Kevin James Malone is not my nephew. He is the child of my oldest friend, Sarah McCormick Malone, whom I have known since we were three. There is a picture of the two of us on her parents’ couch in our rain gear on our first day of kindergarten. [We were adorable.] We were already fast friends then and have been ever since.
From the time he was born, I was around about as much as any of his maternal uncles as the Malones lived in New Mexico and Michael, Bill and John, her three brothers, lived in the Midwest and on the East Coast, where her parents had settled.
On one wonderful Mother’s Day weekend, Sarah and Kevin came to visit “Uncle Mat” when I lived in Santa Monica. We flew kites on the beach and road around in my convertible, watched movies late into the night, Kevin outlasting both his mother and me. Kevin was maybe three years old.
When the eldest McCormick daughter, Mary Clare, celebrated her 25th anniversary to her husband Jim Eros [I had brunch with them last weekend], her parents threw a dinner at their country club on Long Island.
It seems to me that I was still living in California but was in New York at that moment and John and Eileen, Sarah’s parents, told everyone there would be a surprise guest. [Me.]
Kevin was then about eight or nine then. At some point in the evening Kevin went to his grandmother and asked her why Uncle Mat had a different last name than her other brothers, leaving Eileen to awkwardly attempt to explain.
Forever captured in the photo album of my brain is Kevin Malone walking up to me at that dinner, dressed in a suit and tie, putting his hands on his hips and looking up at me and demanding to know: what do you mean you’re not one of my mother’s brothers?
It was a hiccup in our relationship we survived.
Years later, when he and his father and I were visiting him at work, we met his boss. Kevin introduced his father and then me and said, this is my Uncle Mat.
When he was married to Michelle, I gave a toast at the Rehearsal Dinner. We shopped for a shirt for him that day, together.
Kevin is not my nephew by blood but he is my nephew by choice. His and mine. I refer to him as my nephew when I talk about him to other people. There is no other way to describe my relationship with him or his to me.
When he emailed me yesterday, along with others in his family, to announce he had passed the Bar in the District of Columbia, I felt so proud and glad. Today I learned he has also passed the Bar in Massachusetts and I felt another swell of pride.
You see, I have no words to describe how wonderful a young man Kevin is. He is one of the most unique individuals I have ever encountered. Caring, thoughtful, whip smart without being arrogant about it, determined to be the best Kevin James Malone he can be.
I don’t remember how I met Sarah McCormick Malone but I did and our childhood friendship has endured and I am blessed to have been included in her family as a member of choice and they in mine, as family of choice.
Because of logistics we will not be able to do it this year but we have spent many a Christmas together over this last decade.
In the Strum und Drang of these last days before the election, I am comforted by the presence in this world of a man like my nephew Kevin, now a member of the Bar, a lawyer for real, who will do extraordinary things in his life.
Kevin, I am so proud of you. Congratulations.
Kevin and his mother the weekend of his wedding to Michelle Melton…
Letter from the Vineyard 
Letter From Claverack 05 12 2017 A Series of JDLR’s…
May 12, 2017On Monday, I had a conversation with a friend; she stated she felt she was living with constant stress due to the political landscape in Washington. Then I had virtually the same conversation on Tuesday with another friend, followed by one on Wednesday and then again yesterday, which resulted in my friend bursting into tears.
Lest you think these are bitter liberals, two of the four are folks who consider themselves moderate Republicans.
And then there were two bright young men I met at the studio who are going to launch a conservative talk show on the station and they are full of fervor and believe that Donald Trump is the best thing that could have happened to America.
And these conversations put the spotlight on the vast political chasm that is dividing the country today.
For those of a certain mindset, liberals and moderate Republicans, the constant torment of political news is causing them to feel they are living under a dome of stress on top of the stress of ordinary life.
Many Democrats and Progressives live in outrage. My moderate Republican friends feel the party they knew has been snatched from them, finally, irrevocably.
Nearly everyone is taking, or talking about taking, a break from news, which I did, certainly, and chronicled in my last letter.
One thing I am doing is reveling as much as I can in the beauty around me and I am so fortunate to live in this beautiful spot. Just now, outside my window, a blue jay landed and we shared a look before he winged away.
If I were not in this place, called “your Walden Pond” by a friend, I might be going quite mad.
Parsing the day’s news is daunting.
Comey’s firing has the world all a frazzle. Keeping a promise to a very Republican friend, I do my best to look not just at the New York Times. So, after the sacking of the FBI Director, I checked on reactions from all sides of the spectrum. Some, both conservative and liberal, felt the guy had to go. Most had a sense of dis-ease at the timing, days after Comey had asked for more resources for the investigation into Russian collusion during the campaign with Trump’s campaign.
Some likened it to the “Saturday Night Massacre” during Nixon’s Watergate debacle though I don’t think we’ve quite hit that yet. And I have this gnawing sense we might get there.
Back in my Santa Monica days, my neighbor and friend, Susan Ottalini, was an editor for CBS News and had started her career as a journalist in small town California. She would ride on patrol with the police and sometimes they would pull someone over because it “JDLR,” just doesn’t look right.
Comey’s firing looks to me to be a “JDLR.”
Along with Trump’s tweets today, seeming to threaten Comey about not leaking to the press.
The day after Comey’s firing, President Trump met with Russia’s Foreign Minister, Lavrov and the Russian Ambassador. No U.S. photographers were allowed to capture Trump and Lavrov, only Lavrov’s personal photographer had access.
“JDLR” on a couple of counts.
The Alt Left and Alt Right are awash with conspiracy rumors.
And the hysteria requires me to concentrate on things like: how the sun falls between the trees when I am sitting at my desk in the afternoon, how the wind moves the branches of blooming trees, how my kitchen smells after I have made something really good…
My music choices are mostly upbeat swing jazz; it lifts my mood in the morning though earlier today I listened to folk from the 1960’s and it reminded me of those dark times, Viet Nam sliding into Nixon, Watergate, democracy lurching and then righting itself.
Hope springs eternal in the human breast;
Man never is, but always to be blessed:
The soul, uneasy and confined from home,
Rests and expatiates in a life to come.
Alexander Pope, Essay on Man
Once, long ago, when I was living in Santa Monica, one of my neighbors was Susan Ottalini, an editor for CBS News, who started her career as a police reporter in a smallish California town. Sometimes she rode along with officers as they were patrolling
As I start this blog, it is the evening of May 10th, the evening after President Trump fired James Comey, Director of the FBI, who found out he was fired from newscasts. And the world is quite aflutter about it.
The White House seemed unprepared for the backlash which
Tags:"Just Doesn't Look Right", Alexander Pope, Alt Left, Alt right, Comey, Democrats, General, Hope springs eternal in the human breast, JDLR, Republicans, Santa Monica, Saturday Night Massacre, Susan Ottalini, Trump, Walden Pond
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