Saturday Morning 15 January

1) It’s one thing to start the day by butt-dialing an entire Facetime group when entering the bathroom and then not being able to end it because the X button wouldn’t appear, but it’s quite another to start it by butt-dialing an entire Facetime group when entering the bathroom, failing to end it in time, and then nearly breaking a favorite coffee cup while fumbling taking it out of the cupboard.

1a) I’m going back to bed.

2) Really, I ought to take down the Christmas tree today.

3) As long as I can get it done before Zoom tea at 4 PM.

Thursday Evening, 13 January

1) Yesterday was so happy, it was difficult to realize this morning that one reason it was so happy was that I had completely forgotten to go to a dentist appointment first thing in the morning. Oopsie.

2) With temperatures risen into the low 40s, I took a brisk constitutional through the cemetery this afternoon. Walking up the long drive to the entrance past what looked like a stalled funeral procession was a little discomfiting. Later in my walk in what I call the Back Forty I was surprised to hear a car radio, and then to see someone (not apparently a staffer) cleaning the insides of his car doors down one of the roads.

2a) More picturesque was the hawk (or hawklike bird) that flew over me, showing its underside of warm tan and fluffy white feathers.

3) Another Zoom tea, this time Connoisseur Master Blend from Grace Tea, a good strong black tea, and a dozen of those very good chocolate drop cookies I made earlier in the week. Two hours of unflagging conversation on such a wide variety of topics: Bloomsbury, the Souls, Isadora Duncan, family heirlooms, the tarot, scent, Gladys Deacon, Ruth Draper, Victorian murder, Elsie de Wolfe and Edith Wharton, urban life — not in this order.

4) You know, friends, I’m just not hanging out on ye Fycebykke much, so I apologize if I’m missing major life events you share only there. It’s not that I don’t love, it’s just the algorithm.

Wednesday Afternoon, 12 January

1) It’s a good day, for a few reasons. Being able to accomplish something significant by 11 AM on a writing day always helps my mood, and today I am pretty pleased with my column.

2) On a deeper level, a Fascinating New Personality has come into the picture, and I predict a lot of afternoon tea and cookies in my future.

3) Finally, after a retreat of nearly a year, an internet friend has resurfaced, so that I am resuming my role of Wise Elder. Simultaneously, another Friend at a Distance is taking on a similar role with me. I can’t say “Wise Elder” in this case because I think I’m actually a whisper older. Let’s say he’s an Auxiliary Brake. A message of reassuring caution from him this morning helped put a strong foundation under my good mood today.

3a) Long story short — grateful.

Tuesday Morning, 11 January

1) Steadfastly not complaining about the weather, but why not sprinkle a bit of tarragon into your eggs this morning, for the taste of warmer seasons?

2) Yesterday, having been warned about the significant drop in temperatures for today, I took a brisk vigorous walk through my happy place, the cemetery. And as often after snowfall, I saw things there a little differently than usual.

2a) I also noticed a hawk gliding from tree to tree, and hoped it would just keep gliding and perching and pay no attention to me.

3) What kind of world do we want to live in? What do I want to make of this particular day in my life? The big questions crowd close sometimes.

This plot marker, one of four marking a family plot, is very much of its era. Remember dahlings, what is fashionable is not always stylish.

Tuesday Morning, 4 January

1) Wakeful in the night with troubled thoughts — it happens sometimes — I got up very early for coffee, morning pages, and devotional. You know I practice bibliomancy, and this morning I held Mother’s Bible thoughtfully for a few moments before opening. When I did, I was brought to Psalm 140, and I instantly knew this was my proper answer. It begins: “Deliver me, O Lord, from the evil man; preserve me from violent men, Who devise mischiefs in their heart; continually do they stir up contention.” Read the entire psalm; it’s just 12 verses, and it may inspire you or comfort you.

2) Mauve lustreware and blue denim is of course the sort of combination you might expect to find in my house.

3) Yesterday at last I mailed out the last of my Christmas cards, just in time. And in the incoming mail I received more, from friends to whom I had sent cards a week ago. Also a lovely note of thanks that squeezed my heart a little.

Monday Morning, 27 December -- A Shining Week

1) I love the week between Christmas and New Year’s, which has a radiance the way Christmas morning did when I was a child. I always tried to take this week as a vacation from the office in the last 30 years. It’s a time apart.

1a) I’ll admit this week radiates a little more brightly when there’s snow on the ground, but “we already have the moon, let’s not ask for the stars.”

2) If we weren’t in the midst of a pandemic, I would want very much to get together with friends one on one or in small groups for lunch out, afternoon tea in, drinks, dinner. But we are in the midst of a pandemic, and I have deliberately kept my schedule a blank. At the moment I have a ticket to visit the MFA (on my own) one day, and Friday a friend is coming by for a morning coffee. Otherwise, I will be isolating.

3) Instead I want to do some serious planning for 2022 — writing, travel, domesticity, etc. — which will give me a blueprint. And the other thing I really want to do is read The Economist special year-end issue to look at the year ahead. When I was still flying home for Christmas I’d pick that up at Logan Airport and still be reading it on the flights home a week or so later. It’s a nice year-end ritual for me.

4) Today, however, I need to direct my attention to the remaning Christmas cards that need to be sent, since I virtuously completed all eight of my thank-you notes yesterday.

5) I really can’t take an hour for granted, because the nice shiny feeling of a new week usually expires by Tuesday evening. Onward!

Christmas Eve 2021

1) Again I awoke earlier than expected, after a dream involving an old enemy, and again I realized why it’s not a good idea to scroll social media before writing my morning pages, as I got drawn into a (neutral) exchanges of messages with a different old enemy. These things do little to clarify one’s thoughts.

2) I ended up reading the news for a couple hours — I ended up avoiding the news the last few days — and then settling down to write more Christmas cards, with Alastair Sim as Scrooge to keep me company. Almost all my inventory of Christmas and New Year’s cards are now gone! And many more addresses left on my list. Oopsie, should have prepared.

2a) That said, as I scanned down my list, I had to ask “Who on earth are these people?” Maybe it’s just the pandemic, but I have not heard directly from a lot of people in a very long time. Is this the case with you?

3) Back to Centre Street to run more errands: post office, Chi Chi Foo Foo Upscale Market for eggs (after discovering a shortage in my kitchen), dry cleaners (she is so nice!), and then the local bookstore to pick up an order and to buy more holiday cards.

3a) The staff at this store are really doing all they can to prevent COVID spread. Aside from big plexiglass shields by the register, they also have a low wire barrier by the door to keep customers from barging in and out on their own, and they insist on everyone using hand sanitizer on entering. As luck would have it today, everyone in the store wanted to shop in the same ~36 square feet, which included the entrance, the registers, and — important for me! — the holiday card display. It felt . . . a little chaotic, which is not really unusual for shopping on Christmas Eve.

3b) What’s interesting about progressive bookstores is that there are so many titles that prompt “I ought to read that” and not “I want to read that.” There’s a significant difference.

4) Murder, as I’ve pointed out so often, is very relaxing at times of stress. So I picked up Dashiell Hammett’s The Thin Man earlier this week (after an ugly online exchange) and almost finished it this afternoon. The story takes place over Christmas, 1932, in New York, but Christmas is only a minor piece of the backdrop to the action — which of course is detecting and excessive drinking. As much as I love the original Myrna Loy/William Powell film, and as opposed as I generally am to remaking the classics, The Thin Man is due for an update that doesn’t leave out any of the seamy side of New York at the time, or of the story. Really, Nick seems to have slept with most of the women in the story, and Hammett also paints a vivid picture of Nick and Nora’s New York social circle that could be brought out more. Not to mention the gritty nature of some of the speakeasies they hang out in.

5) This being National Eggnog Day, of course I was going to attempt Granny’s eggnog again, now that Cousin Mary has sent it to me. This year it was still quite tasty, but the textures didn’t work out. I should probably make just one serving at a time — but that’s a lot of work to fill a small glass.

6) And this being a Friday, the besties and I ended up having a Friday Facetime, but a little later than usual. Someone made the point that we hadn’t been together in person as a group since Thanksgiving, 2020, and it does underline the toll of the pandemic.

7) Christmas Eve — I am not consumed with the past, but eager Christmas dinner tomorrow at Craig’s. All my life I’ve spent Christmas with my family or on my own, never outside the family — Easter and Thanksgiving yes, many times, but not Christmas. And while I have been snug as a bug these two years since Mother died, I am happy to be doing something different tomorrow.

7a) But family are present in my thoughts. Tonight Laura texted me photos of her children, the Nephews and Niece Who Must Not Be Tagged, and Little Layla, barely two months old, happily gathered together. And on this night in 1954 a surprise Christmas gift in the living room on Kirkman Street revealed to my father’s family that he and Mother were engaged, at which there was much rejoicing.

8) I wish you joy this Christmas, but mostly I wish you health and safety. I keep telling myself that the 1918 pandemic ended at some point, but . . . when will this burn itself out?

Thursday Morning, 23 December -- Errands

1) Working a little harder to find the good in every thing, and it turns out the good in waking up at 5:45 AM — much earlier than planned — is getting to the post office very early and running other errands on Centre Street early and thereby avoiding Larger Numbers of People during Omicron. And let’s face it, I do love that darkest hour before the dawn in wintertime — when I’m snugly inside anyway.

1a) Post office to mail the last Christmas gift requiring mailing, bank, CVS for sundries, Chi-Chi Foo Foo Upscale Market for heavy cream (because tomorrow is National Eggnog Day, half and half will not suffice, and CVS only had half and half), and ye Blynchyrd’s — also sometimes known as the Island of Lickastowa — to stock up on champagne for New Year’s.

2) I like my little town center on Centre Street, where I can do everything but buy serious groceries. And today I happened to notice what the sales clerks were wearing. The nice postmistress had on a beautiful silk headscarf of large red and orange dots on a white ground with some sort of line drawing — perhaps a fish. The very tall male clerk at the CVS had on a white T-shirt over a long-sleeved shirt that read “Merry Christmas Ya Filthy Animal,” which made me laugh. And the nice lady at ye Blynchyrd’s sported a fun, busy-looking Christmas sweater.

2a) Even having lingered over a (very savory) breakfast sandwich at the Chi-Chi Foo Foo Upscale Market, I still got to ye Blynchyrd’s ten minutes before they opened. As I walked in I said to the lady behind the counter “I promise I’m not here to get my drink on! I just had other errands to run!” and we had a good laugh.

3) Returning home, I witnessed neighbors with school-age children across the street talking and overheard “And today our question is ‘Why is there a District of Columbia, and why Columbia?’” Which was something I knew something about, and we had some pleasant banter. A nice way to conclude an earlier-than-usual outing.

3a) Now, on to more Christmas cards!

Wednesday Morning, 22 December

1) Finalmente, the installation of new ceiling fixtures is now complete. The stained glass fixtures in the parlor and dining room look just as I imagined them, and the unexpected need to paint the ceiling can be put off until later. It is such a relief to have this done, and the boxes those fixtures came in tossed out.

The dining room.

2) The new toner cartridges arrived, too, and I installed them. And the computer recognizes that a document is being printed, but nothing prints. Ho hum. I am going to have to send out my cards without my Christmas letter, which is tedious.

2a) The other odd techy thing: for the second Wednesday in a row, almost the entire Etiquetteer email list has been rejected and bounced back to me with my usual column notification. Curious . . .

3) Of greater concern, the number of people I know — mostly internet friends, but also one or two in real life — who are testing positive or coming down with full-blown COVID. Please everyone, be safe.

Monday Night, 20 December

1) Maybe twice a year I have professionals clean my house, because we all know how much I enjoy housekeeping. After some scheduling issues and a flat tire, this morning was the morning. I opened the windows, masked up, and mostly confined myself to my room for two hours. Afterwards I could enjoy that new house smell.

Madonna and a rather pugnacious-looking Child.

2) In the afternoon I met two friends at the Gardner Museum to see the special exhibition I’d read about and completely forgotten, Titian: Women, Myth, & Power. My previous two or three visits to the Gardner during the pandemic have been spacious and leisurely, but not this time. It was far too crowded for a pandemic. I don’t know if it’s because it’s the start of Christmas Week, Blithe Unawareness of Omicron, Titian mania, all of the above, or something else, but the entire place felt jammed, including the restaurant.

The reason for the season.

2a) The Titian show is marvelous. The six “poesie” paintings are hung in pairs on three walls, and the fourth is hung with portraits of Philip II (who owned them) and his bride Queen Mary I of England — Bloody Mary Herself. "The Rape of Europa and the portrait of Mary were acquired by Mrs. Gardner — hence the exhibition’s stopping here. You can see all the paintings here. It’s really something to see these works of art hung as a set, but there were so many people in there I felt constantly on guard. Because we all know that, besides housekeeping, I just love standing in the way.

2b) The museum, as always, was dressed in its best with flowers of Christmas reds and greens in the courtyard. Somehow the colors in the galleries seemed brighter, too. And getting to go through with rarely-seen friends and exchange new insights and old banter refreshed my spirit.

I wish I could have picked up a few rolls of this in the gift shop.

3) With the Christmas tree in my room, this evening I turned on the tree lights and had my cocktail hour sitting on the bed. It will not surprise you that I woke from an impromptu nap after almost two hours. And it was beautiful! In the words of the late Edith Piaf, je ne regrette rien.

I quite like my tree this year.

Tuesday Afternoon, 14 December

1) Packages in, packages out. No sooner had I mailed two boxes of gifts to the family than the Nice Delivery Service dropped off two boxes of gifts from the family to me — including one from Oldest Nephew Who Must Not Be Tagged. What a nice surprise! They are now under my tree waiting for Christmas.

1a) The very first Christmas gift I received from Oldest Nephew Who Must Not Be Tagged was a red pillow in the shape of a book about the Nutcracker. I just took it out last weekend; I love having it.

2) The Nice Neighborhood Handyman came by for a second coat of spackle or whatever it is around where the ceiling lights will go. After a third coat and a bit of sanding tomorrow, I’ll be completely ready for the return of the electrician. The thought of my beautiful new lights (stained glass for parlor and dining room, a frosted glass globe for the study) is not actually sustaining through the disorder that now stretches into every room of my house.

3) Nor is the national news, which is bringing on more despair than anything else. Realizing, too, that I’ve barely been outside since Thanksgiving (!) — I said to the handyman this morning that I’m unfortunately getting an early start on my Old Man Lifestyle, which is bad — and that I needed to clear my head, I forced myself out of the house for a good walk through the cemetery. Just what I needed.

Reverend Grant, with his parents and brothers.

3a) Not least because a couple good role models are there: William Lloyd Garrison and Rev. Percy Stickney Grant. Today especially it was important to call on them, pay my respects, and pray to have the strength to follow their example.

Mr. Garrison and his wife.

Sunday Afternoon, 12 December -- Christmas Domesticity

1) Though I cannot be said to work at dervish speed, I have been a Domestic Dervish this weekend. Tasks at the levels of both Basic and Christmas Domesticity have been unlocked. It will not surprise you to know that I am ready for my nap now.

2) Saturday I was at last able to load up on Christmas stamps, extra wrapping paper, and chocolates for the Advent calendar along with my usual neighborhood errands. Of course the only problem with chocolates is that, once the Advent calendar is loaded, there’s still all those other chocolates just lying around there without a little door you can only open on a specific day between you and them. Lord, give me strength!

3) Saturday also saw my first attempt at a pear upside-down cake. My sister sent me a dozen beautiful pears for Christmas, and I didn’t want any of them to go to waste; I could use up four of ‘em in a cake! The results proved that a) I am just not that Perfect Gay who does everything right out of Martha Stewart,* and b) SPLAT! Stil, it’s tasty.

SPLAT!

3a) Next time I’ll ladle out some of the syrup before adding the batter, and will spoon the batter more evenly over the surface. I will also not forget to sprinkle the minced candied ginger over the pears before spooning on the batter. Oopsie.

4) Man plans, God laughs, and contractors just say “Actually, you need to . . . . “ At long last I expected new ceiling fixtures to be installed in the parlor, dining room, and study. I got quite a shock earlier in the week when, after cutting holes in the ceilng for the necessary box thingy and wiring and whatnot, the electrician said to me “And I’ll be back after your plaster guy repairs the ceiling.” What, what?! I have been waiting to put up my Christmas tree until these fixtures were installed! (I projected more calm than that sentence implies in our discussion, I promise.)

4a) The neighborhood handyman is coming over tomorrow or Tuesday to take care of the ceilings. In the meantime, my ceilings are adorned with naked bulbs, brown paper, and painter’s tape.

5) Even so, I just had to put up my Christmas tree right now, and the solution was to do so in my room. I’m not sure I’ve had a Christmas tree in my bedroom since childhood (maybe once in graduate school), but it went up Saturday and I’m delighted with it.

6) Today, after producing my column, I put my nose to the Christmas grindstone and completed my shopping and wrapping for the family, all to the background of 1952’s Macao, an improbable crime drama with busty Robert Mitchum, bustier Jane Russell, the remarkable William Bendix, and Gloria Grahame (!) as a casino moll. Her gangster lover sees her trying on a diamond bracelet and says “You don’t want to bother with that cheap stuff” and she looks him dead in the eye and replies “What a way to be cheap.”

7) Yes, I’ve also been watching Alastair Sim in A Christmas Carol, and also The Lion in Winter. And soon it will be the time for The Thin Man and Sunset Boulevard!

*That woman!

Sunday Night, 5 December

1) Now that Repeal Day is over (and it was lovely, thanks to everyone who participated), I can actually look at the last three weeks of the year and what needs to happen: a) electricians coming to install ceiling fixtures in three rooms, b) Christmas, c) administrivia, and d) continued Marie Kondo. Just the thought of all that makes me want to go right back to bed and stay there.

2) Friday, after some delay, I finally received a box of oysters and a shucking knife that I’d been expecting. I’ve never shucked an oyster before, but of course I remember Santa Battaglia in A Confederacy of Dunces talking about her grammaw “shuckin’ dem ersters” in the French Quarter. I didn’t think it’d be a walk in the park, but I also didn’t expect to pierce my thumb on my first attempt. Long story short: cheese and crackers for hors d’oeuvres. I may have to find some stones to break them against my chest, like the otters.

3) Apparently today is Otto Preminger’s birthday, so I put on Forever Amber, and now I’m watching Laura. Both absolute classics.

Clifton Webb as Waldo Lydecker and Dana Andrews as Mark MacPherson in Laura.

Early Tuesday Morning, 30 November

1) Sometimes, wisdom comes along when you really need it. Today I have to start a difficult discussion, and how to engage diplomatically and unapologetically and specifically has been gnawing at me. This morning, I picked up Baltasar Gracián’s The Art of Worldly Wisdom for the first time in awhile for devotional, and wouldn’t you know it, number 245 held part of the answer for me: “Consider it an honor to be criticized, especially by those who speak ill of good people. You should be pained when your things please everyone; it is a sign that they are not good, for perfection belongs only to a few.”

1a) I show up on both sides of this coin. While I have to share criticism today, I have certainly had readers call me to account if they disagree with Etiquetteer.

2) I haven’t left this house since Thursday morning, and all of a sudden I have a lunch with my brother-in-law’s niece visiting from the West Coast. How exciting!

3) The pleasure of seeing items turn up on my calendar is mitigated by Omicron. It confirms that I made the right call in keeping Repeal Day this Friday evening on Zoom and not in person.

3a) And you can still get tickets here.

Monday Afternoon, 29 November -- Lingering Thoughts About Sondheim

1) After the death of Sondheim I felt compelled to do an internet search for A Little Night Music. Heaven knows why . . . probably because my friend Chris got me tickets to see the Huntington’s amazing production a few years ago. So I was shocked to discover that Lesley-Anne Down (!) from Upstairs Downstairs had been in a movie version with no less than Elizabeth Taylor Herself and Diana Rigg! Not to mention Hermione Gingold reprising her role from the original Broadway cast.

Diana Rigg and Lesley-Anne Down.

1a) So that was interesting, mostly for Diana Rigg. I very much prefer the 1990 “Live from Lincoln Center” broadcast of the New York City Opera’s version with Sally Ann Howes and Regina Resnik.

2) But aside from all that, this line from “Love Takes Time” keeps coming back to me: “And Love is a lecture on how to correct your mistakes.” Love is often perceived as romantic, intense, parental, uxorious . . . but lecturing? Could that be considered a branch of compassion? This lyric keeps appearing and reappearing in my thoughts — it completely drove a long and involved dream out of my head before I could even reach the bedroom door — and I feel like I have the key to a great emotional insight here . . . but I can’t find the lock.

3) My first personal encounter with any Sondheim was at Interlochen, singing “You’re Gonna Love Tomorrow” from Follies with Katie, Drew, and Laura the night before we graduated as part of a big, final Broadway Night overseen by the remarkable Mrs. Jones. I did not appreciate at that point in my life how great that song, or that musical, really was. Some things are only gained by experience.

Saturday Evening, 27 November

1) There’s nothing like the potential of houseguests to goad domestic action. With a friend possibly staying here overnight at the end of the week, I knew I could put off no longer beginning Marie Kondo in the study/guest room. The day bed has been heaped with stuff for months, absolutely unwelcoming for company. I knew I had to take action today.

2) Mostly, that meant putting boxes of items Marie Kondo would class as “sentimental” back in the closet, photographs and letters and notebooks, etc. But I began by tossing out a lot of unnecessary papers and other trash, and setting aside a box of Items of Interest for another yard sale.

2a) Two of the more difficult items were framed photographs of my parents, Christmas gifts from years ago, their photos for the church directory. I love my parents (may they rest in peace) but . . . I have never really liked these photos of them. Mother was trying out different hairstyles in each that, ultimately, didn’t really suit her (which is why she chose to return to her classic look), and there are other pictures of Daddy that make him look livelier than these. But . . . they’re my parents, and these pictures are framed so nicely (even if one of them isn’t really to my taste). After a fraught moment I mustered up the courage to thank them both and put them gently into the trash. Still . . .

2b) In a less fraught vein, I went through a large scrapbook that must have come from Arthur Friedman (may he rest in peace), full of 8x10 glossies and magazine covers of movie and Broadway performers. There were about half a dozen from Death in Venice starring Dirk Bogarde, but the scraps were not organized with any rhyme or reason. I retained (as carefully as possible) several of the glossies; some of them might be considered collector’s items on ye Ybay.

2b.i) I met Arthur in 1988 or 1989 through my grad school roommate Tom. Arthur, while irascible, could also be very endearing, and he was very generous to me in invitations to the theatre. He taught me, among other things, that when you’re sitting in the front row at a theatre you must never turn your attention away from the stage, even to look at the program. When one is young, there is so much to learn . . .

2c) I also read through a letter Mother wrote me on November 24, 1985, on red paper that she said she wouldn’t buy again because it was too dark. Aside from news of her cousins and clippings about Edwin Edwards’s latest trial, she wrote about attending the funeral of Elnora, who had been Granny’s maid (and Aunt Kate’s, and cousin Audrey’s) all through my childhood. Elnora was so tall I remember, with catseye glasses and a noticeable mustache — very interesting to a young boy who had never seen a lady with a mustache before. And a very good cook, of course! I kept the letter, but tossed the clippings.

3) Late in the day, during the tea hour, I did a tarot reading for the first time in the long time, and the most enduring message that came from it was this (quoted from Biddy Tarot): “. . . you might be keeping yourself busy with small tasks, but struggling to make progress towards your bigger goals. [emphasis mine] It is time to take a step back and assess whether you are indeed focused on the right things, or if you need to shift your focus to bring your activities back in alignment with your broader goals.” Frankly, I couldn’t agree more.

Wednesday, 24 November -- Day Before

1) Well dahlings, Man plans, and God . . . surprises you with a better idea. I intended to spend the day before Thanksgiving cleaning my house and making a pie. Instead, my old friend and former roommate Anno reached out while I was in New York and suggested we meet at the MFA for lunch. Lunch out vs. scrubbing and cooking? The choice was obvious.

2) This was a great day to sweep out of the house in my winter white overcoat. As I passed the neighbor’s yard en route to the T, however, I was momentarily startled to notice four large, very much alive turkeys quite close to their chain link fence. And then alarmed when one of them noticed me. There was some loud hissing, a couple threatening squawks, and deliberate movement toward me. Remembering that the fence would end soon, leaving nothing between us, I prudently crossed the street.

2a) Returning home, I was pleased to see they were no longer there — or in my yard either.

3) Anno and I met by the Chihuly Pillar of Green Icicles and had lunch in the Great Big Courtyard, the first time we had seen each other in the flesh since autumn of 2019. So much to talk about besides the usual family updates and general catch-up!

4) Afterward we repaired to the second floor galleries. The MFA has been rehung to accommodate the new Center for Netherlandish Art. I quite like what they’ve done with the place, though a few old friends, like Gerome’s L’Eminénce Grise, seem to have been packed off to storage.

The Triumph of the Winter Queen.

4a) This also meant The Triumph of the Winter Queen has been moved to a more central position, which is wonderful.

4b) Anno did take the time to point out Christ in Majesty, a gem in the collection I more often than not pass over. When I was studying for my 50th birthday trip to Venice I learned about Christ Pantocrator, which is in the first church built in Venice (on the island of Torcello), and I do have to wonder if these two interpretations are one and the same. This is one of those occasions where I have to rely on the many people I know who are More Intelligent Than I.

She has absolutely had enough of you.

5) The MFA staff staged a one-day strike last week protesting wages and other aspects of employment there. Touring the museum today made me feel the value these employees bring to the museum, and also some of my experiences 20 years ago working at the Pastel Prison. I very much hope that this will be resolved with justice for the employees.

6) In the evening, I had the opportunity to put Etiquetteer’s words about poise into practice. Long story short, there is a difference between heavy cream and half and half. But rather than panic or get huffy, I held onto my temper, said what I often said to my volunteers — “There’s a solution for everything!” — parked everything in the refrigerator, and went to bed.

6a) Update from Thanksgiving morning: all is well, since I got the last container of heavy cream at Ruggiero’s.

Bacchus, by Elaine Kooning.

Mon-Tues, 22-23 November -- Overnight in New York

1) My purpose in swooping down on mad Manhattan a second time this November was to attend the opening night Monday of A Sherlock Carol starring my high school friend Drew. Thank goodness I rechecked the times of everything #dangeroustoassume. My train left two hours earlier than I thought I’d reserved, and the curtain time was one hour earlier than expected!

Le smize sur le train.

2) My train trip down was punctuated by the occasional whimpering of a dog a few rows down. This made me feel alternately sympathetic and irritated.

3) On arrival, my first stop was the Algonquin, where I had not stayed since January, 2020. Previously I have mentioned that the Algonk is my spiritual home in New York. Ever since I discovered Margaret Case Harriman’s Blessed Are the Debonair on one of the discount racks at Brattle Books, I have just loved the saga of Frank Case, his hotel, and its theatrical residents. Margaret brought that whole world and period to life so vividly in her book, and in his way, so did her father in his books Tales of a Wayward Inn and Do Not Disturb. To sit in its lounge and order a drink was always to recall the story of Patrick Dennis taking Agnes Gooch there on Christmas Night after seeing the Radio City Christmas spectacular. I just loved it.

That big table is round, but it is not the Round Table.

3a) When I walked through both sets of double doors, I stopped in shock, stunned. The Algonquin had been redecorated!

3b) My poor, sweet, beautiful, loving, patient, and long-suffering friends have heard me go through this before. They might as well quote Fred MacMurray in Double Indemnity saying to Edward G. Robinson, “OK, let’s turn the record over and hear the other side.” They heard my volcanic rage when First Methodist “remodeled” the sanctuary in the early 1990s so that it looked more interior-decorated and less dignified (and eliminated both aisles because of unimaginative brides and their mothers who could only envision a triumphant entrance and exit on one center aisle). They did not hear (but may have felt) my sadness and disappointment when my high school tore down Grunow Theatre to expand the Dance Building. Sure, it had been condemned for years and was even falling down and infested with skunks when I was a student, but a) that isn’t my fault, and b) it was a chalice for my youth. I am absolutely sure that there have been other occasions, and someone is likely to pop off and remind me about it/them in pointed detail. I deserve it. I recognize my insufferability.

3c) But . . . the Algonquin Hotel is — WAS — a landmark of a Great Era in New York Theatre and Literature, beyond what I feel about it myself. Frank Case and his indulgence of the characters who became known as the Algonquin Round Table made the Algonquin a place. NOW . . . all that beautiful dark paneling has been painted white, the furnishings were stolen from a 1960s airport, and some truly atrocious light fixtures have been installed. Everything that made the Algonquin charming, historic, individual, has been erased to leave it just like any other Marriott Hotel.

3d) They even got rid of the Round Table!

Margaret Case Harriman opens Blessed Are the Debonair with a remembrance of this clock.

3e) At least they kept the tall case grandfather clock and four or six of the original dining room sconces. Barely a ghost whispering into a modern void.

4) Enough of that. After I checked in and dropped my bags, I sallied forth for a late lunch and then to explore the Diamond District on 47th Street. An Instagram merchant from whom I purchased something earlier this year was only a couple blocks from the Algonk, so I thought I’d check in. The atmosphere — of the street and the storefront where this merchant had a booth — was too active and brightly lit for me to be able to concentrate. Homeless, Hasidim, tourists, natives, people of all kinds bustling and hustling about over these Gorgeous Little Bits. Truly, I found it overwhelming.

5) After some minor plastic surgery in my room, I suited up for the theatre. Because this was a show about Sherlock Holmes, I’d worn my cape from Venice, and if I do say so myself, I looked quite nice. Between getting my ticket and heading in for the show, I lingered in a small bar near the theatre . . . that hadn’t yet received its liquor license. The owner was most obliging, but the experience was, shall we say, lacking.

6) At the theatre, I cast about for examples of the “festive attire” we’d all been encouraged to wear. This trip decided me that from now on, my answer to the dress code “festive attire” will be to wear one (or both) of my Gramma’s Mexican silver filigree brooches. Early on it was mostly flannel shirts and down jackets, which made me feel overdressed and confirmed my opinion at that the middle class has just given up. But later, I saw some sparkly dresses, one very thin gentleman in a suit of shiny winter white, and some other “deft and tasteful suggestions.” The whole affair definitely felt like an occasion — which is what one wants on opening night!

7) I knew no one in a theatre full of people who already knew each other, but did have a delightful exchange with the woman sitting one seat away from me when we realized that no one would be sitting between us and we could use that seat for our belongings. I was so happy not to have to sit through the show with a five-pound black wool cape in my lap!

8) A Sherlock Carol, to be clear, was an absolute triumph on all counts. Having attended the first preview November 11, I could see where things had been tightened, brightened, enhanced, smoothed out, polished — all to magnificent effect. Particularly the Blue Carbuncle, an important plot element. It was very easy to stand for an ovation at the curtain call; what a great night of theatre!

9) But with no after party due to COVID, I was left to myself to figure out dinner. Remembering our lovely dinner at Russian Samovar two blocks away, I thought to dine at the bar. On arriving, I couldn’t even enter the restaurant without the Nice Young Woman outside the entrance asking “Oh, the Etiquetteer! Are you here for the memorial service?” Oopsie, private party! I pressed on down 52nd Street with that awkward feeling of awkwardness averted and ended up at Gallagher’s, a restaurant with a large meat room visible from the street. I sat at the curve of the bar and had a very gentlemanly dinner of 120 years ago: wedge salad, filet mignon with mushroom garlic butter, a pie-sized plate of hash browns, and profiteroles. No wonder the twins are due any day now!

10) In the morning, I drifted down 6th Avenue and Broadway to 28th Street, and over to 5th Avenue with a length of fabric from Liberty’s in my gloved hand, rediscovered thanks to Marie Kondo. And so I was fitted for my first-ever custom shirt by a man who looked very much like Al Franken, especially around the eyeglasses, and kept talking about off-topic topics like the theatre, restaurants, New York, specific Broadway productions, not my shirt. But I enjoyed the experience of this active theatrical atelier (they also do a lot of theatre work), and I’m afraid I left with a few swatches of some exquisite pale grey shirting that just make my mouth water.

11) Afterward I continued drifting to Union Square, in spite of my first resolve not to visit a bookstore this trip*. Their Christmas Market was going on, which led me to a) purchase a couple gifts for family members, and b) have such happy memories of Mother that I called my sister and we talked for quite awhile. Mother, as Empress of the church craft fair, would have loved so much about almost every booth I saw. Some of the offerings were so much in her style! It was pleasant to remember her in this context, and to share that with my sister just before Thanksgiving.

12) Later in the afternoon I met with an etiquette colleague in the lobby of the Ace Hotel — coincidentally, just around the corner from where I was fitted for my shirt. We had a wide-ranging conversation over coffee in deep armchairs, touching on issues light and heavy.

13) At this moment I am on the train, barreling through the black night toward home, near the end of my second bourbon and water, occasionally seeing the waning moon glowing in the night, listening to my latest musical obsession (from Grouplove in 2011), grateful and a little wistful for all the experiences I’ve just had.

14) How on earth can Thanksgiving be less than 48 hours away?!

*Union Square is perilously close to Strand Bookstore.

Monday Evening, 8 November

1) I know better than to listen to high-energy music before bed, much less after I’m in bed. But last night some whimsical perversity led me to a search on the Yewtybbe for Brahms’ Academic Overture for two pianos. Which led me to this recording of it set for pipe organ . . . and percussion. I can only say that if the late Kay Thompson suddenly reappeared as a carousel on acid, it would be as this organ/percussion arrangement of the Academic Overture. And I have no problem with that! Damn, I’d have it at the prelude at my wedding — which might explain why I’m still single, LOL.

1a) Really, just start listening at 07:21 and march on to the end. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll cheer, you’ll go to a seance to summon Kay Thompson back from the dead.

1b) Those of you who know my views on percussion instruments in church will be shocked to find out how much I love this arrangement.

2) Otherwise, some long-postponed or procrastinated items are getting some action this month. I finally sold that mini-fridge left over from the kitchen reno, the one that had been taking up space in the dining room. An electrician is now scheduled to come Pearl Harbor Day to start installing some ceiling fixtures; the dining room has been without since 2016! My vaccine booster is now scheduled for mid-month. And this is just a sampling. It all feels good.

3) We all know my devotion to Movies Made Before I Was Born, but I confess I am most interested in seeing House of Gucci, and now Don’t Look Up. I continue to surprise myself.

Tuesday Morning, 2 November -- Memento Mori, Tempus Fugit, and All That

Sobering thoughts this morning to make haste while one may . . .

1) For my morning pages I remembered an old news clipping Mother had in the kitchen — which I now have in my study — about a train that got snowed in on the prairie overnight, and the nearby farmhouse to which almost everyone trekked in the morning for pancakes and coffee. Turns out the farmer’s wife and her visiting sisters were all cousins of my great-grandfather. I always thought it would make a good children’s story . . . but it’s fallen behind the stove from the back burner, you might say.

2) Moving into the parlor for devotional, I picked up Steven Petrow’s new book Stupid Things I Won’t Do When I Get Old (which I want to review for Etiquetteer anyway). The next chapter was “I Won’t Postpone for Tomorrow What Matters to Me Today,” which included the alarming statistic that men who retire at 55 are 90% more likely to die in the following decade that those who retire at 65. Guess how old I was when I left MIT. That’s right, 55!

2a) Petrow also talked about his visit to Deathclock.com to calculate the anticipated day of his death . . . which was sooner than he expected. My first result indicated that I should have died in 2016! Turns out attitude makes a big difference. If I was really “pessimistic,” I’d’ve died in 2016; if “sadistic,” in 2000. With a “normal” mode, my anticipated date of death was calculated at Friday, August 8, 2036. If “optimistic,” that would have been 2052, but my reaction to that was “Who wants to live that long?!”

2b) If I accept this result, at least I make my 50th high school reunion, which would be absolutely worth it.

3) So . . . so Daddy needs to press on with what matters with a greater sense of urgency.