May 4, 2000 - Boston Ballet's Cleopatra

A coffee mug can be more than a Caffeine Delivery System. It can also be a time machine. Look at the date on that: May 4, 2000. Twenty years ago tonight Boston Ballet opened the final production of its 1999-2000 season with Ben Stevenson’s Cleopatra. A production remembered as a greater spectacle than it was a ballet, it remains special to me because it came at the end of my first season doing special events for the Company, at a time when I still had much to learn about the ballet world.

It had been a good season, starting with Wheeldon’s new production of The Firebird. I had just accepted the position and attended the Firebird opening night to see how things were done. Cleopatra, though, was the first opportunity I remember (after all these years) of getting to indulge in that favorite occupation of all balletomanes: comparing performances. And the four Cleopatras all gave different, compelling interpretations. Adriana, on opening night, had such warmth and passion - but the gesture I remember most is the proud tilt of her profile as she left her gigantic portable throne on her arrival in Rome and stalked offstage.

Larissa, next, brought ice to the desert. Never has a dancer communicated such scorn with only a wrist and the tip of her nose. I can see her atop that throne in that pale blue dress yet.

Jennifer, third in the run, did something none of the other dancers did. At the end of the first act, moving toward the bed, Cleopatra turns back toward Caesar to underline her invitation to join her. Jennifer kittenishly lowered her shoulder strap, a gesture that emphasized that Cleopatra was really nothing more than a young teenager at the time.

Finally, Kyra, who had such wonderful athleticism and honesty. Yes, Cleo was a scheming queen, but her despair at the end when her lover died . . . unforgettable. And somehow I remember her more than the others at the very beginning of the ballet when, allegedly nude behind a diaphonous veil, she descended with gestures and two handmaids into her bath.

But how I remember Kyra most was taking her final bows at the closing matinée, which was also her retirement from the stage. This was the first dancer retirement I got to be a part of (the retirement of Tony Collins after Nutcracker a few months before was unique), and I was getting to see all the essential elements: the fans rushing to the front of the house to throw flowers on the stage, the dancer taking the stage to roars of ovations, and the procession of friends, colleagues, current and former stage partners, union representatives, teachers - all appearing on stage one after the other to present flowers.

I was backstage to assist with the flowers, as I recall, and saw Kyra take the stage for her final bow. She had changed into Cleopatra’s red costume, but I hadn’t expected her to remove her wig. The line of her rippling blonde hair against that red dress surprised me, but wow - visually it was effective!

Suddenly the pass door blew open and a tornado was upon me: a Very Important Person and her young daughter, dazzled by the moment and intent on participating in the presentation. I have no memory of how the stage manager handled it, but the scorn in that young girl’s voice as she said “We have to do it.” Mercy! If I had talked to an adult like that in front of my mother . . . well, I know what would have happened!

Afterward, the party in the lower lobby, which was also the end of season party for the entire Company. All I remember now is a crowded blur (while I kept an all-seeing eye on the caterer and the bar), and many reminiscences and presentations to Kyra covering much amusing Company history.

It’s funny how a couple of coffee mugs can bring back all that - but then that’s probably why I kept them in the first place.

Sunday Morning, May 3

1) Back porch coffee on our first day in the 60s. I have such a long list of things to do today I may just ignore ALL of it and stretch this moment until 5 PM.

2) Quote of the Day: “When we take up the ‘new’ it is only because we have had a secret need of it and have unconsciously prepared for its coming.” — Cecil Beaton in his book The Glass of Fashion, writing about Irene Castle

2a) And that’s all very well if it’s a hairstyle or a hemline, but something very different if it involves weapons.

3) Just now I heard all this pronounced rustling in some leaves behind me, in a corner of the fence. I turned and looked, thinking to see a squirrel or, worse, a skunk or an opossum or something. Turns out it was a glossy black bird, perhaps a shrike.

3a) With all the talk of “murder hornets” and cicada plagues in the news, thank goodness it wasn’t a raven!

Monday Midday, April 27

1) As soon as I walked out of my room this morning I knew that today would be completely domestic. Cleaning, sorting, organizing, laundering, etc. This is motivated not just by the large pile of clothing on the small chair in my parlor that I use as a coatrack, or the dirty laundry randomly scattered throughout the house, but also the acquisition of a countertop convection oven (!) that will involve more than rearranging a countertop. All this is good.

1a) I never get new kitchen stuff - shucks, 95% of my pots, pans, and other things came from my grandmother’s house - but with the pandemic lockdown I bought a new skillet at the hardware store, and now this convection oven. And that’s nice, but oh! I miss restaurants!

2) Over the weekend a friend who reads Etiquetteer responded to the latest column and also said how much he enjoyed reading this blog (which I always think of as This Is Robert Talking and everyone else thinks of as The Dark Side of Etiquetteer . . . but both are valid ‘cause they’re both right there at the top). “I love the glimpses into your life!” he said. And it got me thinking about how this got started during a very dark period of my life. My father had died a few months before. It was the early days of the Trump administration. I was in the process of getting rid of a roommate and my home felt like a war zone. My work was not fulfilling. And I was deeply unhappy with ye Fycebykke. This blog started as an outlet for everything I wanted to post there, and gradually became something a little different, as blogs will.

2a) Fast forward three years, and a pandemic is changing everything in ways we can’t even predict. And for longer than the pandemic, I just haven’t felt the need to express myself here as much. And that’s OK, too.

3) Aside from cooking, the pandemic has forced me to get more comfortable with technology. Etiquetteer’s response has been to create the Saturday Night Dress Dinner Challenge, and for that to fly I knew I’d have to get on ye Instygrymme. And there’s a learning curve, but overall it’s been OK. Now, after a very fun but technically frustrating call on ye Zymme with high school friends and alumni, I am having to learn more about that technology, which their FAQ does not make intuitive. But I persevere!

Wednesday Morning, April 22 - Randomness of the Week So Far

1) Monday afternoon I took a 45-minute walk through Franklin Park, where two things happened. Walking near the golf course, the air was suddenly full of a dull roar: one or more lions at the nearby zoo. I thought “Well, I guess I’ll turn around now.” Returning uphill the way I came, a mother and her two boys were coming down. None of us had masks on, but I was super-conscious of social distancing. Courteous greetings as we passed, but that wasn’t enough for the youngest boy. “We heard the lions roar! And all the squirrels, they ran away!” I couldn’t help but see the excitement in his eyes. At a time when we’re having so very few in-person interactions, it was just beautiful to see that.

The Metaphor Tree in Franklin Park.

1a) The second thing was the discovery of a couple downed trees of very large size. Undoubtedly blown down during the Big Wind last week, workmen had already begun to take them apart. A beautiful felled pine of grand proportion turned out to have a hollow trunk. And I thought sadly, “Hmm, a metaphor for the nation.”

A view of the Metaphor Tree featuring the hollow trunk.

2) Yesterday my sister called to ask me to look around for some particular family documents, and soon we were talking about our favorite children’s books. I think I probably got the ball rolling remembering Miss Twiggley’s Tree, about an introvert who lived in a tree with a bear (!) who ends up saving everyone in town during a flood when they have nowhere to go but her tree. And then Laura remembered Andrew Henry’s Meadow, which had been a favorite of mine I’d nearly forgotten. And Mother’s favorite, Mexicali Soup. It was just one of the happiest conversations! Surely we all have childhood books we return to.

2a) Mother and Daddy always made sure we had age-appropriate things to read. Aside from books, there were subscriptions to Wee Wisdom, Ranger Rick, and Highlights for Children.

Striking a pose with my morning coffee. These are my “formal” hemp yoga pants, gray faintly striped with black in poor imitation of a gentleman’s striped trousers for morning dress. The mug is from the Ballet’s production of Cleopatra, 20 years ago next month, part of Boston’s “Egypt in Boston” season.

3) Today is starting off with uneasiness, restlessness, and fatigue - not a great combination. I thought I'd been awake since 3:05 AM, but Snorelab recorded at least 45 minutes of snoring between 4-5:30 AM. So I've slept more than I thought I did.

3a) I have jumped like a magpie from one thing to another: morning pages, coffee, devotional, social media, email, back to devotional, online research of a scriptural passage, coffee, email, social media . . . I can't seem to light anywhere! And it is 36 degrees outside, at the end of the April. I swear February was warmer . . .

Monday Midday, April 13

1) Keeping to a schedule is very helpful for me during this coronacrisis - not that I always do - but it helps with a sense of order at the end of the day. So far, today has been pretty good.

2) An elegant little luncheon of tuna salad with dill on a bed of greens. Presentation is everything.

2a) The secret ingredient is white pepper.

3) Lots of creative ideas spinning around today, due in part of keeping scheduled, but also to the anticipated Big Weather that is supposed to be coming sometime today. Everything feels unsettled.

4) Last night I did a tarot reading about the nation and the coronavirus, which I may post about in more detail later. So many interesting symmetries, transformation from one thing to another through the prism of sorrow and, potentially, ruin.

Wednesday Afternoon, April 8

1) Yesterday morning, in what may have been my longest sustained burst of yard work at Maison Robaire, I raked and bagged six bags of leaves out of the garden. I wanted to get that out of the way before this morning’s rain. Imagine my surprise that it’s so beautiful this afternoon!

1a) Shortly before this photo was taken I realized my eyeglasses were missing. Yes, I raked them into a bag of leaves. At least I only had to empty two of them to find the glasses. Moral: nothing goes in the pocket of a hoodie except hands.

2) Today I attempted kedgeree for the first time, remembering both Nicola Paget saying “Kedgeree - deevy!” on Upstairs, Downstairs, and the Duchess of Devonshire’s debutante dance, when her mother put it on the menu instead of the more usual chicken a la king. “Mother had the talent of making the commonplace original.” Something we might all cultivate.

2a) I ended up using cumin as a substitute for curry powder and brown rice because I had it in the house, not quite remembering that it demands double the cooking time of white or basmati rice. But the result was palatable, which is good, as I’ll be eating it for the rest of the week.

3) In an Oscar Wilde mood, have been watching the 1947 An Ideal Husband with my beloved Diana Wynyard, Paulette Goddard, Glynnis Johns (very early in her career), Constance Collier (very late in hers), handsome Michael Wilding, C. Aubrey Smith, and with costumes by Cecil Beaton. Absolutely worth your time, especially in the current political moment.

Tuesday Morning, April 7

1) Coffee and devotional in the study, after about a week’s intermission. John 13:1: “Now before the feast of the passover, Jesus knew the hour had come to depart from this world to his Father. He loved his own who were in this world, and he loved them to the end.” [emphasis mine]

2) Up early, but I feel like I’m fading fast. Not good, especially when I need to work out a productive schedule. If it starts with a NAP, what does that say?

3) The weather is supposed to be beautiful today, especially in the morning, so it would behoove me to spend those hours outside the garden . . . which means a trip to the hardware store for leaf bags.

Sunday Midday, April 5

1) The Internet tells me that today is Bette Davis’s birthday. So of course the only thing to do is settle down and watch Jezebel. Not just because she won her second Oscar for her performance, or because it was likely my first cinematic obsession, but because the plot hinges on a yellow fever epidemic. So appropriate for these times!

1a) That waltz at the Olympus Ball! Both the waltzes! Truly Max Steiner was one of the greatest Hollywood composers.

2) Of course the rest of the cast was just as remarkable: Fay Bainter as her aunt, Donald Crisp as the doctor, Margaret Lindsay as her Yankee rival, and the ubiquitous Spring Byington. A dear friend is very fond of Richard Cromwell, who plays Henry Fonda’s brother; it’s this performance that gave me the line “Fine as frog’s hair!” In recent months I’ve become much more admiring of Theresa Harris, who plays Bette’s maid Zette. Theresa’s performance opposite Barbara Stanwyck in Baby Face is nothing short of fantastic.

3) Later on I might screen The Letter and of course All About Eve.

Thursday Morning, April 2

1) The star magnolia in front of the house is slowly beginning to bloom. This will usher in the three weeks of the year my house is at its most beautiful. That thing has grown as high as the windowsills on the third floor.

2) How did our mothers plan three meals a day? I was saying to a friend last night how much I miss restaurants, where you can sit down, choose something, and whoosh, they bring it right out to you. But then, dining out has been one of my favorite things to do since childhood.

2a) And did I mention that my oven isn’t working? On the other hand, that has been the impetus for me to experiment beyond flinging a chicken breast into the oven! I think I’m going to turn my hand to kedgeree this weekend, which I have never attempted.

3) I’ve made a mostly successful effort to avoid the news this week, weakening only during the cocktail hour yesterday. I remain deeply anxious about the global and national situations; it’s tough not to feel powerless.

Wednesday Morning, March 25 - Dorian Grayish Thoughts

“I always said I’d leave off when the time came.” - Greta Garbo as Grusinskaya the ballerina in Grand Hotel

1) I think I’ve handled aging with perhaps a whisper more equanamity than most. It’s inevitable, right? The only other option is Death! A small group of us will hand around Joe Gillis’s line from Sunset Boulevard of possible headlines about Norma Desmond: “Aging actress, yesterday’s glamor queen.” Always with humor. So far! ;-)

1a) But this morning . . . oh this morning, the first sight of my face in the bathroom mirror. “Those cruel lines!” as Cedric said to Lady Montdore in Nancy Mitford’s novel Love in a Cold Climate. Not all of them; some are like dents and bumps you find in an old, loved piece of silver, “character marks.” What I was seeing for the first time, it seemed, was two pairs of lines from the inside corners of my eyes down to the top of each nostril. Where on earth did they come from?! They’re like the double lines on the highway. IN THE CENTER OF MY FACE!

1b) Writing this later in the day, they appear to have smoothed out a bit, but still. I’ve always scoffed at the idea of ahem elective surgery, but something must be done.

2) Later in the morning, suddenly the fatal guidance of Lord Henry in The Picture of Dorian Gray flashed through my mind: “To cure the soul by means of the senses, and the senses by means of the soul.” How many of us might be thinking of solutions like this during the Time of Coronavirus when we are forbidden in-person contact?

3) One of my aunts was a very devout Christian, and I remember years ago telling her I had read The Picture of Dorian Gray. She almost visibly stiffened in front of me and told me she thought it was the most evil book in the world when she read it. I’ve never forgotten her reaction.

Sunday Afternoon, March 22

1) As my late friend Hollis used to say, “I’m as jumpy as a virgin at a prison rodeo!” Jumpy almost since I got up; I get like this sometimes when I’m working on a project and assailed by doubt.

1a) But I got through it!

2) My doorbell just rang - most unusual as I wasn’t expecting anyone. With some anxiety in this Time of the Coronavirus, I went to the door and was surprised by my old second-floor neighbors with a tiny orchid plant as a gift! This was their social-distancing-appropriate way of doing some good and also getting out of the house. And don’t worry, we were always six feet apart at least. I felt bad not being able to invite them inside, but one can’t take risks. Still, I was deeply touched that they did this.

3) Last night I had two virtual cocktail gatherings, for which I broke out a bottle of prosecco for Aperol spritzes. Bubbles work against me if I have more than two, so I used the rest of the bottle to poach a piece of salmon for dinner (with an onion and a wee bit of garlic). It made an excellent dinner with steamed spinach and an excellent luncheon over green salad. While I won’t take any prizes for presentation, it was still awfully tasty.

Friday, March 20 - My Coronavirus Day

1) Today I had to leave the house for the first time since Tuesday, to pick up a prescription at the pharmarcy at ye Instytytte. I timed my departure for after rush hour, knowing that there wouldn’t really be much of a rush anyway. I was only the fourth person in my subway car about 9:30, and there weren’t many more as the train got closer to town.

1a) This, of course, on the Ligne d’Orange. The Ligne Rouge was fuller.

2) Medical at ye Instytytte was practically on lockdown. Only two entrances open, and when I got into the proper one, a masked staffer standing there IMMEDIATELY asked me “Are you going to the pharmacy?!” And of course I was, so everything was all right. But they’ve let the world know that walk-in appointments are NOT possible, and they are ready to enforce.

3) The pharmacist was very nice, but looked suspiciously at my cash when she asked “Do you have credit?” To prevent transmission yet another degree, they are almost enforcing payment by credit card, so that no one has to handle cash, even with gloves. Somehow I hadn’t considered that.

3a) I thanked her and said “You all are doing the Lord’s work, staying open for all of us.” “We try, all of us, the doctors and nurses and [Insert All Medical Professions Here],” she replied. And then I shot back my standard response to “I try:” “Well, you remember what Humphrey Bogart said in Casablanca? "‘We all try. YOU succeed.’” And her demeanor flowered. Clearly a new level of response from a patient, and she obviously appreciated it.

4) Ran errands on Centre Street before coming home, especially getting a takeout burrito for lunch at ye Pyrple Cytcysse. I think it was the owner who waited on me at the counter, and we ended up talking about coronavirus coverage in the Times.

5) Now this evening was a nearly non-stop series of conversations, both scheduled and unscheduled. At 5:30, FaceTime cocktails with my best friends. Eventually I had to sign off to begin making dinner, which was actually delayed by a surprise phone call from my old neighbors . . . because the children wanted to find out how I was! Isn’t that sweet?! So we had a nice conversation. And then once dinner was on the stove I FaceTimed another friend on the spur of the moment, inspired by some content on Instygrymme. And then after dinner at 9 PM pre-scheduled after-dinner drinks with another friend, which ended up just being audio because of a microphone fail on my part.

5a) I enjoyed every bit of all this, and I’m sure I will not be alone in this was we continue through this indefinite, possibly eternal period of isolation.

6) This afternoon, and night, have been unseasonably warm, but I just remembered to bring in the white poinsettia from the back porch, where I’d put it this afternoon to get some outdoor exposure. I’ve killed many house plants in my time, but I really love this poinsettia and I want it to last. Certainly its leaves look stronger and firmer than hitherto!

Wednesday, March 18 - Photos of Gramma for her Birthday

March 18 is my Gramma Babe’s birthday. Had she lived she’d be 118 years old. I’ve spent part of this morning scanning a few photos from the sheaves of photos and other documents I took from Mother’s house. So. Many. Photographs.

As a little girl.

With her older siblings Lillian Ophelia (11 years older) and Bob (10 years older).

With her mother, Anna Wondra Houska, and her sister Lillian. I suspect this was around the time Aunt Lil married.

With her mother. Gramma once told me that when she was very little she’d stand at the kitchen door and call out to her mother in the kitchen garden “Mamma, do you love me?” The answer came back “If I didn’t, who would?” I thought that was horrible!

As a young woman, early 1920s. This is the same hairdo in her wedding portraits.

Cities Service office, Minneapolis/St. Paul, 1923. Gramma is sitting on the desk at extreme right.

With Grampa Al, early 1930s.

I never in my life saw Gramma in a bathing suit. This is what she would have called “schnootzy.”

1940s. Tough to tell if it’s before, during, or after the war, but I’m gonna guess after.

With Grampa Al in an antique car, early 1950s.

March 13, 1954. I’m guessing this is Mother’s return home to Louisiana after her three post-college years working in New York. Uncle Bill at left, Grampa Al, Gramma, an unknown man, and Mother.

Christmas 1976 or 1977.

With me in 1980, a studio portrait from Muller’s department store on Ryan Street.

Plague- and Pox-Oriented Reading and Viewing

Years ago a friend who’s interested in the occult introduced me to Roger Corman’s 1964 film The Masque of the Red Death, starring the inevitable (and inevitably campy) Vincent Price. As luck would have it, someone has put it up on le Yewtybbe, so you can experience this garish Technicolor spectacle for free from the comfort and safety of your own home. This is worth seeing just to count how many different colors they can make wax candles out of . . .

I had already whipped out my copy of the Gold Bug and Other Tales of Mystery by Edgar Allan Poe - a childhood gift from my Uncle Tom and Aunt Joan (obviously a good choice - 300 years later I still have it!) - but now I had to reach for the slightly battered, red-bound gold-stamped The Works of Poe from the set of other red-bound gold-stamped books by classic authors published by Black’s back in the day.* In this book is Poe’s original short story, which is short on plot but big on Gothic atmosphere. The movie was based on a second Poe story, too: “Hop-Frog,” about a dwarf court jester bent on revenge.

So, you can read the original short story “Masque of the Red Death” at the Poe Museum’s website here.

And you can read “Hop-Frog” here at Poe Stories.

But my truly favorite pox-related story is “Lady Eleanore’s Mantle**,” the third of Nathaniel Hawthorne’s four “Legends of the Province House” in his Twice-Told Tales. (Read it here online at Hawthorne in Salem.) A monomaniacal beauty comes to live in colonial Boston, bringing with her a marvelously embroidered mantle of white satin. Well whoopsy-doo, Lady Eleanore turns out to be a smallpox carrier; hilarity ensues. This story includes my favorite speech in all Hawthorne:

“O Jervase Helwyse,” said the voice - and as it spoke it contorted itself, struggling to hide its blasted face - “look not now on the woman you once loved! The curse of Heaven hath stricken me, because I would not call man my brother, nor woman sister. I wrapped myself in PRIDE as in a MANTLE, and scorned the sympathies of nature; and therefore has nature made this wretched body the medium of a dreadful sympathy. You are avenged - they are all avenged - Nature is avenged - for I am Eleanore Rochcliffe!”

Something else tangentially appropriate: Lon Chaney’s silent version of Phantom of the Opera from 1929. The Phantom appears as the Red Death at the Opera ball (see gif above).

Otto Preminger’s Forever Amber of 1947 includes some great and gruesome scenes of London during the Black Plague of 1665-1666. Amber (played by Linda Darnell) has just married a jealous, elderly earl, but that doesn’t stop her from leaving her wedding reception to race to London to rescue her true love Baron Bruce Carlton (played by Cornel Wilde) from the horrible black plague. If it’s not one thing it’s another, from bribing a soldier to allow them refuge in an abandoned house to murdering the thieving nurse in self-defense, to lancing Carlton’s plague boil herself. I’m a big fan of the movie, not least for George Sanders as Charles II. Jessica Tandy shows up as Amber’s maid! And my beloved Alma Kruger (now remembered only by me, but who appeared as Rosalind Russell’s aunt by marriage in Craig’s Wife and as the Maria Theresa with Norma Shearer in Marie Antoinette) appears as a wedding guest.

Years ago I tried reading Kathleen Winsor’s blockbuster best selling novel Forever Amber, on which the movie was based. But once it diverged from the plot of the film, I lost interest. You might have better luck. Certainly she found a very genteel way of suggesting that King Charles was doing it doggy-style in the window with his mistress!

Lastly there’s always my beloved Jezebel, the source of Bette Davis’s second Oscar. Yellow fever sweeps through 1852 New Orleans, claiming principled Henry Fonda as a victim. Will Bette scheme sufficiently to keep Hank’s Yankee wife (Margaret Lindsay) from accompanying him to the leper colony?

So that’s quite enough (or is it?) for the moment. Enjoy!

*Maybe two dozen of them, always on our family bookshelves, and it was a source of pride to my father to give them to me years and years ago. In this winter’s purge I got rid of over half of them, to my surprise - but without regret.

**Remember, a mantle goes around your shoulders. A mantel goes around your fireplace. Don’t get them mixed.

Saturday Morning, Pi Day 2020

1) With tales of supermarket chaos and panic buying sizzling in ears, I left the house a bit before 6:30 this morning to shop at ye Ryche Brythyrs at ye Dywntyne Crossynge. So of course I was the first person through the door when the nice man opened it at 7 AM; the only other customer waiting stopped to talk to him.

1a) I chose this supermarket because fewer people live downtown than in, say, Back Bay.

2) While I didn’t quite have the place to myself, shopping was very easy and I found 95% of what was on my list. Mostly I had to dodge employees toting room-sized boxes of foodstuffs on dollies throughout the store to restock.

3) The most notable gap on the shelves was bread, though they still had quite a bit. Peanut butter, crackers. Otherwise the place seemed, to me, stocked as usual.

3a) I wasn’t looking for paper goods, thank goodness!

4) They did have a display of pies out for Pi Day, but I took a pass.

4a) Alas, they didn’t have any green carnations for St. Patrick’s Day!

5) Home by 8 AM! Not a bad 90-minute excursion to start the day. But having slept badly and gotten up at 5 AM, I know I am going to crash this afternoon.

Friday Evening, March 13 - Random &%$@ for National Jewel Day

I started the cocktail hour ten minutes early due to all the coronavirus announcements (mercy, my inbox is fully of coronavirus email messagas) and it is much more pleasant to think of the triviality of National Jewel Day instead. So I’m just going to reel out a lot of random crap for you to sort through.

1) About 25 years ago the Museum of Science held a large exhibition called “Gems!” of, obviously, gemstones. The first half was mostly geology (yawn), but the second half - ahhhhhhhhh! That was all fabulous jewelry! As I rounded a corner of an exhibition case, I suddenly saw in its original case (as I recall), a parure of beautiful amethysts: tiara, necklace, brooches, bracelets, a ring, and quite possibly hair combs. And being me, I gasped aloud “AN AMETHYST PARURE!” The friends with me looked askance, as though they thought I might need medical assistance. So I had to explain helpfully, “It’s the most complete set of jewelry you can own.” Which of course solved everything nicely, and they’ve been looking at me askance ever since.

1a) Also included, the Duchess of Windsor’s stained chalcedony bracelets, decidedly less spectatular, and the world’s largest rhinestone, on loan from the Liberace Museum.

2) This is surely my favorite rendition of the Jewel Song from Faust.

3) I just cannot watch Gaslight but I gather that Charles Boyer is obsessed with jewels. Don’t care how brilliant the performances are, it is just so abusive. Makes me absolutely frantic.

4) The chapter on Dorian Gray’s jewel collection just boggles the imagination.

5) My gramma had a beautiful scarab bracelet (Laura has it now, and wears it, which makes me very happy) of semiprecious stones - jade, tiger eye, etc. We must have learned our colors with that bracelet, because I remember pointing to the purple stone and saying “valendar” for “lavender.”

6) You can just tell in this gif that little Virginia Wiedlin is wearing a replica of the famous Marie Antoinette Diamond Necklace that brought down a monarchy.

Tuesday Evening, March 10

Not that anyone will see this, ‘cause I won’t be linking it on ye Fycebykke, but . . .

1) This week I’m not allowed to read. What?! you ask. Don’t be alarmed; it’s part of the Artist’s Way, and the big requirement for the fourth week is not to read.

2) It hasn’t even been 24 hours and you’d think I’d be growing hair on my palms by this time, but not so. That said, reading is such an important part of my daily life! News, daily devotional, books in the bathroom, books on the nightstand, always taking something to read with me out of the house, etc. etc. etc. What on earth am I going to do?!

3) The answer is write, get in tune with my own words instead of someone else’s. Already today I’ve written a column and half. And I’m cooking. I collated photos of my grandmother’s house into a small photo album. I’m more in my life than otherwise.

4) So if I don’t get back to you for a few days, call me! It’s not forbidden to talk voice to voice.

Tuesday Evening, March 3

1) When I voted this morning, somewhere around 10:30 or so this morning, there was no line at my polling place. Except . . . except for one man in my precinct who was not understanding the poll worker trying to explain to him that he wasn’t on the list even though the woman he came with was. So it was interesting to witness this interaction for the three minutes it took - it seems language was not the only barrier at play - but certainly reinforced for me that one should assume nothing and check on one’s voter status in advance.

2) In the words of the late Greta Garbo, “Aieee teenk Aieee’ve nevaire beeeeen so tyiehd een myeee lyeeeefe.”

3) What I was not expecting was the warmth of the day, practically 60! In all my life I have never been as fond of a house plant as I am of the white poinsettia I got at the supermarket just before Christmas. Silly me, I didn’t realize that they need light much more than water. I kept in the dining room so long it went bald from the bottom up, until there was nothing left but the medium-sized white flowers on top. Now, almost three months later of sunshine in the parlor, small leaves are bursting out all up and down the stems. I put it out on the back porch this afternoon for additional sun.

Monday Night, March 2 - Reactions to all the Crazy Out There

Oh Lordy, where to start?!

1) So, not having watched television regularly since 1987 (PeeWee’s Playhouse, the rebroadcast of Upstairs, Downstairs on PBS sponsored by the Eleanor Naylor Dana Charitable Trust*), I barely have an idea who Chris Matthews is and have never seen his little television program. But now he’s “retiring” early as a result of being an Out-of-Touch Old White Man Who Behaves Badly. You’ve heard me say it often enough, and it’s still true: a lady knows when to leave a party, and Chris Matthews was no lady. But at least he’s leaving now.

1a) Pat Robertson is no lady either, but alas, he owns his own network.

2) As I said yesterday, there are many principled choices for non-Trump voters to make in 2020, and I am not criticizing anyone for the choices they make (unless they are Bloomberg or Gabbard), and I expect the same courtesy in return (unless you’ve chosen Bloomberg or Gabbard, and then I guess I deserve what I get). But I will say, this morning it was dispiriting to have to consider which Angry Old White Man to favor. I keep channeling Suzanne Vale in Postcards from the Edge: “Joan, Lana, or you? These are my options?!”

2a) And that is all I am going to say on the subject.

3) I am not Mr. Science - you knew that - but I have a deep respect for Science and scientists, for Intelligence, for Knowledge - and I’m not going to pooh-pooh it out of hand. The way our government is disrespecting Science and scientists is beyond inexcusable. Action must be taken.

*Thank you, Eleanor Naylor Dana and your eponymous Charitable Trust! I will always be grateful for the act of generosity that brought the Bellamy household into my home during graduate school.

Sunday Night, March 1 - Au Revoir, Mayor Pete

1) Two months ago in New York over lunch, a friend was mourning the end of Cory Booker’s presidential campaign. We both noted that most of the candidates petitioned the party to bend the rules to allow Booker to remain in the debates and, perhaps rather heartlessly, I commented “Well, it’s supposed to narrow down to one candidate!”

1a) Later, mentally, I added “They aren’t running for President as a committee.”

2) Those words come back to me tonight with the breaking news that Mayor Pete is ending his campaign after an undeniably poor showing in South Carolina. Tonight I am extremely sad, but tomorrow somehow I’ll bounce back.

3) There are many principled choices for non-Trump voters to make in this election, so I don’t fault anyone for making the choices they made. The absolutely most important objective is to save Democracy - our Democracy - from the current administration.

3a) But for tonight, I mourn the passing of a gay Christian gentleman who is Younger Than I who really represents everything my parents taught me to be (except for the gay thing - they totally didn’t like that!) and everything good in American life that our current President is not.

BONUS: Cue Scarlett O’Hara in three . . . two . . .