been peaceful.

In Tianjin, China at least seven people have been killed and at least 300 injured in a blast. That is not peaceful. And it is not peaceful in the markets today. The Chinese are devaluing the Yuan and that is causing market hysteria. Something is askew in China and the devaluation of the Yuan is the harbinger. They are in trouble in China and these moves are reflections of those troubles. The markets in China have been crashing. Something profound is going on in China and we all need to pay attention because it will affect everything in our lives. China is now that big. They’re in trouble and are trying to contain that trouble.

A Croatian, kidnapped in Cairo, has apparently been beheaded by IS in the Sinai. That, too, is not peaceful.

Jimmy Carter, the best ex-President we’ve had, is 90 years old and now suffering from cancer. Well-wishers are coming out of the woodwork. I didn’t vote for him but wasn’t sorry he was elected. His Presidency was flawed but his presence since then has been unflawed. We are nearing the end of his life and I will be sorry to see him go when he does, probably farther in the future than we imagine.

Kim Jong-un, that pudgy little North Korean dictator, has been executing more people that don’t agree with him. He lines them up and lets a huge cannon blow them to smithereens. Just the sort of thing one expects from him. The most recent victim seemed to have disagreed with him on his forestry policy. Ouch. Not a pretty way to go.

When I was young I wanted to be an Egyptologist. It is not what happened with my life but I am still fascinated. There are those who say that behind the walls of the tomb of King Tutankhamen may lay the tomb of his mother, Nefertiti, who has entranced us forever. I spent an hour with her statue in Berlin a year or so ago. She is a haunting creature that has captured our attention for thousands of years. I will wait for this story to play out. I am fascinated by it. Never became an Egyptologist but doesn’t mean I’m not interested.

The sun sets in the west. It is a beautiful evening in Claverack. I rejoice in being here, far from the madness that rules the world.

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Letter from Claverack 08 06 15 Thoughts while watching the creek…

August 7, 2015

It is still light in Claverack; the sky is now pearl grey. The creek is mirror still and there are birds chirping all around me. This morning, while on a conference call, an elegant bird that looked much like a pelican swooped low over the creek and then stood across from me in the water, standing proud on tall spindly legs. This afternoon, returning from the post office, a doe and her fawn crossed the road as I negotiated the curve. I’ve seen few deer of late so this was a particular pleasure.

The packing for my long weekend on Martha’s Vineyard is near completed. In the morning I will throw in my toiletries and be on my way. Depending on my mood, I may go into Hudson and breakfast at Relish, where I lunched today while reading my book.

My binge viewing has declined. My binge reading has increased. I am now in book four of Stephen Saylor’s series, “Roma Sub Rosa.” My Kindle will go with me to the Vineyard. There are twelve books in the series. I wonder if I will read them all?

I suspect so. I am enjoying the characters.

It has been another mostly perfect day in the country. The temperature was moderate and most of the day the sun shone down pleasantly. Up early, I sat in my bathrobe on the deck and sipped my coffee and read the Daily Briefing from the New York Times.

I am sure that Fox News will get staggering ratings tonight for the first Republican Debate, starring Donald Trump who reportedly has not prepared for it. He is what he is and will say what he will say. I am curious of course but I have cut the cord and have no cable.

It is also Jon Stewart’s last night as host of “The Daily Show.”   I really would like to see that but alas, I won’t and suspect I will be asleep before he takes his bows. It will be the talk of tomorrow.

The markets had a bruising day today, driven by a media stock meltdown. Disney issued a guidance, Viacom was off as their networks are not doing so well and so there was a little bit of panic about all old media stocks while Netflix rose another 2+ percent.

Media decline is still more perception than reality. However, the great change is coming and the landscape I grew up with is being irreversibly transformed. I was a bright young man when I opened the West Coast office for A&E and that was the beginning of the gnawing on the bones of broadcast networks. Now cable is feeling the bite.

Today is the 50th Anniversary of the Voting Rights Act. A child at the time it was enacted I really didn’t understand the significance. But I do remember a phrase from my childhood. You could do anything you wanted as long as you were “free, white and twenty-one.” I have been thinking about that phrase lately and realizing that it was an expression of deeply rooted racial discrimination.

And there STILL seems to be a determination in this country to disenfranchise people from voting, by any means possible. Our racial record is really disturbing to me.

My sister once reported to my mother that I had called a man a “nigger.” I had not. My sister didn’t like me much and did her best to get me in trouble. My mother washed my mouth out with soap. I still remember it.

Sometime later, my brother wanted to bring home a friend from medical school who was black and my mother forbade it. She and I had a confrontation about it. She acknowledged she had prejudices with which she had grown up and could not shake but did not want us to have them.

Race relations in this country are, at best, fraught. It’s that pesky legacy of slavery.

Across the creek are the sounds of wild animals. I think it is coyotes howling. My neighbors have seen them skulking in the field across from their house.

The sky is still pearl grey. It is closing in on 8:00 PM. I am happy and grateful I am able to write this while on my deck. Tomorrow I will be on the Vineyard.

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Letter From New York 08 01 15 Thoughts from the west bank of the Claverack Creek…

August 2, 2015

Behind me, soft jazz plays on Pandora. In front of me the creek is reflecting the green that overhangs it. The sun is setting and I am at the table on the deck writing on my laptop. It seems the perfect way to end a day.

It was not an eventful day. I woke early. As I went to turn on the coffee pot, the deck glistened with a recent rain. I went out there to sit.

In the early morning, I sat reading the NY Times and taking in the fresh air, listening to the songs of the birds in the trees. It seems right that I am bookending the day with more time on the deck. Every moment here is precious. In a time I can see coming, the trees will turn the brilliant colors of fall and then the winter will come. I enjoy the seasons and am grateful that my little piece of heaven includes four of them.

It is a soft and silky evening. Alana, proprietress of the Red Dot, and Patrick, her partner, were here for part of the afternoon and recently left. As I was leaving after lunch at the Dot, she asked me to stay and I did. She wanted to come and sit on the deck, watch the creek and experience a moment of peace. It has been a tough week for her.

They came. We had wine and cheese and then they left and I am here in the silver light of the end of day, listening again to the songs of the birds and thinking about the world.

An eighteen-month-old Palestinian baby was laid to rest today, immolated by Israeli extremists apparently. The rest of his family is being treated for burns. It is unsure that his mother will survive. Following a Jewish Orthodox man attacking the Gay Pride Parade in Jerusalem, knifing nine people, including a fifteen year old who is fighting for her life, this is a week when Israel is asking itself serious questions.

The serious questions they ask themselves are the same serious questions we all need to be asking ourselves. In America, we have become inured to the violence and that is tragic. For a few moments, after an event such as the killing of nine in Charleston, we ask questions but then go on, forgetting what has occurred until the next atrocity and when that happens, we quickly forget. It seems, sometimes, we learn nothing. The Confederate Flag has gone down in South Carolina and that is good but shouldn’t it have come down long ago?

While it is warm in upstate New York, it is blisteringly hot in Iran and Iraq. Iran posted a heat index of 165 degrees Fahrenheit today and in Iraq a four-day mandatory holiday has been declared to help people cope, especially since the delivery of electricity is not very reliable. I can’t comprehend a heat index of 165 Fahrenheit. Sorry, not processing. I think I would incinerate.

The Donald is still leading the Republicans in the polls and I am still confused how that can be but it is.

There has been no agreement on the Trans-Pacific Partnership after meetings in Hawaii. Everyone seems to thing it will still happen but that it didn’t happen was unexpected. And a bit of an embarrassment for Obama… However, there were 650 people meeting! It’s hard for me to get three people to agree on where to eat!

Facebook is prepping a drone to bring Internet access to people who don’t have it. Its CEO, Mark Zuckerberg, is expecting a baby. Gosh, the world keeps going on. I’m more excited by the Internet access than the baby but that’s probably because I don’t know Mark personally.

An Ebola vaccine looks more than promising and, hopefully, it will help contain and eliminate that scourge from the world.

The light around me is very silver. The day is ending. I am in twilight and the world around me is growing quiet. The birds are not as outspoken. Far away is the sound of something motorized, a sound I don’t recognize, something new. The jazz continues playing and soon I will go into the house and watch a movie.

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