tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51861084217921631372024-03-13T07:47:39.001-07:00POTPOURRIComments on a Variety of Subjects:
Music, Politics, Religion, Architecture, History, Poetry, ArtPOTPOURRIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07263407097104630684noreply@blogger.comBlogger591125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186108421792163137.post-8089112388721119882019-01-29T10:30:00.002-08:002021-07-29T22:01:55.633-07:00SAN FRANCISCO'S BIRTHDAY ~ 1847<div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Today, January 30th, is the day that the sleepy little village of Yerba Buena changed its name to San Francisco in 1847 (the year before discovery of gold on January 24, 1848; the treaty of Guadelupe Hildago, which ended the Mexican American War, signed a week later on February 2, 1848; then the Gold Rush the following year in 1849—when the population surged from 800 to 80,000 in a single year; and California Statehood in 1850).<br /><br />I had already known that January 30th was the anniversary of the beheading of Charles I outside Inigo Jones' glorious Banqueting House in Whitehall. But I hadn’t known that Oliver Cromwell was ceremoniously executed twelve years to the day after Charles. He had already been dead for two years! When I first went to the Henry VII chapel at the very end of Westminster Abbey, I was surprised to see a bronze plaque in the floor: "Oliver Cromwell 1659 -1661." What ... he was only two years old? Could this have been the grandson of the great Lord Protector and regicide of Charles I? Well no, it was the old Puritan himself.<br /><br />He was buried there for two years until the Stuart Restoration. Charles II had him exhumed, beheaded, burned and drawn and quartered, then secretly scattered twelve years to the day after his father's execution ordered by Oliver Cromwell. Nothing like revenge!<br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Other notable deaths on this day were Crown Prince Rudolf at Meyerling in 1889, and Mahatma Gandhi in 1947.<br /><br />The day also marked Adolf Hitler's appointment as Reich Chancellor in 1933 (of all things, on FDR's birthday, after he was elected in November, but before his inauguration in March 1933 – afterwards changed to January 20th because the electorate didn't want to wait so long for a transfer of power, especially during a Depression.) </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Until I Googled, I hadn't </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RMIeFF2Drjg/Sj5NuD8oQ3I/AAAAAAAABEs/jRS9fQtM490/s1600-h/Danny" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a>known that such illustrious figures as FDR, Barbara Tuchman (a great American historian & one of my favorites), the extraordinary Vanessa Redgrave, and Christian Bale shared their birthdays on January 30th.</span></div>
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POTPOURRIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07263407097104630684noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186108421792163137.post-20011606833263799792015-04-16T00:01:00.000-07:002015-04-16T05:27:10.086-07:00ROBERT F. RICH BELL ~ 1949<div>
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<span style="font-size: 20.7999992370605px;">Today, April 16th, is my birthday...I am sixty-six years old! Ugh!!! </span><span style="font-size: 20.7999992370605px;">I never thought I'd live this long. I was a world-weary old man at eighteen. </span><span style="font-size: 20.7999992370605px;">But today many of my best friends are in their mid-20's and early-30's! </span><span style="font-size: 20.7999992370605px;">Go figure!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">One of my women cardiologists says that sixty is the new forty. We'll see. I'm not convinced. But it is amazing that I'm still here. (At least I share my birthday with Peter Ustinov and Charlie Chaplin...even the retired Pope.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 130%;">I was born the day before Easter. Mother awoke in the middle of the night after<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span>Good Friday, and informed Dad that she was coming down with the mumps. Dad said, “Go back to sleep, dear.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span>Later Ibby woke up again, and said: “Sherry, I think I’m going into labor.” Dad arose with a start and exclaimed: “You can’t do this to me!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span>I have <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">four</span></i> services tomorrow.” I was born at 5:55 PM on Holy Saturday April 16, 1949. So my first morning light was the Day of Resurrection (a distinction that— I’m embarrassed to say— I shared with Adolf Hitler: as April 20th was the Saturday before Easter in 1889). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 130%;">A more intriguing possibility is recent speculation about the actual <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">birth</span></i> of Jesus. It’s clear to any informed non-fundamentalist Christian that the year is off. Apparently the scribe Dionysius wasn’t aware that Herod the Great had died in 3 B.C.E. [Before the Common Era] So if the Gospels are to be believed— that Jesus was born during the reign of Herod— the date is short by at least three years. And the actual day, December 25, wasn’t designated until the time of Constantine, when it conveniently was merged with the birth of Sol Invictus, Zoroaster, and that favorite Roman holiday, Saturnalia, whose main features were imbibing too much and exchanging presents. (So when people complain about the commercialization of Christmas, and long for a return to its original purpose; perhaps it already has.) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 130%;">Anyway recent astronomical studies have discovered an extraordinary convergence of stars and planets in the year 4 B.C.E.. Several scholars conclude then, that the real birth of Jesus, or Joshua ben Joseph, was on April 17 4 B.C.E.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span>Since he was born in the Middle East—and you factor in the time zones – I may actually have been born on the authentic <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Christmas</span></i>!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 130%;">I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">was</span></i> born prematurely— not a lot. I don’t think I was put in an incubator; but I was early .....and hungry. I was wrinkled and purple. Supposedly Mother joked that I was the “ugliest baby” she had ever seen. Imagine that! Of course she didn’t mean it— and she never did have a very natural sense of humor. Still........</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 130%;">My birth announcement stated I was “A little old man with big possibilities.”(I’m definitely feeling the first part these days.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: 130%;">All four of us children were born in Columbus, Ohio. All four, delivered by the same obstetrician: two before the war; two after. Yet between each child, the family lived in different states. It was a little like the salmon coming back to spawning grounds.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: 130%;">When I was a year and half, we moved to Pennsylvania – never again to return to live in Ohio.</span></span></div>
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POTPOURRIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07263407097104630684noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186108421792163137.post-17815650799414158392015-04-13T00:01:00.000-07:002015-04-13T07:35:39.638-07:00HANDEL's "MESSIAH" Premieres in Dublin ~ 1742<div>
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">I've been to Dublin once, back in May of 1996. I was part of the entertainment for a group from Texas. They rented one of the restored castles on the Pale, the outskirts of Dublin. That defined the protected area. Anything further was 'beyond the Pale.'</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">I really liked Dublin, particularly Trinity College. I saw several pages of the <em>Book of Kells</em> in the Trinity College Library. Years ago it was on tour, and I viewed it at the Palace of Legion of Honor here in San Francisco.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">Since the English controlled Ireland for many centuries-- and Dublin was in fact almost always an English enclave after being founded by Vikings-- St. Patrick's Cathedral in Dublin is Church of Ireland, that is connected with the Anglican communion, not Roman Catholic. The Roman Cathedral is St. Mary's. I attended services at both, plus Christ Church Cathedral, a second Anglican Cathedral with a marvelous mixed choir of men and women. Until I sang with the <em>Schola Cantorum</em>, I had never heard such a beautiful blend of women's voices in a liturgical setting. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">The location of the first performance of Handel's <em>Messiah</em> was but a short distance from Christ Church Cathedral. But I had to scour the area in order to locate it. There was only a small plaque on a rather dilapidated building near some construction sites. Perhaps it has a more appropriate marker today after completion of the project. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">Revisit my February 17, 2010 post "Hallelujah!" for an account of George II's first hearing of <i>Messiah</i>.</span></div>
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POTPOURRIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07263407097104630684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186108421792163137.post-19473904252312577332015-04-12T00:01:00.000-07:002015-04-13T07:33:30.876-07:00Conquest of the VENETIAN REPUBLIC by Napoleon Bonaparte ~ May 12, 1797<div>
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<span style="font-size: 78%;">Image: wikipedia.com</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-size: 130%;">A sad day in the history of the world... the end of an almost thousand-year old Republic!</span></span><br />
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POTPOURRIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07263407097104630684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186108421792163137.post-45959147711999145672015-04-03T00:01:00.000-07:002015-04-03T00:01:00.592-07:00JOHANNES BRAHMS ~ May 7, 1833 ~ April 3, 1897<div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 10;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13; line-height: 19px;"><span style="font-size: 0;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Johannes Brahms</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">(7 May 1833 – 3 April 1897), was a </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">German</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> composer and pianist, one of the leading musicians of the </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Romantic period</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">. Born in </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Hamburg</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">, Brahms spent much of his professional life in </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Vienna</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">, </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Austria</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">, where he was a leader of the musical scene. In his lifetime, Brahms's popularity and influence were considerable; following a comment by the nineteenth-century conductor </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Hans von Bülow</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">, he is sometimes grouped with </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Johann Sebastian Bach</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> and </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Ludwig van Beethoven</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> as one of the </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Three Bs</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 10;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13; line-height: 19px;"><span style="font-size: 0;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Brahms composed for piano, chamber ensembles, symphony orchestra, and for voice and chorus. A virtuoso pianist, he gave the first performance of many of his own works; he also worked with the leading performers of his time, including the pianist </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Clara Schumann</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> and the violinist </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Joseph Joachim</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">. Many of his works have become staples of the modern concert repertoire. Brahms, an uncompromising perfectionist, destroyed many of his works and left some of them unpublished.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 10;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13; line-height: 19px;"><span style="font-size: 0;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Brahms was at once a traditionalist and an innovator. His music is firmly rooted in the structures and compositional techniques of the Baroque and Classical masters. He was a master of </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">counterpoint</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">, the complex and highly disciplined method of composition for which Bach is famous, and also of </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">development</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">, a compositional ethos pioneered by </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Haydn</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">, </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Mozart</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> and </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Beethoven</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">. Brahms aimed to honour the "purity" of these venerable "German" structures and advance them into a Romantic idiom, in the process creating bold new approaches to harmony and melody. </span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 10;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13; line-height: 19px;"><span style="font-size: 0;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">While many contemporaries found his music too academic, his contribution and craftsmanship have been admired by subsequent figures as diverse as the progressive </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Arnold Schoenberg</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> and the conservative </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Edward Elgar</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">. The diligent, highly constructed nature of Brahms's works was a starting point and an inspiration for a generation of composers.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 10;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13; line-height: 19px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Text:wikipedia.com</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 10;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13; line-height: 19px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Brahms is one of my all time favorite composers... and my first boyfriend, Stuart Kellogg, even had a golden retriever named Brahms.</span></span></span></span></div>
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POTPOURRIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07263407097104630684noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186108421792163137.post-76722465582588356142015-04-02T04:12:00.000-07:002015-04-02T06:16:21.646-07:00DENNIS JAMES GRAHAM ~~ August 13, 1950 ~~ April 2, 2006<div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Dennis James Graham, age 55, died at home on Sunday morning 2 April 2006 surrounded by his partner of more than twenty years, Rob Bell, two of his beloved Cavalier King Charles Spaniels, and several friends.<br /><br />Dennis, son of Dorothy Freeman Graham and Walter L. Graham, was born 13 August 1950 in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. He attended elementary and high school in Tipton. He studied two years at Muscatine Community College, and later attended the University of Iowa in Iowa City.<br /><br />For more than thirty years Dennis was in Fine Jewelry sales both in Iowa City & in San Francisco, where he moved in 1977. He worked for Ginsberg Jewelers, Sidney Mobell, Gump’s, Neiman-Marcus, Tiffany’s & finally Lang’s Estate Jewelry.<br /><br />Dennis was a member and active participant at Grace Cathedral in San Francisco. He served on the Congregation Council, Board of Trustees, Fabric Committee, Vocations Committee, was chair of the Stewardship Committee, convener of the Men of Grace, coordinator of the Lay Eucharist Ministry, and co-founder and Prior of the Canterbury Way—a lay Benedictine Community at the Cathedral. In addition he participated for more than fifteen years in the Benedictine Experience week at the Bishop’s Ranch in Healdsburg, California. Dennis was an Oblate of New Camaldoli Monastery at Big Sur, California.<br /><br />He was a member of the St. Andrew’s Society of San Francisco, the Order of Elks, Cavaliers of the West, and a supporter of Save Venice, Inc.<br /><br />Dennis Graham was a man of many passions and interests ranging from bicycling, swimming, his Fiat Spyder, gardening, David Austin roses, garden fauns, carp, gourmet cooking, risotto asparagi, rack of lamb, Peter Rabbit, Scottish country dancing, chess, astronomy, oriental rugs, Cavalier King Charles Spaniels, Nell, India Pudding, progressive politics & economics, Paul Krugman, Molly Ivins, flags, literature, liturgical music, Vivaldi, J.S. Bach ’Cello Suites, theatre, ballet, & travel—most especially to Venezia – with his beloved Robbie. He lived his life with purpose, zest, humor, & exuberance.<br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RMIeFF2Drjg/S69nme2FtdI/AAAAAAAABuo/_yLPmsj4Rcc/s1600/DJG+carnevale.bmp"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RMIeFF2Drjg/S69nme2FtdI/AAAAAAAABuo/_yLPmsj4Rcc/s400/DJG+carnevale.bmp" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453691584581580242" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 267px;" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /><br />Dennis died of complications from acquired immune deficiency syndrome. He was very grateful to Dr. Walford J. Fessel, his Kaiser physician for more than fifteen years, and to the Kaiser Home Hospice Program. He is survived by his partner Rob Bell, sister Christine Anderson, brother-in-law Larry Anderson of San Antonio, Texas, nephew James T. Anderson, niece Elizabeth Rose Anderson, his step-mother Evelyn Graham of Clarence, Iowa, and numerous step-relations, and Bell family in-laws.<br /><br />A Requiem Eucharist was celebrated at Grace Cathedral on 22 April 2006. Gifts in his memory may be made to Kaiser Hospice, Cavalier Rescue, Grace Cathedral Gardening Fund, or Save Venice, Inc. </span></span>POTPOURRIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07263407097104630684noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186108421792163137.post-54865966491231156592015-04-01T00:01:00.000-07:002015-04-02T06:17:44.679-07:00TENEBRAE 1986 on TENEBRAE 2015<div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RMIeFF2Drjg/SUcXt9-T_sI/AAAAAAAAAXg/bp_MuredSEc/s1600-h/extinguished_candle_by_razorcd.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RMIeFF2Drjg/SUcXt9-T_sI/AAAAAAAAAXg/bp_MuredSEc/s400/extinguished_candle_by_razorcd.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280215166612668098" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 267px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">After the post–Valentine’s Day dinner at Dennis’ place on McAllister Street, my sojourn in Eden lasted barely another six weeks.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">In the meantime Dennis with the doggies moved in to my flat on 23rd Street. The pretext was a plumbing problem on McAllister. (I was living with former flat-mate Merritt Anderson, who had lived with me previously more than a decade before. I asked Merritt, who was married and had a young son, to find another place. His wife and son lived elsewhere. He used my flat for work convenience.) Again, this was one of the happiest periods of my life.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">It was 1986— a test for HIV had just been introduced. Dennis and I both decided to be tested. I got my results first. I was negative.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">On Wednesday March 26, I went with Dennis to get his results at the public clinic on 17th Street. (It was Tennebrae of Holy Week-- when candles are extinguished one by one as a Lenten ritual in preparation for Good Friday.)</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I was sitting with Dennis when he got his results. He… was positive!!!</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">After bursting into tears, Dennis immediately proclaimed that he wanted to end our relationship—that it wasn’t fair for me to live with somebody who would soon be sick. (Reasonable expectation was that Dennis had another year or two at most).</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">It’s so easy to be clever or say the right thing at the right time when you write a screenplay or novel. For example, I’ve edited and re-edited these descriptions repeatedly. I’ll still go back and switch a word here and there.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">In real time, it isn’t so easy.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">But somehow, I was blessed… in finding the right words to say.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">It went something like:</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“If that’s what you want, Dennis, for your needs, OK, let’s talk about it. But don’t you dare tell me that because you think that’s what I want to hear. Just tell me the facts, and I’ll make up my own mind. I love you, Dennis Graham. And I want to spend my life with you – no matter what.”</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Amazingly, Dennis didn’t live another year or two, but twenty full years …and one week. We had the final sit down cracked crab dinner in the dining room following the service of last rites on Saturday March 25th 2006 – the week before Dennis died.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Had I taken the way out offered to me by Dennis on March 26th 1986, I would have missed the entire core of my life. I am continually grateful for the wisdom, luck….grace… that enabled me to say the right thing when I needed to. I consider myself so lucky to have been in a loving, long-term relationship with a special person – with Dennis James Graham.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Tenebrae this year is on April 16th -- my 65th birthday.</span></div>
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POTPOURRIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07263407097104630684noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186108421792163137.post-319767335766549642015-03-30T00:01:00.000-07:002015-04-02T06:18:46.882-07:00"Seward's Folly" 1867<div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RMIeFF2Drjg/SbFrnzVFVVI/AAAAAAAAAvI/8Y0oB4bLSTI/s1600-h/sewarsfolly.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RMIeFF2Drjg/SbFrnzVFVVI/AAAAAAAAAvI/8Y0oB4bLSTI/s400/sewarsfolly.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310143767184233810" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 318px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-size: 0;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Alaska is purchased for $7.2 million, about 2 cent/acre ($4.19/km), by United States Secretary of State William H. Seward. The news media call this Seward's Folly.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">(I would say the genuine Alaskan Folly goes by the name of Sarah Palin!</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">)</span></div>
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POTPOURRIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07263407097104630684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186108421792163137.post-20257846074448004912015-03-27T00:01:00.000-07:002015-04-02T06:19:14.182-07:00CHANTICLEER at Elizabeth Rich Bell's Memorial Service ~ 27 March 1999<div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RMIeFF2Drjg/SVZb33L5GDI/AAAAAAAAAdI/30TOc88pn3A/s1600-h/Mother" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RMIeFF2Drjg/SVZb33L5GDI/AAAAAAAAAdI/30TOc88pn3A/s400/Mother%27s+Funeral+at+Grace.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284512228030617650" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 298px;" /></a><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">My Mother, Elizabeth Rich Bell, died only three days before her 87th birthday in early March, 1999. I was able to be with her at the end, which truly was a blessing. An even more visible act of grace was Chanticleer’s singing the choral prelude before my Mother’s memorial service in my hometown, Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. The odds of that occurring were so remote that I hadn’t even contemplated it. After all, Chanticleer sings all over the world. And in the two weeks before my Mother’s service, the group sang in Mexico, Texas, Florida and Connecticut.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Completely by chance, I discovered that Chanticleer was to sing a concert only fifteen miles from Harrisburg the night before my Mother’s service. That was after calling the organist at Grace United Methodist Church to arrange a rehearsal for the afternoon before the service. When I was twelve years old my Mother made me promise to sing at her funeral. That’s a heavy burden to place upon a twelve-year old; but I intended to honor her request as best I could. Ron Sider mentioned in passing that he couldn’t rehearse too late on Friday afternoon because he was hosting a party for Chanticleer that night after their concert at Messiah College, where he was a professor.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Immediately I began to consider the possibilities. First I called Andrew Morgan, who sang with me in the Schola Cantorum at the Shrine of Saint Francis here in San Francisco. Since Andrew worked at the Chanticleer office, I figured he might know the tour schedule. From home late on a Friday night he didn’t recall the exact flight information; but gave me Frank Albinder’s e-mail address. Oh, the miracle of modern technology. Saturday morning the week before the service I e-mailed Frank, who responded within minutes. He wrote me that he had passed my message on to artistic administrator, Philip Wilder, and Lori Harnes, tour manager. But he cautioned that time constraints would be extremely difficult.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">On Monday morning Julie in the Chanticleer office was kind enough to give me the phone number of the motel where the group was staying in Hartford, Connecticut. I must have called the motel at least thirty times trying to reach Philip or Lori. As a good tour manager, Lori was making arrangements by phone. I even became friends with the woman at the front desk, after being assured I wasn’t becoming a pest. Eventually I got through and explained to Lori that I realized it would be logistically tight with an 11:00 service and a 12:25 flight about a half hour away from the church. But it wouldn’t be necessary for the group to stay for the entire service. Chanticleer could sing before the service as part of the prelude. Lori said she would talk to the guys and that a decision would be made by vote at their business meeting. And she would give me a call later that night after their concert.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Meanwhile I was completing the final draft for the order of service to be printed here with the expert assistance of my friend, Deborah Sweeney. I was beginning to think it wouldn’t work out. But at 10:30 Monday evening (which was 1:30 AM in Hartford) Lori called me at home to say the group had agreed to sing.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I reserved five parking meters especially for Chanticleer in front of the church. Full dress wouldn’t be appropriate for late morning anyway, so the guys wore dressy casual clothes as they would to a school. Despite their dress, I suggested they sing in front. But several of them asked to sing upstairs in the rear gallery. That was a wonderful idea.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Following a Brahms chorale prelude “Herzliebster Jesu” -- at exactly seven minutes to the hour-- from the rear balcony of Grace Church below a marvelous Tiffany window of the Ascension, Chanticleer sang Franz Biebl’s “Ave Maria.”</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Then quietly--unobtrusively--they descended the back steps and drove to Harrisburg/ Middletown Airport in view of Three Mile Island and made their return flight to San Francisco.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I had meditated during the Biebl by trying to control my breathing. Under even ordinary circumstances, tears well up in me at the beginning of the "Sancta Maria." I did my best to compartmentalize; for I had to sing in just a few minutes. Cynthia played “Meditation” by Massenet on her violin as Mother had requested. Then after two psalms read by my niece Morgan and nephew Matthew, I sang Gounod’s “Repentance” as Mother had made me promise when I was twelve. I got through the recitative. But when I started the main theme “Oh, Divine Redeemer,” I began to sound like Alfalfa in “The Little Rascals.” I didn’t stop singing. But there was a quiver in my voice I had never experienced before.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Chanticleer had sung the Biebl at Louis Botto’s funeral service at St. Dominic’s. That was a powerfully emotional occasion--only days before Louis’ birthday. Joseph Jennings demonstrated then what I experienced internally at my Mother’s service.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">When Chanticleer undertook its second national tour, we sang at the Forum in Harrisburg. Afterwards my parents had a reception for us and Mother baked a surprise hazelnut cake for Louis’ 31st birthday on March 3, 1982.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">My family and I will always be grateful to Chanticleer for playing such a significant part at my Mother’s memorial service.</span></div>
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POTPOURRIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07263407097104630684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186108421792163137.post-13861253411030794512015-03-20T00:01:00.000-07:002015-03-20T00:01:00.475-07:00King Ludwig I of Bavaria Abdicates ~ 1848<div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span">Just after I started working for Customs, Ross and I took our previously planned holiday to Germany. He had studied in Munich, and still had several good friends in the area. We were there for Oktoberfest, which –as you undoubtedly already know— is celebrated in September. That was one of the few times in my life that I have drunk beer, and half enjoyed it. Of course, Bavarian dark beer is very different from standard American varieties.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span">The plan was to visit all of King Ludwig II’s castles – and we nearly did. We saw Hohenschwangau, where Ludwig had spent part of his childhood, at the base of Neuschwanstein, his paean to Ricard Wagner (as well as the model for several Disney castles) and the site of Ludwig’s arrest;</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span">[Years ago, I used to eat Sunday brunch at Café Mozart on Bush Street between services at Grace Cathedral. The owner was a Viennese named Claus. One Christmas, he made a large gingerbread castle in the shape of a familiar landmark. “Oh Claus!” I said “ What a wonderful gingerbread model of Neuschweinstein.” “Neu- SCHWEIN- stein?!!!! Don’t you know the difference between a schwein and a schwan?!!!!” Now, I do.]</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span">Linderhof, with it’s grotto and elevated dining table; and Herrenchiemsee with its copy of the Hall of Mirrors, and two (mind you two—though only one was actually completed) Ambassadors Staircases from Versailles, where the original had been replaced. We also saw the room where Ludwig had been born at Nymphenburg, the lake where he had drowned, and the church in Munich, where he is still buried.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span">In June 2008 the San Francisco Opera premiered a new production of<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> Das Rheingold</span>, the first installment of an an American Western Ring cycle. The complete cycle will premiere summer 2011.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span">Did you know that there may have been a California connection to the first production of Wagner’s Ring Trilogy. (Even though it is four music dramas, it’s considered a trilogy….with a prologue) The connection was Lola Montez, a Spanish dancer, who had had an extended affair with Ludwig II’s grandfather, Ludwig I. In reality, her name was Eliza Gilbert, and she was actually Irish. But she did have an affair with that architecturally crazed monarch. Unlike his grandson, his taste favored neo-classical revival, rather than medieval and baroque. Ross and I visited his large Bavarian maiden— on the edge of the Oktoberfest grounds— which seemed to be a forerunner of the Statue of Liberty.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span">Ludwig the First was so enamored of Lola Montez, that he virtually turned over the state authority to her. For nearly two years, Lola was de facto ruler of Bavaria. "What Lola wants, Lola gets" was originally in reference to her. When Revolution broke out all over Europe in 1848, the people of Bavaria's main grievance against their King, was his affair with Lola. Forced to abdicate, Ludwig left the throne to his son Maximilian II. But then Max died in 1864, leaving the throne to Ludwig I's grandson, Ludwig II.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span">The Wagner connection is this:</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span">Once on the throne, nineteen year old Ludwig II responded to Wagner's published plea for help from a German prince. Richard Wagner had been exiled in Switzerland, both for his 1848 political, and recurring financial, indiscretions. Ludwig paid off Wagner's creditors, welcomed him to Bavaria, and financed productions of Die Meistersinger, Tristan und Isolde, and the completion of the Ring des Nibelungen.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span">So what's the Lola Montez connection? Had it not been for Lola, Ludwig I, no doubt, would have remained on the throne of Bavaria. He lived until 1868— a good twenty years after his abdication. Lola Montez, meanwhile, ended up in Grass Valley, California during the Gold Rush. She died of syphilis, which Ludwig had given her along with jewels and bad poetry. Had there been no Lola Montez, Tristan and Meistersinger might not have been produced at all, and certainly not before 1868 at the earliest. The problem, of course, is when you change one fact in history, you may very well jeopardize multiple subsequent facts. But the fact remains, Ludwig II was Wagner's principal sponsor, and had it not been for him, the general operatic public would very likely never have heard of Brunnhilde.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 78%;">Painting:Joseph Karl Stieler (1781-1858):wikipedia.com</span></div>
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POTPOURRIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07263407097104630684noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186108421792163137.post-63648213138054774332015-03-15T00:01:00.000-07:002015-03-15T00:01:00.091-07:00The IDES of MARCH ~ 44 B.C.E.<div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RMIeFF2Drjg/Sa2EmAAVsGI/AAAAAAAAAsA/gF5p_O7AXMg/s1600-h/julius_caesar.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_RMIeFF2Drjg/Sa2EmAAVsGI/AAAAAAAAAsA/gF5p_O7AXMg/s400/julius_caesar.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309045324110999650" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 285px;" /></a> <br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The Ides of March (</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Latin</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">: Idus Martias) is the name of March 15 in the </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Roman calendar</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">. The term </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">ides</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> was used for the 15th day of the months of </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">March</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">, </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">May</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">, </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">July</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">, and </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">October. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The Ides of March was a festive day dedicated to the god </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Mars</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> and a military parade was usually held. In modern times, the term Ides of March is best known as the date that </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Julius Caesar</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> was assassinated in 709 </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">AUC</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> or 44 B.C.E.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';">In </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';">William Shakespeare</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';">'s play </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';">Julius Caesar</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';">, Caesar is warned to "beware the Ides of March."</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 10;"><span style="font-size: 130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';">Etymology<br />The term idūs (ides) originally referred to the day of the </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';">full moon</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';">. The Romans considered this an auspicious day in their </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';">calendar</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';">. The word ides comes from </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';">Latin</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';">, meaning "half division" (of a month) but is probably of non-</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';">Indo-European</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> origin.</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 10;"><span style="font-size: 130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';">Modern observances<br />The Ides of March is celebrated every year by the Rome </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';">Hash House Harriers</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> with a </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';">toga run</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> in the streets of Rome, in the same place where Julius Caesar was killed.</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 10;"><span style="font-size: 130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';">The Atlanta Chapter of the </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';">Dagorhir Battle Games Association</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> hosts an annual spring event at Red Horse Stables on the weekend closest to the 15th of March. The event is appropriately named "The Ides of March".</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 10;"><span style="font-size: 130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';">The Temple Hill Association in New Windsor, NY holds an annual dinner in honor of the Ides of March because it is also the day that General George Washington quelled a mutiny of his Officers in 1783.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 10;"><span style="font-size: 130%;"><span style="font-size: 78%;">Text:wikipedia.com</span></span></span></div>
POTPOURRIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07263407097104630684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186108421792163137.post-77665782533289310252015-02-23T00:01:00.000-08:002015-02-23T00:01:00.260-08:00JOHN KEATS ~ October 31, 1795 ~ February 23, 1821<div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%;">
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RMIeFF2Drjg/S4HW0avKNaI/AAAAAAAABtI/2SK5TM-lO30/s1600-h/John_Keats_by_William_Hilton.jpg" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RMIeFF2Drjg/S4HW0avKNaI/AAAAAAAABtI/2SK5TM-lO30/s400/John_Keats_by_William_Hilton.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440866020858934690" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 328px;" /></a><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span style="font-size: 0;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">John Keats</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> 31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821) was the latest born of the great </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Romantic</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> poets.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Along with </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Byro</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">n and </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Shelley</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">, he was one of the key figures in the second generation of the movement, despite publishing his work over only a four-year period.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> During his short life, his work was not well received by critics, but his posthumous influence on poets such as </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Alfred Tennyson</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> and </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Wilfred Owen</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> was significant. The poetry of Keats was characterised by sensual imagery, most notably in the series of </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">odes</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> which remain among the most popular poems in </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">English literature</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">. The letters of Keats are among the most celebrated by any English poet.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 78%;">Image & text:wikipedia.com</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: large;">Six years a</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: large;">go October I was in Rome with my sister Julie, brother-in-law Tom Martin, and my good friend Deb Cornue. Debbie and I visited John Keats' final home at the foot of the Spanish Steps. It was extremely moving to be in the room where he died.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I gave an antique leather bound edition of the complete Poems of John Keats to my very good friend Jeffrey Hardy on his 21st birthday back in 1976. John Keats is still one of my favorite poets.</span></span></div>
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POTPOURRIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07263407097104630684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186108421792163137.post-77889258742666230332015-02-22T00:01:00.000-08:002015-02-22T00:01:00.412-08:00JOHN MILHALY & LOUIS BOTTO & FOUNDING OF CHANTICLEER ~ FEBRUARY 22, 1978<div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RMIeFF2Drjg/SZDxFKKhsVI/AAAAAAAAAlw/SvugDG7qUHU/s1600-h/John+Mihaly.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RMIeFF2Drjg/SZDxFKKhsVI/AAAAAAAAAlw/SvugDG7qUHU/s400/John+Mihaly.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301001832345219410" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 338px;" /></a><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RMIeFF2Drjg/SVZa9NtWWPI/AAAAAAAAAdA/5Thp9tD1is4/s1600-h/Chanticleer+10th+anniver(2).jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RMIeFF2Drjg/SVZa9NtWWPI/AAAAAAAAAdA/5Thp9tD1is4/s400/Chanticleer+10th+anniver(2).jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284511220464244978" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 256px;" /></a> <br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Back on the Third Sunday of Advent, December 14, 2008 I wrote about Louis Botto’s and my singing two of the solos in Henry Purcell’s </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Rejoice in the Lord Alway,</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> when our Dean Stanley Rodgers died in the middle of the service at Grace Cathedral. Louis and I had sung several other Purcell solos and duets together. We were the altos in The Community Music Center’s performance of “Come, Ye Sons of Art” back in 1976. (That was when I first met Jonathan Klein, who sang in the chorus.)</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Later we repeated our duet </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Sound the Trumpet</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> in Grace Cathedral Choir’s performance of “Come, Ye Sons of Art.” We alternated singing the other alto solos. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Although </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Chanticleer</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> today always describes Louis as a tenor, in fact, he and I were the original altos in the group. I was first alto and he, second. In those early days we frequently lowered keys for some Renaissance music by as much as a major third. That was until Randy Wong joined and we had our first genuine soprano. I moved up to second soprano; but I really always was just a high alto. (You can hear me on soprano singing with Randy in the Josquin de Pres “Ave Maria” on </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Psallite</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">.) </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I first met Louis in 1974-75 when he moved to San Francisco from Washington D.C. with a law professor, Jerry Witherspoon, who became a professor at Boalt Hall. Jerry had formerly been the president of a small college in Vermont. I think it was Middlebury or Bennington. Anyway, when he came to terms with himself and got divorced, he eventually lived with Louis in D.C.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">They then moved to San Francisco together and lived at the Belgravia Apartments on Sutter Street-- just down the hill from Grace Cathedral. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Louis had been married and divorced, too. I met his former wife, Jan, when </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Chanticleer</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> first sang in Corpus Christi, Texas near the end of the autumn tour in 1981. Louis later married a second time. It was after he broke up with Rick Cohen and needed a place to live. A Japanese photographer at the Fairmont Hotel needed a green card. So they secretly married – and I guess it worked out for the two of them. I can’t remember her name. It was something like Umi.—</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">but that’s not it, sorry. (I do remember that she trained her cat to use the toilet.) </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I’ve jumped ahead.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Louis had just joined the choir at Grace when I met him. He was a graduate student at then Dominican </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">College</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> (now University) in San Rafael. He was studying voice with Marian Marsh, with whom I sang the leads in Handel’s </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Acis and Galatea</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> with Donald Pippin at the Old Spaghetti Factory (now called </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Bocce</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">, where I used to eat lunch between services most Sundays with the Schola Cantorum at the National Shrine of St. Francis of Assisi. Coincidentally, we had at least seven or eight Chanticleer alumni sing with the Schola Cantorum at different times.). Before </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Chanticleer</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">, Louis had a Renaissance trio called </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Unicorn </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">with a soprano named Jill and a lute player. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I remember when Louis met Rick Cohen, who also sang in the choir at Grace.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Rick lived on 20th Street, just a few blocks from me, and used to give me a ride to church on Sundays. And I remember when Rick consulted me as to whether it was right for him to try to woo Louis away from Jerry. I don’t recall exactly what I said.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I do recall being invited to dinner at Louis and Jerry’s at the Belgravia in February or early March 1977. Louis cooked one of his fabulous dinners— that time East Indian. It was then that I was introduced to John Mihaly, and I believe it was at that dinner that I first heard John talk about his idea for a new men’s vocal ensemble that would merge two traditions – the repertoire of the </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">King’s Singers</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">—that quintet of former choral scholars from King’s College Cambridge – and the size and informality of Yale singing groups, of which I was very familiar since I had sung with the Yale </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Spizzwinks</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">. John had just dropped out of Yale Divinity School. I learned from Fenno Heath at the 9Oth Spizzwink Reunion nine years ago that the </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">King’s Singers</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> had been artists in residence at Yale when John was there.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Now officially </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Chanticleer</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> management has asserted that </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Chanticleer </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">was founded by Louis Botto. Certainly, Louis </span><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">made</span></u><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Chanticleer</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">. Without him, we probably would have folded after the second concert. But as I am in a unique position to know, Louis took an idea presented by John Mihaly and ran with it. And even at our first meeting and rehearsal in my dining room on 23rd Street on Wednesday 22 February 1978, the first words were spoken by John Mihaly, not Louis. Of course, this was years before Joseph Jennings joined, or, in fact, anybody else currently connected with </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Chanticleer</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">. But the official line is set. So be it. But I think the </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Chanticleer</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> office should know the truth, if only for themselves. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The awkward part was that John Mihaly wasn’t a particularly good baritone; so we made him our business manager. Regrettably, he turned out to be even worse as a manager. When Tom Hart joined he suggested getting a real business manager in Susan Endrezzi. So we fired our actual founder! </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">From this first-hand experience, I now find myself extremely skeptical of any</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">birth narratives, be they Biblical Gospels or American fables--as in George Washington and that quaint cherry tree (after all, this <em>is</em> Washington's birthday... depending on which calendar you use.... on the old Julian Calendar it was February 11th.) The actual facts are usually too complicated and convoluted; so an official line is adopted -- and for the most part, it generally works. It certainly is simpler. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Personally, I feel that John Mihaly should, at least, be acknowledged for originating the </span><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">idea</span></u><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">of </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Chanticleer</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">. But he seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth. Last heard, he was in upstate New York. And he was always prone to various illnesses; so I doubt he’s still alive.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Again, Louis Botto-- though not the actual founder-- was responsible for making </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Chanticleer</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> what it is today.</span></div>
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POTPOURRIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07263407097104630684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186108421792163137.post-8081708001535242942015-02-20T00:01:00.000-08:002015-02-20T05:51:33.481-08:00FATEFUL RETURN TO TORCELLO<div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RMIeFF2Drjg/SUSqg9PWEEI/AAAAAAAAAWo/QasXw5b2UGk/s1600-h/Dennis" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RMIeFF2Drjg/SUSqg9PWEEI/AAAAAAAAAWo/QasXw5b2UGk/s400/Dennis%27+Bridge.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279532146356523074" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Three years after the Torcello gondola mixup, we returned to Carnevale and Venezia for the last time with our good friends Deb and Joan. Dennis insisted we take a gondola ride on the first Saturday. It was a wonderful ride with a gondolier named Angelo. Afterwards we had hot chocolate at Café Florian. But Dennis became very sick, so we decided to change our plans and forego our planned trip to Rome and stay a few extra days in Venice.<br /><br />Monday 20 February, was supposed to have been our travel day to Rome. Since it was now an extra day, I thought it would be fun and relaxing to take several boat trips to the other islands. That would minimize walking. And I wanted another chance to have a decent visit to Torcello. Before taking the large boat for the connection to Torcello, we came across the painter Picchio Santangelo, who had painted Dennis’ first picture of Venezia back in 2003. (We had had to have it framed twice to look its best in Dennis’ Venetian guest bedroom.)<br /><br />When we got to Burano, our connection was all set to leave. It seemed perfect. We could visit the Byzantine church and 7th Century cathedral in Torcello, then return to Burano for lunch. (Three years before, my apparent mistake had been to have lunch in Burano before going to Torcello, and that had thrown off our schedule, which contributed to the gondola mix-up. This year it really didn’t matter since we had no plans for that night.)<br /><br />When we arrived on Torcello, we discovered that several new restaurants had been built since our last visit. Dennis, Deb and I looked at the various posted menus, and considered changing our plans to have lunch on Torcello. Joan had some mobility issues and walked a little behind us. At least the island was completely flat, and there was only one bridge to cross before reaching the church and cathedral. Deb and I crossed briskly to check out the menu at the Cipriani Inn just before the Byzantine church.<br /><br />We heard Dennis bellow. “Don’t waste your time. They’re closed. It’s open only in the summer!”<br /><br />From behind, Joan saw Dennis raise and shake his walking stick at us.<br /><br />Deb and I turned around….and saw Dennis lying flat on his face on the ground. He had tripped on the very last step. He didn’t make a sound. We rushed over. Blood was gushing from his face!!<br /><br />Immediately, five or six waiters came out from the “closed” Cipriani Inn. A young woman from one of only two concession stands asked if we wanted to call the ambulance boat. I hesitated for a moment, wanting to evaluate the situation first. An older woman from the other concession rushed up with hand embroidered napkins and handkerchiefs and wiped the blood from Dennis’ face— and she wouldn’t accept any payment!!<br /><br />The waiters helped us take Dennis into the lobby of the restaurant and brought a bucket of ice. Meanwhile the young woman had gone ahead and called for the ambulance boat with the emergency number on her telefono.<br /><br />While we waited, Dennis wanted to have some lunch. After some delays, we were seated in the very stylish restaurant. I think we were the only ones there. Dennis insisted on fish soup. I had an expensive Mozzarella Caprese salad, which was absolutely superb. Just as we were served, the ambulance arrived with three hunky Italians. Dennis had only a few bites of his fish soup.<br /><br />The ride back to Venice was very quick, and before we knew it we had landed at the back entrance to the municipal hospital. We were taken to the emergency room, where he registered, and then sat….. and waited.<br /><br />The four of us – Joan, Deb, Dennis and I – sat and talked and tried to amuse ourselves. Of course, we were all very concerned.<br /><br />Smoking wasn’t allowed. Eventually Dennis got extremely agitated. After several hours, he said he wanted to get up and leave. He was sitting in a wheel-chair and his head had been bandaged by the emergency crew.<br /><br />I don’t think Dennis felt how badly he had been hurt. He seemed to be loosing surface sensitivity. Of course, that may have contributed to his fall.<br /><br />Debbie didn’t speak Italian, but she’s quite fluent in Spanish. She noticed the poster on the wall behind Dennis’ wheelchair. It listed sequential priorities for triage. We had waited so long because other patients came after us who were higher up the pyramid.<br /><br />Debbie firmly informed Dennis, that we hadn’t waited all that time for him just to get up and leave – and that if he tried, she’d take physical action – and slug him— to guarantee that he got to a higher level on the triage pyramid.<br /><br />That kept him quiet – and in his wheelchair. Eventually a hospital aide came for Dennis. I accompanied him through several corridors, outside in a drizzle, and upstairs to another area of the hospital, where Dennis had some x-rays, and then another, shorter wait.<br /><br />In the meantime, Deb and Joan decided it was safe to return to the Zatterre. It was after nine o’clock.<br /><br />Although we had been up front with everybody—from the Cipriani waiters, to the emergency crew, and the registry desk at the hospital – the young woman physician, who later examined Dennis without wearing rubber gloves, became quite upset when we told her again that Dennis was HIV+. She disappeared for a while, then had Dennis undergo more blood tests. It should have been standard procedure for any doctor to use rubber gloves, particularly with a patient who had bled so badly.<br /><br />Another doctor saw us and gave Dennis a prescription, and told us to return to the hospital in the morning. We got back to the Don Orione Artigianelli about midnight.<br /><br />Poor Dennis looked as though he had been mugged. By morning both eyes were black and blue, and he had banged up his nose. It was so fortunate his lenses were plastic. Otherwise he might have been blinded by the fall. I still have his glasses with severe scratches.<br /><br />We took the vaporetto to the back entrance of the hospital again. This time he was pushed in his wheel chair to the pharmacia, which was part of the older section of the hospital, formerly the Scuola San Marco. We passed right by the doors which led to the second floor library we had visited three years before. Karen Marshall had recommended seeing its extraordinary ceiling in her suggested list of favorite sites. This time we just passed by.<br /><br />At the pharmacia Dennis picked up some pain pills and antibiotics. The bill was about six euros. That turned out to be the total bill for the entire episode. There was no charge for the ambulance boat, the emergency room or the doctors’ visits! It was all covered by Italian national health care. We have so much to learn from the Europeans!<br /><br />Afterwards we took a mahogany water taxi back to the Zatterre. It was the only time we had ridden in one of those beautiful boats which reminded me of the Thousand Islands and Zavikon.<br /><br />Dennis was apprehensive about taking the antibiotics. His stomach was upset enough, and he was worried it would incapacitate him for the rest of the trip. He had me call one of the nurses at the Kaiser Research Group back in San Francisco. Brooke said he didn’t need to take the antibiotics. (At that point it probably wouldn’t have made much of a difference.)<br /><br />For the rest of the time in Venezia, Dennis wore his cape and plumed hat. Since it was Carnevale, his black and blue face didn’t stand out as anything unusual. It looked like makeup and part of his costume.<br /><br />After three days in Firenze, where Dennis and Joan purchased gold jewelry on the Ponte Vecchio (Dennis bought earrings for all the women in his life including my sisters and nieces) we returned to Venezia for the nighttime gondola ride and dinner. It really wasn’t much of a gondola ride. (The earlier one we had missed in 2003 was a lot longer). And it was very cold. I’m so glad we took the extended gondola trip the Saturday before Dennis’ accident.<br /><br />I returned to Torcello on Thursday August 30th, 2007 with Debbie and Alison. That fulfilled one of my major objectives of the entire memorial trip. We took the larger vaporetto to the Lido and made our connection to Punta Sabbioni. From there we arrived on Burano and took the smaller vaporetto to Torcello. It was a relatively short and flat stroll on the new brick sidewalk and dirt detour to Dennis’ bridge just before the Cipriani hotel and restaurant. We were about the first guests for lunch in the covered patio near the garden. I found a beautiful red rose bush, where I scattered a handful of Dennis. He would have loved to have seen that garden in full bloom.<br /><br />After a superb luncheon, we stopped by the concession stands, which had opened while we were eating. I found the young woman who had called for the water ambulance after Dennis’ fall. She wouldn’t accept any payment, but I bought a number of items from her stand. The older woman, who had wiped Dennis’ face with her hand embroidered napkins wasn’t there, but by chance, her son, daughter-in-law, and grandson stopped by, so we were able to thank them. (For some reason, I neglected to find out their names. Our first night in Firenze, at dinner, we met an American from Queens or Brooklyn, who had lived in Florence for forty years and was a professor of English at the University. Her questions made me recognize my omission. So on my last full day of the holiday on September 11, 2007, I returned to Torcello and learned that the young woman was Marika and the older woman, Anna. Anna was still away in Napoli, but I gave silk scarves from the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul to Marika for her and for Anna, and this time she graciously accepted.)<br /><br />Earlier we had visited the wonderful Greek Orthodox church and splendid cathedral, where Dennis and I had sung a plainsong Salve Regina in 1997. </span></div>
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POTPOURRIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07263407097104630684noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186108421792163137.post-26125091983633330232015-02-19T00:01:00.000-08:002015-02-20T05:52:15.293-08:00TORCELLO<div align="center">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">In 1997 Dennis and I left Rome after the official end of the St. Dominic’s Choir Pilgrimage Tour and spent a few days in Vicenza. Then from Vicenza we took the train to Venezia for our second time together. We stayed two days at a small hotel near San Marco, and later moved to the Artigianelli Monastery in the Zatterre.<br /><br />Dennis was so pleased when we were stopped by some students in a more remote part of the city and were asked to register to vote. In our cordoroys, sensible shoes, wool caps and Barbour coats, we didn’t look like tourists. They actually thought we were Venetians!<br /><br />On our last day of the trip, we took the large water-bus to the island of Torcello, the furthest away from the main city. On the way we stopped at another island and had a terrific lunch at a restaurant apparently frequented by local fishermen. We arrived at Torcello near the end of daylight. It’s perfectly flat and very empty. There wasn’t much there besides an inn run by Cipriani, an old Byzantine church and the original 7th century cathedral. Torcello had been the first settlement for Venice, but was later abandoned because of malaria. Much of the island is now cultivated.<br /><br />We entered the cathedral, which appeared to be empty. Scaffolding blocked an unobstructed view of the apse with its marvelous mosaics of Mary. In the darkened nave, Dennis and I sang a plainsong Salve Regina (one that Dennis had sung regularly at Summer Benedictine Camp). Previously unseen German tourists complimented our singing.<br /><br />We exited the cathedral to see the sun setting over the lagoon. It was a perfect moment. We had time to go back to Venice for dinner before heading off to Milan to catch our flight home the next morning. Instead we decided to collect our things and leave directly for Milano. Nothing could surpass that sublime experience!<br /><br />How different would be the second and third visits to Torcello.<br /><br />While Dennis had been upset that I had paid his way to Italy and Venice in 1997, we returned three more times in 2000, 2003 & 2006.<br /><br />In 2000 we were in Venice just a few foggy, rainy days before starting our Mediterranean cruise out of the port near Rome. We didn’t go back to Torcello then, but we did take the elevator to the top of the campanile by San Marco. (I had been there before in 1979, in much better weather.)<br /><br />In Rome we stayed at a convent just around the corner from Piazza Navona. On the first full day we took a side trip to Subiaco to see the cave where St. Benedict had his extraordinary vision and later founded the Benedictine order. We missed the last bus from town, and ended up walking about three miles up hill. On the way we passed the ruins of one of Nero’s villas, where he committed suicide after being hunted down by his enemies. Dennis was about to give up, but with encouragement we continued to the top. Being there fulfilled one of Dennis’ lifelong goals.<br /><br />In 2003 we had an offer from US Airways for really cheap tickets to Rome, so we decided to go to the opening of Carnevale in Venezia. My niece Allison Martin was studying at Christie’s in London at the time, and we invited her to join us in Venice. Actually, as I recall, the original offer was for inexpensive tickets to London to visit Allison, but Dennis said he’d rather go to Italy.<br /><br />In Venezia we stayed again at the Artigianelli Monastery in the Zattere.We left a message for Allison and her boyfriend at their hotel on the Lido to meet us at Café Florian in Piazza San Marco. They got the message and had already saved us an inside table when we met them.<br /><br />Dennis and I brought 18th Century costumes rented from the Bohemian Club thanks to my friend, John Blauer, head of costumes at the club. We had silk long johns to give a little substance to the clothes designed primarily for indoor productions. Allison and her friend brought costumes from London. We wore them to dinner at a restaurant next to Quadri.<br /><br />We missed the official opening of Carnevale that Sunday in order to visit three Palladian villas in the Veneto. We rented a car which I drove. The tricky part was navigating through Mestre and making connections north. We first went to Villa Cornaro, where we had to make special arrangements for a private tour. We met the young lad at the Palladio Café across the street from the villa. Then we drove to Villa Barbaro with its extraordinary frescos by Veronese and the handsome chapel, where Palladio reportedly died after falling off a scaffold. We saved Villa Emo, Dennis’ favorite, for last. It was a perfectly wonder-filled day!<br /><br />Allison and her friend flew back to London the following morning. Dennis and I had two more days in Venice before returning to Rome on the night train to make our return flight from Leonardo da Vinci. Before leaving on the trip (which we nearly had to cancel because of a severe snow storm which had shut down the entire East Coast from Boston to Atlanta – then at the last minute, were able to make connections to Frankfurt through Pittsburgh PA) Dennis had emailed Karen Marshall with Save Venice in New York. Karen is a marvelous photographer, and Dennis wrote to ask for her suggestions in Venice. I printed out Karen’s email with a list of her favorite places in Venice and decided we should try to visit all of them. That proved to be a major problem and eventual disappointment for Dennis (and for me).<br /><br />We accomplished a great deal on Monday, but Ca’ Rezonico was closed and Dennis just knew it would be one of his favorite places on earth. So we went on Tuesday morning, which threw off our – or my—planned itinerary. Karen had recommended we visit Torcello to climb the campanile, which had just reopened after several years’ restoration. As mentioned earlier, our first visit to Torcello in 1997 had been perfect.<br /><br />On the way, we went to Burano and stayed for lunch. Afterwards we visited the main church, which reopened later than I had thought. By the time we reached Torcello, Dennis was irritated with me and agitated. He wouldn’t climb the campanile. He wouldn’t even go in the cathedral. Fuming, he sat and smoked. I decided we should return to the Zatterre right away. But we had just missed the boat. We waited….and waited ….and Dennis got more and more agitated.<br /><br />His concern was we would be late for our gondola ride to dinner. This was to be our very first gondola ride. Dennis had never before wanted to pay the exorbitant fee. On a regular basis, we had taken traghetti (stand-up gondolas from point A to point B across the Grand Canal) but had never taken a sit-down view-ride up the Grand Canal.<br /><br />Our train to Rome left at midnight, so our plan was to check out of the Artigianelli, leave our luggage by the front desk, and meet the group by the Gritti Palace vaporetto stop for the costumed ride to dinner.<br /><br />We finally made our connections, returned to the monastery, and changed clothes with about fifteen minutes to spare to join the group. On the vaporetto we saw an American couple dressed in bumblebee costumes and asked them which location was the Gritti Palace stop. I should have asked where they were heading.<br /><br />We got off. Nobody was there!!!<br /><br />A lesson I’ve since learned is never to trust a web-site itinerary without first checking for any changes at the actual site. I had a printout of the scheduled event back when Dennis reserved it online. But details of the meeting place had changed without our knowledge.<br /><br />We waited and waited. I checked with the doorman at the Gritti Palace Hotel. He knew nothing. (The event planners should have notified him!)<br /><br />We fretted and walked around. After three quarters of an hour we both decided to try to find the restaurant near the fish market on the other side of the Rialto Bridge. We had already missed our paid gondola ride up the Grand Canal!<br /><br />Eventually we found the restaurant and learned that they had waited about half an hour for us at the very next vaporetto stop by Harry’s Bar. We must have just missed seeing them going up the Grand Canal where we could have hailed them.<br /><br />Dinner had already begun. People were in fine and colorful costumes. The bumblebee couple was sitting at the next table. Dennis seemed amazingly calm and carried on delightful conversations with everybody at our table. I was morose—and ended up getting quite drunk on wine.<br /><br />After dinner we took the vaporetto back to the Accademia stop to go to the Artigianelli, change clothes, pick up our bags, and head to the stazione for our midnight train to Rome.<br /><br />Although I had used the John at the restaurant, I badly needed to go again! But all the public restrooms were closed and padlocked. I couldn’t wait to make the Artigianelli, so in desperation I went to a calle near the Accademia Bridge to relieve myself. As drunk as I was— I was still ashamed— but couldn’t help myself.<br /><br />At last we got on the train. It was filled with Italian soldiers, some of whom were coughing repeatedly. I didn’t sleep at all that night ---and ended up getting bronchitis after our return to San Francisco.<br /><br />In Rome we checked into the Istituto Santa Giulianna Falconieri, the convent around the corner from Piazza Navona. We spent the entire day in the Piazza. Dennis smoked—and we both drank strong Italian coffee. Dennis struck up conversations with several painters. He bought one handsome painting of Venice by Alberto Tropeo (who later painted the marvelous commissioned portrait of India Pudding). I bought another view of Venice from him, also a painting of Piazza Navona itself.<br /><br />In Venice, Dennis had bought his first painting of Venezia when I went to the train station to get a new transit card. I had lost my VeniceCard (good for transportation, some museums, and rest rooms) at a rest stop after we had reserved the rental car for the Sunday we visited the three Palladian villas. Dennis was quite amused at my predicament. You must purchase the all-inclusive VeniceCard out of the country, so I had to settle for a transit card alone. While I was gone, Dennis drank bottled Bellini cocktails in Piazza San Marco, and bought his painting of Venice from Picchio Santangelo (the same artist from whom he would later buy four paintings on our last day in Venice 28 February 2006). This painting had a wonderful sky, but the figures in the foreground were rather primitive.<br /><br />When I returned with my new transit card, Dennis told me he had bought a painting, but that I couldn’t look at it until we got home – that this was a “Yes, Dear” moment.<br /><br />Back in Rome, we headed to the Stazione Termini to take the train to the airport. We had plenty of time to make the flight. But what should have taken about an hour ended up being closer to three. We later heard that a young girl had been hit by a train! We just made the flight as the gate was closing. After 9/11 that wouldn’t have worked. (In October 2006 Dennis and I flew to Phoenix Arizona for Carl Noelke’s installation in the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem. I had suggested taking BART to SFO. We were delayed three quarters of an hour near Daly City for construction and missed our plane even though we arrived 25 minutes before takeoff.)<br /><br />On the flight from Rome, I struck up a conversation with a young American woman who was returning with her husband from their honeymoon in Italy. I related the story of our missed gondola ride. When the young woman got up to stretch her legs, Dennis turned to me very seriously and declared that he never wanted me to talk about that again – he never wanted to hear about it from any of our friends, especially Deb – that it was as painful to hear it retold, as it had been to experience it in the first place.<br /><br />For several years I never did……..until Dennis was dying. </span></div>
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POTPOURRIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07263407097104630684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186108421792163137.post-85012304299649674182015-02-16T00:01:00.000-08:002015-02-16T00:01:00.115-08:00TUTANKHAMUN TOMB UNSEALED ~ February 16, 1923<div>
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RMIeFF2Drjg/S1eW1f5_OWI/AAAAAAAABsY/8kbjEtWf0vI/s1600-h/Tuthankhamun_Egyptian_Museum.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RMIeFF2Drjg/S1eW1f5_OWI/AAAAAAAABsY/8kbjEtWf0vI/s320/Tuthankhamun_Egyptian_Museum.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428973721660373346" style="cursor: hand; float: right; height: 320px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 222px;" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">1923 – Howard Carter unseals the burial chamber of Pharaoh Tutankhamun.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">Tutankhamun </span><span style="font-size: 130%;">(1341 BC – 1323 BC) was an </span><span style="font-size: 130%;">Egyptian</span><span style="font-size: 130%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 130%;">pharaoh</span><span style="font-size: 130%;"> of the </span><span style="font-size: 130%;">18th dynasty</span><span style="font-size: 130%;"> (ruled 1333 BC – 1324 BC in the conventional chronology), during the period of </span><span style="font-size: 130%;">Egyptian history</span><span style="font-size: 130%;"> known as the </span><span style="font-size: 130%;">New Kingdom</span><span style="font-size: 130%;">. His original name, Tutankhaten, means "Living Image of </span><span style="font-size: 130%;">Aten</span><span style="font-size: 130%;">", while Tutankhamun means "Living Image of </span><span style="font-size: 130%;">Amun</span><span style="font-size: 130%;">".</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">Often the name Tutankhamun was written Amen-tut-ankh, due to scribal custom which most often placed the divine name at the beginning of the phrase in order to honor the divine being. </span><span style="font-size: 130%;">He is possibly also the Nibhurrereya of the </span><span style="font-size: 130%;">Amarna letters</span><span style="font-size: 130%;">. He was likely the </span><span style="font-size: 130%;">18th dynasty</span><span style="font-size: 130%;"> king 'Rathotis' who, according to </span><span style="font-size: 130%;">Manetho</span><span style="font-size: 130%;">, an ancient historian, had reigned for nine years — a figure which conforms with </span><span style="font-size: 130%;">Flavius Josephus's</span><span style="font-size: 130%;"> version of Manetho's Epitome.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">The 1922 discovery by </span><span style="font-size: 130%;">Howard Carter</span><span style="font-size: 130%;"> of </span><span style="font-size: 130%;">Tutankhamun's intact tomb</span><span style="font-size: 130%;"> received worldwide press coverage and sparked a renewed public interest in </span><span style="font-size: 130%;">ancient Egypt</span><span style="font-size: 130%;">, for which Tutankhamun's </span><span style="font-size: 130%;">burial mask</span><span style="font-size: 130%;"> remains the popular face.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">Tutankhamun seems to have faded from public consciousness in Ancient Egypt within a short time after his death, and he remained virtually unknown until the early twentieth century. His tomb was robbed at least twice in antiquity, but based on the items taken (including perishable oils and perfumes) and the evidence of restoration of the tomb after the intrusions, it seems clear that these robberies took place within several months at most of the initial burial. Eventually the location of the tomb was lost because it had come to be buried by stone chips from subsequent tombs, either dumped there or washed there by floods. In the years that followed, some huts for workers were built over the tomb entrance, clearly not knowing what lay beneath. When at the end of the twentieth dynasty the Valley of the Kings burials were systematically dismantled, the burial of Tutankhamun was overlooked, presumably because knowledge of it had been lost and his name may have been forgotten.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">For many years, rumors of a "</span><span style="font-size: 130%;">Curse of the Pharaohs</span><span style="font-size: 130%;">" (probably fueled by newspapers seeking sales at the time of the discovery) persisted, emphasizing the early death of some of those who had first entered the tomb. However, a recent study of journals and death records indicates no </span><span style="font-size: 130%;">statistical</span><span style="font-size: 130%;"> difference between the age of death of those who entered the tomb and those on the expedition who did not. Indeed, most lived past seventy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 78%;">Image & Text:wikipedia.com</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">A few years ago the De Young Museum in San Francisco had a Tutankhamen Exhibit. My nephew Sheridan and his wife Sylvie saw it when they were here five years ago last July. They weren't so impressed. It wasn't a very large show. I saw the same exhibit at the Franklin Institute in Philadelphia five years ago last May when I was East for the Point to Point horse race in Wilmington, Delaware. On my free Monday I had planned to go into NYC to see the Venetian show at the Met, but since it was closed on Mondays, I went to the King Tut show instead. (It turned out I was able to see the Venice & Islam Exhibit at the Doges' Palace in Venice a few months later. It couldn't have worked out better!)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">I was glad to see the Tutankhamen show in Philadelphia; but it wasn't as extensive as two previous ones I had seen. The first was at the Franklin Institute in the mid 1960's when the impressive throne-like chair was featured. The second was at the old DeYoung Museum here in San Francisco thirty-three years ago. It was a far more extensive exhibit. It featured the glorious golden mask, frequently shown as the cover shot on countless books.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 78%;">Amr Nabil/Associated Press<br />People crowd around the golden mask of King Tutankhamun at the Egyptian museum in Cairo earlier this month.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">I had gone to that show twice before with incredibly bothersome crowds, before <em>Chanticleer</em> (then in its first year) was asked to sing at a cocktail party for then new mayor Dianne Feinstein in a tent outside the DeYoung. We sang in horrible acoustics with a single hand held mic. It was totally useless...BUT as an unanticipated consequence, the twelve of us --in white tie and tails-- had the splendid opportunity to walk through the exhibit entirely by ourselves (of course with the standard number of security guards keeping watch over the priceless objects).</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">I was then able to figure out why the golden mask was so deep. It wasn't like a Venetian Carnevale mask as I had thought; that is, the mask was not directly on top of Tutankhamen's face. Instead, the mummy's head was at the very back of the headdress -- at least over a foot away. I had never gotten close enough to see that when I had gone to the exhibit with the crush of crowds. With that in mind, I may bypass this time around, since it is rather expensive, and I've already seen it in Philadelphia.</span></div>
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By JOHN NOBLE WILFORD<br />
Published: February 16, 2010 <em>New York Times</em></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">King Tutankhamun, the boy pharaoh, was frail, crippled and suffered “multiple disorders” when he died at age 19 in about 1324 B.C., but scientists have now determined the most likely agents of death: a severe bout of malaria combined with a degenerative bone condition.<br /><br />Scientists have now determined that the boy pharaoh most likely died of a severe bout of malaria combined with a degenerative bone condition.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The researchers said that to their knowledge “this is the oldest genetic proof of malaria in precisely dated mummies.” Several other mummies in the study also showed DNA evidence for the presence of the malaria parasite Plasmodium falciparum, perhaps not surprising in a place like the Nile Valley.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The application of advanced radiological and genetic techniques to royal Egyptian mummies marks a new step in the ever deepening reach of historical inquiry through science.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The study, reported Tuesday, turned up no evidence of foul play, as had been suspected by some historians and popular writers familiar with palace intrigues in ancient Egypt. Previous examinations of the Tut mummy had revealed a recent leg fracture, possibly from a fall. This might have contributed to a life-threatening condition in an immune system already weakened by malaria and other disorders, the researchers said.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">In addition, genetic “fingerprinting” of the 11 mummies in the study established family connections over five generations of Tut’s lineage. The identities were previously certain for only three of the mummies. Now, scientists said the tests identified the ones of Tut’s father, mother and grandmother and other probable relatives.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The two-year investigation, completed last October, is described in the current issue of the Journal of the American Medical Association. The research was directed by Zahi Hawass, an Egyptologist who heads the Supreme Council of Antiquities in Cairo, and included medical scientists and anthropologists from Egypt, Germany and Italy. Carsten M. Pusch of the Institute of Human Genetics at the University of Tübingen, in Germany, was the report’s corresponding author.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">In an accompanying editorial in the journal, Dr. Howard Markel of the Center for the History of Medicine at the University of Michigan, who was not involved in the study, praised the thoroughness of the new research “based on unfettered access to the actual mummies.”</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Recalling the myriad postmortem claims that have surrounded the young king, Dr. Markel suggested that now “the legion of Tutankhamun admirers might be well advised to reconsider several existing theories.”</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">A two-part program, “King Tut Unwrapped,” will be shown on the Discovery Channel on Sunday and Monday. Dr. Hawass and others will discuss the new findings.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Though not one of the great rulers of ancient Egypt, King Tut is easily the best known in public lore. He was the son and successor of Akhenaten, the controversial reform pharaoh who ruled from about 1351 to 1334 B.C.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The British archaeologist Howard Carter’s discovery in 1922 of Tut’s opulent tomb in the Valley of the Kings was a sensation. The young king’s visage and premature death in the ninth year of his reign inspired fanciful speculation, and the golden and bejeweled artifacts from his tomb still dazzle crowds at touring museum exhibitions.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">One overall impression from the new research is that the royal family’s power and wealth did not spare them from ill health and physical impairment. Several mummies revealed instances of cleft palate, clubfeet, flat feet and bone degeneration. Four of the 11 mummies, including Tut’s, contained genetic traces of malaria tropica, the most severe form of the infection.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The researchers said that several other pathologies were diagnosed in the Tut mummy, including a bone disorder known as Kohler disease II, which alone would not have caused death. But he was also afflicted with avascular bone necrosis, a condition in which diminished blood supply to the bone leads to serious weakening or destruction of tissue. The finding led to the team’s conclusion that it and malaria were the most probable causes of death.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The effects of this bone disease, notably the “definitely altered structure” of the left foot, probably explained the presence of walking canes in the Tut tomb, the researchers said.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Speculation had also centered on the fact that Tutankhamun left no heirs and the stylized reliefs and other sculptures of him and family members showed them having a somewhat feminized or androgynous appearance. This suggested certain inherited syndromes, including gynecomastia, which is the excessive development of breasts in men, usually the result of a hormonal imbalance.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The breasts of Akhenaten and Tutankhamun were not preserved. But Tut’s penis, no longer attached to the body, “is well developed,” the researchers reported.<br />“Most of the disease diagnoses,” the scientists concluded, “are hypotheses derived by observing and interpreting artifacts and not by evaluating the mummified remains of royal individuals apart from these artifacts.”</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Dr. Markel, the medical historian, commented that use of 21st century radiological and genetic techniques in studies of human history raised ethical questions that need to be addressed.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Writing in the journal, he asked: “What will the rules be for exhuming bodies to solve vexing pathological puzzles? Are major historical figures entitled to the same privacy rules that private citizens enjoy even after death? Most pragmatically, what is actually gained from such studies? Will they change current thinking about and prevent threatening diseases such as influenza? Will they change the understanding of the past, such as the Jefferson study’s powerful elucidation of intimacy during the era of slavery and the Tutankhamun study’s window on the conduct of the royal family of Egypt?”</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">My facebook friend Damian Lin from Taipei Taiwan planned last year's mid-winter holiday months before and arrived in Cairo on the second Saturday of the political unrest. Of course he had hoped to visit the pyramids, the Valley of the Kings, and the Egyptian Museum with the Tutankhamun exhibit. Instead I think he spent two days at the airport before leaving for Jordan. At least he was able to visit Petra.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Today is also my niece Morgan's birthday. I wish her well, and a great new year! Her birthday is usually around Chinese New Year and in fact she was born in Taiwan, when my brother Sherry was in the U.S. Information Service</span><span style="font-size: 130%;">.</span></div>
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POTPOURRIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07263407097104630684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186108421792163137.post-11011432076983669382015-02-15T00:01:00.000-08:002015-02-15T03:47:46.226-08:00CITY HALL 2004<div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Since our expected reserved time on Sunday was in the mid afternoon, I decided to go to St. Francis in the morning, but leave near the end of Mass and sign out from Vespers. I told everybody I had to leave early, ‘cuz I was getting married! I took a taxi to City Hall.<br /><br />Dennis saw our friend, Carl N, and asked him if he wanted to be our witness. Carl was heading for another appointment. As a lawyer, he wasn’t sure that what we were planning to do was legal. He said he didn’t approve of the Mayor’s stand – but then added, that to us he extended “loving disapproval.”<br /><br />The entire afternoon was cinematically magical. We waited in line to get a marriage license, then waited again for the actual ceremony. Multiple marriages were occurring simultaneously at different locations throughout City Hall. Our time came and we headed to the top of the staircase just outside the door to the Supervisors’ chambers.<br /><br />A city volunteer conducted the ceremony. A tall handsome guy named Michael acted as our witness. Dennis asked him if he was going to get married. Michael replied that he didn’t even have a boyfriend – but he wanted to do his part. After the simple ceremony, and exchange of rings, we waited in line again to register our marriage. All the city employees working that weekend had volunteered their time, and this was a three-day weekend (with President’s Day holiday on Monday)!<br /><br />Then Dennis and I went to his beloved cream-colored Fiat Spyder convertible. We put the top down— even with a slight drizzle— and drove several times around City Hall and honked our horn at the huge line of people still waiting. Dennis had attached coke cans and a pair of old red high heels donated by our eighty-year old upstairs neighbor, Dorothy Chursin (greatly adored by Rose and Rupert, for tossing dog biscuits from her third story window on mornings when I have the discipline to get up in time to wait for her).<br /><br />At home we had an elegant dinner in the red room with champagne, pate, filet mignon, artichokes, pinot noir, and a special fruit topped cake for dessert.<br /><br />Later Dennis sent our rings to be engraved with our initials and the date 02/15/2004 at Tiffany’s in New York. (I wore both rings on my right hand. They looked like a single ring. Occasionally I used them as guard rings with Dennis’ brown diamond, that is until we were robbed of some silver and jewelry when I was on vacation two years ago.)<br /><br />A few days later, we decided it would be a good idea to register as Domestic Partners with the State of California. (That turned out to be very important following Dennis’ death when I was able to avoid going through probate.) </span></div>
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POTPOURRIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07263407097104630684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186108421792163137.post-56620117959469190272015-02-14T00:01:00.000-08:002015-02-14T00:01:00.196-08:00VALENTINE'S DAY<div>
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<span style="font-size: 0;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Photo:hlconcepts.biz</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 0;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Dennis and I became an item after our dinner on January 17th 1986, and things were wonderful between us until I let him know that I wouldn’t be in town for Valentine’s Day. I had planned to go back to New Haven for the 125th anniversary of the Yale Glee Club. Dennis was crushed. But he soon got over it and said we’d have dinner on my return. I was planning to be back Monday night and said I’d come over, but Dennis preferred to wait until Tuesday night.<br /><br />The Glee Club reunion was a lot of fun, and it was the last time I stayed with Marie Bronson at her home at 32 Marvel Road near the Yale Bowl before she moved to a retirement community in Hartford. When I returned I found six Valentines from Dennis, plus a formal invitation to dinner on Tuesday. It was on one of those partially pre-printed cards with Mr. so & so requests the pleasure of such & such, and, of course, RSVP. The next day I received three more Valentines.<br /><br />Tuesday night I showed up at Dennis’ door on McAllister Street at eight o’clock, the appointed time. I think I was wearing a coat and tie. Dennis was most likely in a bow tie.<br /><br />We had dinner in Dennis’ beautiful yellow bedroom with the rose pattern window seat (where Nell had given birth to her five puppies) and the handsome mahogany poster bed. (Dennis complained for years that I wouldn’t allow him to paint the front room on 23rd Street yellow – it was a subtle mauve grey— but eventually after eighteen years he got his way.)<br /><br />Dennis had set up a table-round with a tablecloth to the floor. I don’t remember the entire menu, but think we started with champagne and oysters on the half shell. The main course was a poached chicken breast with a flower design on the glaze top. It was all very beautiful and cooked to perfection. Afterwards we had a mixed salad and chocolate torte with strawberries. The wine was a good California chardonnay followed by port and decaf coffee with dessert. The background music was Baroque— probably Vivaldi.<br /><br />After-dinner was so convenient. After all, we were already in the bedroom. I think the three dogs had been in the room at dinner. Now Dennis put the puppies in their airline kennel.<br /><br />Dennis pulled back the comforter. Immediately I burst out laughing. The flowered sheets were strewn with pink and yellow rose-petals. It was one of the most romantic evenings of my life. (Coincidentally, rose-petals stain sheets. I don’t think we ever got them completely out.)<br /><br />In February 2004 I was in rehearsal for the winter play “I Never Sang for my Father” directed by Peter Divine. Mayor Gavin Newsom had only been in office a few weeks, when he announced that he would sponsor same-sex weddings at San Francisco City Hall. Reportedly this came about because a woman on his staff requested a City Hall marriage and the new Mayor determined if he allowed it for her, he’d have to open it up to the general Gay community.<br /><br />The first registrations took place on February 12th and the newspapers reported that they would continue through the close of business on Friday February 13th. Dennis and I talked about the events at City Hall at dinner that Friday night, but it seemed as though we were too late even to consider registering.<br /><br />I was also ambivalent -- since Dennis had pulled out of Project Jonathan and David, our planned same-sex blessing at Grace Cathedral seven years before (just before we went to Italy on the St. Dominic’s Choir concert tour -- he was angry that I had committed to the trip before consulting him, and felt that I had spent the money we would have used for a reception after the proposed blessing -- but it was a marvelous holiday in Italy with a second time together in Venice!).<br /><br />Saturday was Valentine’s Day. I gave Dennis several Valentine cards at breakfast, and then headed to the Club for my rehearsal.<br /><br />We had only recently acquired cell phones (after a logistical mix-up with my nephew, Sheridan, when he was in the Bay Area recording live CDs as a concession at Grateful Dead concerts—and we concluded that cell phones would be a great way to keep track of each other at large events and on vacations.)<br /><br />In the middle of my rehearsal, I felt a vibration on my phone. At a break I returned Dennis’ call. He was not satisfied with the newspaper report that registration had ended the night before, and had gone down to City Hall to check it out.<br /><br />On the phone, Dennis asked me if I would marry him. I answered: “Of course!!”(What else could I say?) He said to meet him at Tiffany’s.<br /><br />As soon as my rehearsal ended, I headed off to Union Square and met Dennis in the ring department in the front room of Tiffany & Co. His former co-worker Benjie showed us rings. There had been a run on gold wedding bands, and there were only a few left in our size. We got matching slender gold rings (in Tiffany blue boxes, of course) and went home to change.<br /><br />I showered and shaved and dressed in grey flannels and navy blazer with a blue and gold Venetian tie. Dennis was in a double-breasted navy blazer with a different color Lion of St. Mark’s tie. We took BART to Civic Center and waited in the line several blocks around City Hall. After about three or four hours, a young woman came up and told us that we would need to return tomorrow, but gave us a number. (To be continued tomorrow)<br /><br />The day before we left for Venice on February 15th 2006, he gave me two Valentines. They were inscribed: “Forever, Dennis.”</span></span></div>
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POTPOURRIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07263407097104630684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186108421792163137.post-79555582118014841632015-02-13T00:01:00.000-08:002015-02-13T00:01:00.542-08:00In Memorium ~ RICHARD WAGNER 1883<div align="center">
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">Wilhelm Richard Wagner (22 May 1813 – 13 February 1883) was a German composer, conductor, theatre director and essayist, primarily known for his operas (or "music dramas", as they were later called). Unlike most other opera composers, Wagner wrote both the music and libretto for every one of his works.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">Wagner's compositions, particularly those of his later period, are notable for contrapuntal texture, rich chromaticism, harmonies and orchestration, and elaborate use of leitmotifs: musical themes associated with particular characters, locales or plot elements. Wagner pioneered advances in musical language, such as extreme chromaticism and quickly shifting tonal centres, which greatly influenced the development of European classical music.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">He transformed musical thought through his idea of Gesamtkunstwerk ("total artwork"), the synthesis of all the poetic, visual, musical and dramatic arts, epitomized by his monumental four-opera cycle <em>Der Ring des Nibelungen</em> (1876). To try to stage these works as he imagined them, Wagner built his own opera house, the Bayreuth Festspielhaus.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">In 1871, he decided on the small town of Bayreuth as the location of his new opera house. The Wagners moved there the following year, and the foundation stone for the Bayreuth Festspielhaus ("Festival Theatre") was laid. In order to raise funds for the construction, "Wagner Societies" were formed in several cities, and Wagner himself began touring Germany conducting concerts. However, sufficient funds were raised only after King Ludwig stepped in with another large grant in 1874. Later that year, the Wagners moved into their permanent home at Bayreuth, a villa that Richard dubbed Wahnfried ("Peace/freedom from delusion/madness", in German).</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">The Festspielhaus finally opened in August 1876 with the premiere of the Ring cycle and has continued to be the site of the Bayreuth Festival ever since.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">Following the first Bayreuth festival Wagner spent a great deal of time in Italy where he began work on <em>Parsifal</em>, his final opera. The composition took four years, during which he also wrote a series of increasingly reactionary essays on religion and art.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">Wagner completed <em>Parsifal</em> in January 1882, and a second Bayreuth Festival was held for the new opera. Wagner was by this time extremely ill, having suffered through a series of increasingly severe angina attacks. During the sixteenth and final performance of Parsifal on 29 August, he secretly entered the pit during Act III, took the baton from conductor Hermann Levi, and led the performance to its conclusion.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">After the Festival, the Wagner family journeyed to Venice for the winter. On 13 February 1883, Richard Wagner died of a heart attack at Ca' Vendramin Calergi, a 16th century palazzo [today the winter gambling Casino] on the Grand Canal. His body was returned to Bayreuth and buried in the garden of the Villa Wahnfried.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">Franz Liszt's memorable piece for pianoforte solo, <em>La lugubre gondola,</em> evokes the passing of a black-shrouded funerary gondola bearing Richard Wagner's remains over the Grand Canal.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 130%;"><span style="font-size: 78%;">Text:wikipedia.com</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">I joined the Northern California chapter of the Wagner Society a few years ago primarily so that I might be able to go to Bayreuth some day. Otherwise, it would be totally out of reach.</span></div>
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POTPOURRIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07263407097104630684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186108421792163137.post-79715481801298357822015-02-12T00:04:00.000-08:002015-02-12T00:04:00.514-08:00ABRAHAM LINCOLN ~~ February 12, 1809 ~~ April 15, 1865<div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 78%;">Photo:</span><span style="color: #333333; font-size: 78%;">sonofthesouth.net/slavery/abraham-lincoln</span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 130%;">With malice toward none; with charity for all; </span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 130%;">with firmness in the right, </span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 130%;">as God gives us to see the right, </span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 130%;">let us strive on to finish the work we are in; </span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 130%;">to bind up the nation's wounds; </span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 130%;">to care for him who shall have borne the battle, </span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 130%;">and for his widow, and his orphan--</span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 130%;">to do all which may achieve and cherish </span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 130%;">a just and lasting peace, </span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 130%;">among ourselves, </span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 130%;">and with all nations.</span></div>
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Lincoln's Second Inaugural Address ~ March 4, 1865</div>
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POTPOURRIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07263407097104630684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186108421792163137.post-14956268721844004002015-02-10T00:01:00.000-08:002015-02-11T01:48:59.463-08:00JEFFREY DAVID HARDY<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RMIeFF2Drjg/SZDwQRUsbII/AAAAAAAAAlo/j-DnqUyh5Jg/s1600-h/Jeffrey.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RMIeFF2Drjg/SZDwQRUsbII/AAAAAAAAAlo/j-DnqUyh5Jg/s400/Jeffrey.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301000923733847170" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 307px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: large;">Today is my friend Jeffrey David Hardy’s birthday. He’s been one of my longest lasting friends for over thirty-nine years. (I’ve had a few other long lasting friendships, but unfortunately several of those close friends have already departed this life.) </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: large;">After going home for Christmas in 1975, I returned to learn that my promised re-hiring at Discount Records had been cancelled. (I had recently resigned from my job as an underwriter with the California State Automobile Association.) Columbia Records had sold the company, and was about to close one of its stores. So I was unemployed for several months. There was a severe drought that year. I ended up getting a great winter tan. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: large;">In the middle of January, I had dinner with someone I had met in Harrisburg. I think he worked for the State of PA, but forget his name. He was in San Francisco on a short holiday. He lived in Harrisburg. His partner worked in Philadelphia. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: large; font-weight: normal;">On my way back to BART, a young man dropped his change at Powell and Market. I picked it up to give back to him. He then offered me a ride home in his car. That’s how I met Jeffrey Hardy on January 17, 1976— the date of his parents’ wedding anniversary –though with the international dateline, the day after his parents’ in Brisbane, Queensland Australia. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: large;">I took Jeffrey out to dinner on February 9th, the night before his 21st birthday. I gave him a vintage leather bound edition of poetry by John Keats.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: large;">As an encore for my senior recital at Yale, I had done my record store vocal impressions routine ending as the nun in “Climb Ev’ry Mountain.” Years later I sang it on the street for Jeffrey, the night before his 21st Birthday. He liked it so much, that when Randy Wong and I visited him in London in the early 80’s, he asked me to sing it after lunch for Rachel Kempson (Vanessa Redgrave’s mother) and Noel Coward’s former secretary, whose name I’m sorry to say I don’t recall. [I originally wrote this on 26 May 2003, the 30th anniversary of my arrival in San Francisco. That morning's <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">New York Times </i>reported that Rachel Kempson had died on Saturday. I sent an email with a copy of the obituary to Jeffrey in Australia. He later responded that he had heard by phone, but thanked me for sending him his first newspaper account.]</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: large;">Returning to 1976: Jeffrey was in the New Shakespeare Company, which rehearsed in a side chapel at Trinity Episcopal Church on Gough Street. The director was a real witch, named Roma. She had been an inmate in a concentration camp during the war, and evidently had identified with her captors, according to Jeffrey. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: large;">In March I finally got a job in the display department at W. & J. Sloane. After the frustrations at CSAA, I liked the discrete projects – with deadlines, and concrete results. (Little did I realize then, that my eventual major career at Customs would have similar frustrations.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: large;">A few months after the founding of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Chanticleer</i>, Dad came to visit me in October 1978, before going to a recovery conference in Seattle. Dad met Gary Murakami, who had been apprehensive about meeting him, particularly in light of Dad’s new career, running an alcohol recovery program. But they liked each other immediately, and enjoyed the lunch and dinner we shared. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-weight: normal;">The night before I left for my first trip to England—and Dad, to Seattle— he and I had dinner at the Adriatic, a fish restaurant on Polk Street, (where Dennis and I first had dinner in 1980, before going to see –of all things— the movie “Airplane” or “Ordinary People” –our first casual nights out together).</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-weight: normal;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: large;">The next morning, Dad and I took BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) to Powell Street with our luggage and walked to the old Airporter Bus Terminal, the site of the main lobby of the Hilton today. It seems strange we didn’t take a taxi; but that’s what I remember doing. This was even before SuperShuttle.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: large; font-weight: normal;">In England I visited my friend Jeffrey Hardy, who then was an actor at the Redgrave Repertory Theatre in Farnham, Surrey. I saw him in a performance of Tom Stoppard’s play “Jumpers.” I recall that I stayed with him at the home of a Miss Titmarsh, and used Farnham as my base for going around England. I went as far north as Edinburgh, and had lovely days in York, Cambridge (to hear the choirs at Kings College and St. Johns) Oxford, and London, of course, for St. Paul’s, Temple Church and Westminster Abbey— the National Gallery, Tate, British Museum and the V & A.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I took a boat trip to Greenwich, and enjoyed a beautiful Sunday at Canterbury Cathedral. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Jeffrey is a direct descendant of Captain Hardy in whose arms Lord Horatio Nelson died after the Battle of Trafalgar. (I wrote about that in my post on 10/21/08.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: large; font-weight: normal;">Jeffrey lived in London for many years. Dennis and I visited him twice and stayed at his home near Clapham Common. Later Jeffrey returned to Australia, went to law school and became a solicitor in the maritime section for the Queensland government. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Jeffrey and I have several things in common: we're both the youngest of four children-- with two sisters and one brother-- and our mothers were partially deaf.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Jeffrey now lives in New York City. He won a green card lottery a few years ago. Jeffrey passed the New York State Bar exam and just recently became a U.S. citizen. I attended his wedding to the beautiful and talented Shana Farr a year ago last June in New York. And a few months ago they welcomed their son, Austin.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Best wishes to a dear friend on his birthday!</span></div>
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POTPOURRIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07263407097104630684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186108421792163137.post-78455938516896124772015-02-09T00:01:00.000-08:002015-02-11T01:45:46.176-08:00John Quincy Adams Elected President by the U.S. House of Representatives ~ February 9, 1825<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RMIeFF2Drjg/S1Cum4B2_pI/AAAAAAAABsI/lyjJiN7JP0I/s1600-h/John_Q._Adams.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_RMIeFF2Drjg/S1Cum4B2_pI/AAAAAAAABsI/lyjJiN7JP0I/s400/John_Q._Adams.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427029533879893650" style="cursor: hand; float: right; height: 400px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 295px;" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">After no presidential candidate received a majority of electoral votes, the United States House of Representatives elected John Quincy Adams President of the United States on February 9, 1825.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">John Quincy Adams (July 11, 1767 – February 23, 1848) was the sixth President of the United States from March 4, 1825 to March 4, 1829. He was also an American diplomat and served in both the Senate and House of Representatives. He was a member of the Federalist, Democratic-Republican, National Republican, and later Anti-Masonic and Whig parties.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">Adams was the son of the second President John Adams and his wife Abigail Adams, the name "Quincy" having come from Abigail's maternal grandfather, Colonel John Quincy, after whom Quincy, Massachusetts is also named. As a diplomat, he was involved in many international negotiations, and helped formulate the Monroe Doctrine as Secretary of State. As president he proposed a program of modernization and educational advancement, but was stymied by Congress. Adams lost his 1828 bid for re-election to Andrew Jackson.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">Adams was elected a U.S. Representative from Massachusetts after leaving office, the only president ever to do so, serving for the last 17 years of his life. In the House he became a leading opponent of the Slave Power and argued that if a civil war ever broke out the president could abolish slavery by using his war powers, which Abraham Lincoln partially did during the American Civil War in the 1863 Emancipation Proclamation.</span></div>
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POTPOURRIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07263407097104630684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186108421792163137.post-29535621250920425582015-02-08T00:01:00.000-08:002015-02-10T04:58:15.081-08:00ELIZABETH II Proclaimed Queen ~ February 8, 1952<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RMIeFF2Drjg/S0-MelefXtI/AAAAAAAABsA/5GYAPjtPni4/s1600-h/Queen+Elizabeth+II.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_RMIeFF2Drjg/S0-MelefXtI/AAAAAAAABsA/5GYAPjtPni4/s400/Queen+Elizabeth+II.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426710533088698066" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 400px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 296px;" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">Elizabeth II is proclaimed Queen of the United Kingdom on February 8, 1952.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">George VI's health declined during 1951, and Elizabeth was soon frequently standing in for him at public events. In October of that year, she toured </span><span style="font-size: 130%;">Canada</span><span style="font-size: 130%;">, and visited the </span><span style="font-size: 130%;">President of the United States</span><span style="font-size: 130%;">, </span><span style="font-size: 130%;">Harry S. Truman</span><span style="font-size: 130%;">, in </span><span style="font-size: 130%;">Washington, D.C.</span><span style="font-size: 130%;">; on the trip, the Princess carried with her a draft accession declaration for use if the King died while she was out of the United Kingdom. </span><span style="font-size: 130%;">In early 1952, Elizabeth and Philip set out for a tour of </span><span style="font-size: 130%;">Australia</span><span style="font-size: 130%;"> and </span><span style="font-size: 130%;">New Zealand</span><span style="font-size: 130%;"> via </span><span style="font-size: 130%;">Kenya</span><span style="font-size: 130%;">. At </span><span style="font-size: 130%;">Sagana Lodge</span><span style="font-size: 130%;">, about 100 miles north of </span><span style="font-size: 130%;">Nairobi</span><span style="font-size: 130%;">, word arrived of the death of Elizabeth's father on 6 February. Philip broke the news to the new queen.</span><span style="font-size: 130%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 130%;">Martin Charteris</span><span style="font-size: 130%;">, then her Assistant Private Secretary, asked her </span><span style="font-size: 130%;">what she intended to be called as monarch</span><span style="font-size: 130%;">, to which she replied: "Elizabeth, of course." </span><span style="font-size: 130%;">Elizabeth was </span><span style="font-size: 130%;">proclaimed queen</span><span style="font-size: 130%;"> throughout her realms, and the royal party hastily returned to the United Kingdom. She and the Duke of Edinburgh moved into </span><span style="font-size: 130%;">Buckingham Palace</span>.</div>
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">Elizabeth II (Elizabeth Alexandra Mary; born 21 April 1926) is the Queen regnant of sixteen independent sovereign states known informally as the Commonwealth realms: the United Kingdom, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, Jamaica, Barbados, the Bahamas, Grenada, Papua New Guinea, the Solomon Islands, Tuvalu, Saint Lucia, Saint Vincent and the Grenadines, Belize, Antigua and Barbuda, and Saint Kitts and Nevis. She holds each crown separately and equally in a shared monarchy, as well as acting as Head of the Commonwealth, and Supreme Governor of the Church of England. As a constitutional monarch, she is politically neutral and by convention her role is largely ceremonial.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">When Elizabeth was born, the British Empire was a pre-eminent world power, but its influence declined, particularly after World War II, and the empire evolved into the modern Commonwealth of Nations. Her father, George VI, was the last Emperor of India. On his death in 1952, Elizabeth became Head of the Commonwealth, and queen of seven independent Commonwealth countries: the United Kingdom, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, Pakistan, and Ceylon, later renamed Sri Lanka. During her reign, which at 57 years is one of the longest for a British monarch, she became queen of 25 other countries within the Commonwealth as they gained independence from Britain. She has been the sovereign of 32 individual nations, half of which later became republics.</span></div>
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POTPOURRIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07263407097104630684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186108421792163137.post-68759321430011688912015-02-03T00:01:00.000-08:002015-02-03T00:01:00.454-08:00TULIP BUBBLE BURST ~ February 3, 1637<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RMIeFF2Drjg/S05NgGcRkMI/AAAAAAAABrY/Or4bhFIt4KY/s1600-h/Tulipomania.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_RMIeFF2Drjg/S05NgGcRkMI/AAAAAAAABrY/Or4bhFIt4KY/s400/Tulipomania.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426359814908383426" style="cursor: hand; float: right; height: 400px; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; width: 265px;" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">1637 – Tulip mania collapses in the United Provinces (now the Netherlands) by government order. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">Tulip mania or tulipomania (Dutch names include: tulpenmanie, tulpomanie, tulpenwoede, tulpengekte and bollengekte) was a period in the Dutch Golden Age during which contract prices for bulbs of the recently introduced tulip reached extraordinarily high levels and then suddenly collapsed. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">At the peak of tulip mania in February 1637, tulip contracts sold for more than 10 times the annual income of a skilled craftsman. It is generally considered the first recorded speculative bubble (or economic bubble). The term "tulip mania" is now often used metaphorically to refer to any large economic bubble (when asset prices deviate from intrinsic values).</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">The event was popularized in 1841 by the book Extraordinary Popular Delusions and the Madness of Crowds, written by British journalist Charles Mackay. According to Mackay, at one point 12 acres (5 ha) of land were offered for a Semper Augustus bulb. Mackay claims that many such investors were ruined by the fall in prices, and Dutch commerce suffered a severe shock. Although Mackay's book is a classic that is widely reprinted today, his account is contested. Many modern scholars believe that the mania was not as extraordinary as Mackay described, with some arguing that the price changes may not have constituted a bubble.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 130%;">Research on the tulip mania is difficult because of the limited data from the 1630s—much of which comes from biased and anti-speculative sources. Although these explanations are not generally accepted, some modern economists have proposed rational explanations, rather than a speculative mania, for the rise and fall in prices. For example, other flowers, such as the hyacinth, also had high prices on the flower's introduction, which then fell dramatically. The high prices may also have been driven by expectations of a parliamentary decree that contracts could be voided for a small cost—thus lowering the risk to buyers.</span></div>
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POTPOURRIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07263407097104630684noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186108421792163137.post-84073650241216688692015-02-02T00:01:00.000-08:002015-02-02T00:01:00.812-08:00GROUNDHOG'S DAY<div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Photo:</span></span></span><span style="font-family: arial,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 0;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">pgc.state.pa.us</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 0;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Before I moved to California, my Mother had a wonderful party for me on </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">February 2, 1973, Groundhog’s Day. </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Groundhog’s Day, of course, is big in Pennsylvania. Somehow I think the origins go back to Candlemas, a festival of light in the Roman and Episcopal traditions, since sunlight or seeing one’s shadow is the critical element of Groundhog’s Day. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Back to my party: more than seventy people came— friends and associates from work, church and theatre. Several remarked that it was nicer than their own wedding receptions. Maybe that was Mother’s way of saying she accepted me. For that event she made a ground hazelnut cake. It was terrific and for a number of years, Mother mailed me hazelnut cakes from Pennsylvania for my birthday in April.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">For that same Groundhog’s Day party in 1973, I had wanted to serve “Panetti Punch” named for my favorite Yale music professor, Joan Panetti. It consisted of ginger ale, orange juice, lemonade, Hawaiian Punch, fresh lemons and limes, orange and raspberry sherbet and two fifths of bourbon. It was so sweet you could easily get sloshed without knowing. (As I had on my 20th Birthday in my Saybrook College dorm room at Yale). </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I was an adult. It was my party. I would just inform Mother that was what I wanted. Dad, Julie and Cynthia advised me just to do it without telling her. So I did. And there was a good bit left over. Scotch as she was, Mother put it in the refrigerator and served it with breakfast for about a week. Mother said it tasted pretty good. Years later Helen Heisey told Mother, who absolutely refused to believe it had had any alcohol in it! (I think it was the only time she ever had a drink in her entire life.) </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">In 1985 I had an extravagant Groundhog’s Day party which I called the </span><em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Feast of St. Hogus Terrae </span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">as a celebration for surviving the breakup with Ross Mang. (I can't believe that was thirty years ago!)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 0;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">February 2 is also the one-hundred sixty-seventh anniversary of the Treaty of Guadelupe Hildago, which settled the Mexican-American War. Up until a few days before the signing of the treaty, the plan was to set the boundary between the United States and Mexico ten nautical miles (I recall) south of…. Monterey! But at the last minute, it was changed to ten nautical miles south of San Diego. What a difference that would have made! Los Angeles, Santa Barbara, the Hearst property with San Simeon would all still be part of Mexico. Supposedly Mexican dictator Santa Anna offered to throw in Baja California, but we declined his offer. After all, who would want that wasteland?</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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POTPOURRIhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07263407097104630684noreply@blogger.com0