I'm embarrassed to admit it's been some time since I've written here. Not only has my life become significantly busier, but I've been stalled out on the piece below. I'd started it in the wake of Osama bin-Laden's death, as a comprehensive memoir of my experiences of that day, and the lessons I'd learned from being in New York when the towers fell. It's a piece that proved a little too hard to write comfortably, and I have a lot of ambivalence still about sharing everything I felt on that day. I did learn several important lessons, though, three of which I've decided to share.
* Never Lose Faith in Humanity: As the towers fell, and before anyone knew just what was needed in terms of medical resources, lines had already begun to form at all of Manhattan's hospitals. The people in these lines were there to give blood, and there were so many at St. Vincent's on 12th Street that the line wrapped all the way around the block and on to the next. There was a sort of peace to the line, as we knew that we were doing the best thing possible in the wake of a tragedy whose scope wasn't yet known.
What struck me, though, wasn't just the line of blood donors. There were also people moving up and down the line, handing out water, juice, and bagels. These amazing people weren't from the hospital; they were there on their own, helping people keep their energy up, with refreshments both donated by local businesses, or paid for out-of-pocket.
This outpouring of spontaneous support, and the solidarity of people wanting to help their neighbors, as well as strangers, really spoke to me. In those early hours of the day, no one had put out a call for blood or nutritional support; people came together individually, and with the kindest and most generous of motives. I realized then, that even as it only took a handful of evil men to cause such destruction, that at its core, humanity is ultimately kind and supportive, that we are capable of tremendous acts of kindness towards each other, and that this truth is one that is all too often forgotten. Please, don't forget.
* Live!: Sadly, St. Vincent's didn't have the manpower or supplies to handle the crowds that wanted to donate blood, so we were given the names and addresses of other hospitals in the city that might be able to take our blood. As I headed uptown to St. Clare's, the streets were virtually empty; Manhattan had become almost a ghost town. By this point, the military had sent fighters to patrol the skies above Manhattan, and every time one flew far overhead, anyone who was out in the street stopped moving and listened carefully, everyone with the same look on their faces. It was a look of combined fear and sickness, a look of "oh, God, no, what now?"
Even now, some ten years later, I remember that feeling, and it brings back a deep, visceral response. At the time, I was terrified; there was no accurate news at that point, no one knew exactly what was happening. There had been rumors of as many as eight hijacked planes wreaking havoc across the country, and cell phone service was almost nonexistent, as the most powerful signal towers in the city had been destroyed. Walking uptown, I kept expecting the other shoe to drop, for some additional awful event that would make things so much worse, and then 'it' came to me, an epiphany that took away all that fear.
I suddenly understood that there's only so much within my control, and that if there are terrorists or anyone else who wants me dead, there's very little I can do to stop them. With that reminder of my mortality and the fragility of my existence, I realized that there was no sense in living in fear, that I should focus on what I could control, and not worry about the rest. It's been a hard lesson to learn, and it's one that I haven't always been good at keeping close to my heart, but it's there, and it's something I try to practice as often as possible.
* Smile!: Having made it to St. Clare's, the small knot of us that had made it uptown were disappointed once again as that hospital's representative told us that they couldn't take our blood, either. Feeling thoroughly unhelpful and walking back downtown on Madison Ave., I saw a young woman walking towards me. She looked vaguely familiar, and as I looked at her, she flashed me the most beautiful smile. It was bright, friendly, and warm, and I was floored. I asked her, "Do I know you?" She smiled again, and before continuing on her way simply said, "No, but you looked like you needed a smile."
Wow. I can't begin to describe how that affected me, but I had to take a moment to sit down and think about what had just happened. In the wake of feeling scared and useless, a simple smile from a stranger brought a lightness into my day that was more powerful and surprising than anything I could have imagined.
The lesson I took from this is the easiest of the three that I've described, and perhaps the most important. In my mind, it's the one that ties the other two lessons neatly together, and, simply put, the lesson is to smile. Smile at yourself in the mirror, smile at your friends, smile at strangers. Smile because it's a beautiful day, or because it's raining. Smile because of its power to bring happiness to someone else. Smile because you're here.
Showing posts with label Life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Life. Show all posts
Friday, May 27, 2011
Saturday, April 23, 2011
A favorite recipe, and some seasonal musings
The advent of spring always excites me. It represents a renewal after the dead of winter, and anyone who's made it through at least one New England winter knows just how welcome spring is. In the last week or so, the yards and tree-wells on my street have begun to explode with color, daffodils heralding the grape hyacinths, which in turn have announced the return of the tulips. Petunias are beginning to poke through the mulch, and other, less identifiable flowers have returned as well. The whites and greys of winter can only last so long, and they invariably give way to this incredible, bright natural palette. The trees, which have lain dormant for so long, are now budding again. There are so many metaphors for all this, the renewal of spirit, the rebirth of life, and so on, that I could write entire volumes about the turning of the seasons. Instead, gentle readers, I'll leave it to you to draw your own, personal connections about the return of spring, while I talk about food for a little while.
The recipe below isn't necessarily spring-y, but if you like, I can certainly make something up about the vibrant colors, and the symbolism of the ingredients. Again, I leave that to you. I just wanted to share a personal favorite and invite you all to leave comments on your experiences with it. Now, on to the cooking!
Warm Beet, Chicken, & Walnut Salad
Ingredients:
* 1 bunch of beets, preferably with greens. If you can't get greens, spinach or turnip greens can substitute
* Walnut or pecan halves
* 1 small roll chevre goat cheese
* Boneless, skinless chicken breast
* Brown sugar
* Olive oil
* Rosemary
* Mango chutney
(NB: This is very much a 'to taste' recipe, hence the absence of ingredient amounts/quantities. By all means, feel free to play around to find what works for you)
Procedure:
1. Wash and peel the beets, removing and reserving the greens. Cube the beets into bite-sized pieces and roast at 375°F for about 20 minutes. The goal here is to get the beets to soften without becoming mushy.
2. When the beets are cooked, place them in the bottom of a large, flat-bottomed bowl. A glass bowl is wonderful for this, as it gives a great visual when the dish is complete. Layer the washed beet greens over the cubed beets. Crumble the goat cheese over the greens, making sure the crumbles are evenly distributed.
3. In a saucepan, heat a tablespoon or two of olive oil, and add the nuts and some brown sugar. Toss the nuts until they just start to caramelize. I usually take them out of the pan when they've just started to brown/blacken on the edges. Make sure you don't use too much oil, or you'll wind up with greasy nuts, and, well, ick! Once the nuts are done, sprinkle them into the bowl, over the cheese.
4. In the same pan you cooked the nuts, saute strips of chicken breast with some rosemary (fresh is always better, but there's nothing wrong with dried for this recipe) and a few healthy spoonfuls of mango chutney. Once the chicken's cooked through, place it in the serving bowl on top of the nuts.
5. That's it! You're ready to serve.
Although it'd work equally well as an appetizer or an entree, this is really a one-dish meal. There's no need to serve anything else, although some nice, crusty bread is a nice accompaniment. The flavors and textures work on a number of levels, and I've never received anything but rave reviews when I've served this dish.
The variations on this dish are endless...instead of using just beets, a mix of root veggies could add a new dimension of flavor and color. Imagine the gorgeous confetti effect from a mix of beets, carrots, and parsnips! The sweetness of the chutney and the tartness of the goat cheese could be highlighted with dried cherries or cranberries, and slivered almonds in place of walnuts or pecans would change the nature of the entire dish, in a wonderful way. Play around with my recipe, make it your own, and let me know how it turns out!
Bon appetit!
The recipe below isn't necessarily spring-y, but if you like, I can certainly make something up about the vibrant colors, and the symbolism of the ingredients. Again, I leave that to you. I just wanted to share a personal favorite and invite you all to leave comments on your experiences with it. Now, on to the cooking!
Warm Beet, Chicken, & Walnut Salad
Ingredients:
* 1 bunch of beets, preferably with greens. If you can't get greens, spinach or turnip greens can substitute
* Walnut or pecan halves
* 1 small roll chevre goat cheese
* Boneless, skinless chicken breast
* Brown sugar
* Olive oil
* Rosemary
* Mango chutney
(NB: This is very much a 'to taste' recipe, hence the absence of ingredient amounts/quantities. By all means, feel free to play around to find what works for you)
Procedure:
1. Wash and peel the beets, removing and reserving the greens. Cube the beets into bite-sized pieces and roast at 375°F for about 20 minutes. The goal here is to get the beets to soften without becoming mushy.
2. When the beets are cooked, place them in the bottom of a large, flat-bottomed bowl. A glass bowl is wonderful for this, as it gives a great visual when the dish is complete. Layer the washed beet greens over the cubed beets. Crumble the goat cheese over the greens, making sure the crumbles are evenly distributed.
3. In a saucepan, heat a tablespoon or two of olive oil, and add the nuts and some brown sugar. Toss the nuts until they just start to caramelize. I usually take them out of the pan when they've just started to brown/blacken on the edges. Make sure you don't use too much oil, or you'll wind up with greasy nuts, and, well, ick! Once the nuts are done, sprinkle them into the bowl, over the cheese.
4. In the same pan you cooked the nuts, saute strips of chicken breast with some rosemary (fresh is always better, but there's nothing wrong with dried for this recipe) and a few healthy spoonfuls of mango chutney. Once the chicken's cooked through, place it in the serving bowl on top of the nuts.
5. That's it! You're ready to serve.
Although it'd work equally well as an appetizer or an entree, this is really a one-dish meal. There's no need to serve anything else, although some nice, crusty bread is a nice accompaniment. The flavors and textures work on a number of levels, and I've never received anything but rave reviews when I've served this dish.
The variations on this dish are endless...instead of using just beets, a mix of root veggies could add a new dimension of flavor and color. Imagine the gorgeous confetti effect from a mix of beets, carrots, and parsnips! The sweetness of the chutney and the tartness of the goat cheese could be highlighted with dried cherries or cranberries, and slivered almonds in place of walnuts or pecans would change the nature of the entire dish, in a wonderful way. Play around with my recipe, make it your own, and let me know how it turns out!
Bon appetit!
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Cooking is love
I love to cook, but I don't do it often enough. Not seriously, at least. It feels like too much trouble to bang around my pots and pans and get really involved in it if it's just for me. When there's someone to cook for, though, I leap into action. For me, cooking's not only fun, but one of the best ways I can show someone I care. Cooking is an act of love and friendship, it's me saying "Here, I made this for you. I gave all my attention to this task so that you might enjoy it, because I care about you."
I've cooked for friends, family, and lovers, but the one person I love cooking for most is my son. He's a couple of months shy of his third birthday, and he loves spending time in the kitchen with Daddy, helping him cook. His enthusiasm is so contagious, and he insists on being put up on the counter to watch what's going on. He helps sometimes where he can, stirring a pot (with careful supervision!) or pouring ingredients together. I've gotten him stated on spices recently; cinnamon sugar and curry powder are hits, Tabasco isn't too popular. He loves minced garlic straight from the spoon, and he's adept at stealing pinches of salt from the bowl.
Caleb's pretty much fearless, and the fact that he's so willing to try new foods makes me eager to keep experimenting in the kitchen. Sure, I'll occasionally take the easy way out and drop a few chicken nuggets on his plate, or take him out for pizza, but more often, I'm there at the stove, tossing ingredients around while he asks me what I'm doing. The other night I made a makeshift Pad Thai for him; first time he'd eaten it, first time I'd made it. It turned out great! Caleb helped grate the ginger, and he put the shrimp in the pan. Later, he helped make chocolate pudding for dessert (his choice!)
In the past, he's helped me dredge fish for frying, and he's made hand-rolled meatballs. He's seasoned the hamburgers and requested tomatoes in his grilled cheese. He knows that we have to wait for the butter to bubble before starting the scrambled eggs. Despite his distaste for Tabasco, he does alright with heat. I underestimate the boy sometimes when I give him something 'kid friendly,' when all he wants is my grown-up spiced food.
Spending time in the kitchen is a fantastic bonding experience for us; he puts so much attention into watching what I'm doing, and I focus my attention on him, explaining everything and watching his reactions. We laugh and we learn, we watch heat transform raw ingredients into finished food, and we create memories to last a lifetime. When dinner is ready, we sit, talk about dinosaurs and Elmo, and practice our manners. The act of pouring my heart into dinner, of creating 'art' to nourish my son, is only one way I show the boundless love I have for him, but it's a special way, one that's uniquely ours, and one I look forward to at every possible opportunity.
Truly, cooking is love.
I've cooked for friends, family, and lovers, but the one person I love cooking for most is my son. He's a couple of months shy of his third birthday, and he loves spending time in the kitchen with Daddy, helping him cook. His enthusiasm is so contagious, and he insists on being put up on the counter to watch what's going on. He helps sometimes where he can, stirring a pot (with careful supervision!) or pouring ingredients together. I've gotten him stated on spices recently; cinnamon sugar and curry powder are hits, Tabasco isn't too popular. He loves minced garlic straight from the spoon, and he's adept at stealing pinches of salt from the bowl.
Caleb's pretty much fearless, and the fact that he's so willing to try new foods makes me eager to keep experimenting in the kitchen. Sure, I'll occasionally take the easy way out and drop a few chicken nuggets on his plate, or take him out for pizza, but more often, I'm there at the stove, tossing ingredients around while he asks me what I'm doing. The other night I made a makeshift Pad Thai for him; first time he'd eaten it, first time I'd made it. It turned out great! Caleb helped grate the ginger, and he put the shrimp in the pan. Later, he helped make chocolate pudding for dessert (his choice!)
In the past, he's helped me dredge fish for frying, and he's made hand-rolled meatballs. He's seasoned the hamburgers and requested tomatoes in his grilled cheese. He knows that we have to wait for the butter to bubble before starting the scrambled eggs. Despite his distaste for Tabasco, he does alright with heat. I underestimate the boy sometimes when I give him something 'kid friendly,' when all he wants is my grown-up spiced food.
Spending time in the kitchen is a fantastic bonding experience for us; he puts so much attention into watching what I'm doing, and I focus my attention on him, explaining everything and watching his reactions. We laugh and we learn, we watch heat transform raw ingredients into finished food, and we create memories to last a lifetime. When dinner is ready, we sit, talk about dinosaurs and Elmo, and practice our manners. The act of pouring my heart into dinner, of creating 'art' to nourish my son, is only one way I show the boundless love I have for him, but it's a special way, one that's uniquely ours, and one I look forward to at every possible opportunity.
Truly, cooking is love.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
A Roman Honeymoon, part 1
The travelogue below is the first entry in my account of honeymooning in Rome. Re-reading it brings up some wonderful, if bittersweet memories. I hope it gives some sense of the flavor of the Eternal City.
-----------------------
8/17/06
Day two in Rome. We arrived yesterday morning after a too-long plane trip and quickly found our home during our honeymoon, Hotel Raganelli, a charming little hotel on Via Aurelia. We napped until early evening, then set out to explore this wonderful city, simultaneously old and moderns, familiar and foreign, strange but wonderful, and absolutely charming.
I've never spoken Italian before, but I've learned a few phrases that have been quite useful in getting around. During last night's explorations, we walked from our hotel down to near the Vatican, to get a feel for the city and its people. We had a lovely time, stopping for dinner at an hosteria, Ristorante da Vittorio il Ciociaro on Via Barletta. Our first real Italian meal comprised of a lovely bottle of Italian shiraz, along with a plate of prosciutto and mozzarella di bufala. It was followed with my spaghetti alla vongole and Debbie's dish, a heavy but excellent dish of penne with sausage and guanciale in a cheese and cream sauce. We followed this with a light salad and some tiny cookies, then returned to the hotel.
Our plan for today was to first see the Colosseum and then find Bernini's Ecstasy of Saint Theresa of Avila. With some help from our hotel's concierge, Sandro, we figured out the basics of getting around by bus and metro, and off we went. We took the bus to the end of the line at Piazza Venezia, right by the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, an impressive monument by anyone's standards. Near the tomb, we encountered the ruins of the Foro di Nerva and continued on toward the Colosseum.
I'd wanted to see the Colosseum since I was a little boy, and I wasn't disappointed. The exterior is just like every picture I've ever seen, but to see it first-hand and up-close was incredible. To think that it was build almost 2000 years ago, by hand and with non-machined tools, is amazing. Even more amazing is that is regularly hosted capacity crows of about 50,000 people, whose admission to these events was comped by the Empire. Being modern tourists, however, Debbie and I paid €11 each for admission.
Inside, as out, the building is in various stages of, hmm, what's a better word than "decay?" To walk the same stones trod by Emperor and commoner alike was an experience not soon to be forgotten, and the views from every angle, looking both inwards and out, were quite stunning.
From the Colosseum we took the metro up to Termini Station and had a brief lunch before setting out to find St. Theresa. To get our bearings, we set out to find Piazza della Repubblica, which had a stunning fountain and a beautiful backdrop of buildings. It's also worth noting that we passed by Diocletian's baths, but chose not to go in after taking some great photo opportunities, instead.
P. della Repubblica was also home to Santa Maria degli Angeli, a basilica with an entry so impressive that I was struck breathless on walking in. It opens on a huge dome, lit on top by windows that cast rainbows of light around the entry. As pretty as the "standard" marble inlays on the floor were, Debbie was struck by the astronomical calendar and astrological signs also inlaid there. The basilica also hosts the largest pipe organ I've ever seen. After exploring for a bit, we exited via the sacristy, which is on the other side of Dicoletian's baths, and began to search for St. Theresa's home, Santa Maria della Vittoria.
S. Maria d. Vittoria was hard to find, since our directions to it were sketchy at best, and it wasn't on our map. When we did finally find the place, it was very small, but with decorations inside absolutely deserving of the term "baroque." There were putti and angels everywhere, along with paintings and carvings galore. I'd been wanting to see St. Theresa since I first learned of it, and when it finally came into view, I was surprised at how small it seemed, but also immediately awed by its beauty and workmanship. Before now, I had never noticed the roughly carve, cloud-like stone that St. Theresa laid upon.
After admiring the art for a good time, I joined Debbie in the small gift shop, presided over by an old Carmelite(?) monk. Somehow I was able to convey to him that we had just been married, and he gifted us with a rosary that he blessed for us. Thanking him profusely, we took our leave and first made our way to Il Fontina del Tritone, then happened to chance upon Via delle Quattro Fontane. On the way, we also chanced upon Palazzo Barberini, but chose not to enter due to the fact that the would soon be closing. I do very much hope to return to this museum during our trip, as our guidebook describes an outstanding collection of art.
As amazing as these fountains were, we were determined to make it to the Trevi Fountain. We did a little shopping along the way, picking up a few bottles of absinthe and some delicious fruit (grapes and strawberries, whose bag, later soaked through at Trevi, split open and ruined Debbie's clothes, much to her chagrin), and looking at Murano glass. There was a glass chess set that amused us to no end - delicate and amusing figures, with the sides being represented by "Ashkenaziditi" and "Sefarditi."
The Trevi Fountan was just amazingly gorgeous, and we arrived just moments before they lit it for the night. Debbie'd been accosted by a high-pressure rose salesman, but I was able to talk him down to €1 for a single rose. We hung out at the fountain for a while before throwing coins in, hoping for a return to Rome at some point. The atmosphere there was incredible, tourists and Roman s alike out for the evening and in high spirits, enjoying both the beauty of the fountain and the jovial moods of all present.
As we moved on, we stumbled upon the Piazza del Sant'Ignacio, whose construction was again touched by Bernini, and then the HQ of the Carabinieri, where we were able to see some recovered artifacts. At this point we chose to go home, and made it back to where we started, the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, lit beautifully for the night.
Coming back to V. Aurelia, we wanted dinner, but we sat at a restaurant for 30+ minutes, having receive nothing but menus. We went elsewhere, and were served almost immediately. Returning to the hotel, we were exhausted after an amazing day. Tomorrow we hope to see the Vatican, if we have the energy.
Oh, also: Nocciolo (hazelnut) gelato = SO GOOD!
-----------------------
8/17/06
Day two in Rome. We arrived yesterday morning after a too-long plane trip and quickly found our home during our honeymoon, Hotel Raganelli, a charming little hotel on Via Aurelia. We napped until early evening, then set out to explore this wonderful city, simultaneously old and moderns, familiar and foreign, strange but wonderful, and absolutely charming.
I've never spoken Italian before, but I've learned a few phrases that have been quite useful in getting around. During last night's explorations, we walked from our hotel down to near the Vatican, to get a feel for the city and its people. We had a lovely time, stopping for dinner at an hosteria, Ristorante da Vittorio il Ciociaro on Via Barletta. Our first real Italian meal comprised of a lovely bottle of Italian shiraz, along with a plate of prosciutto and mozzarella di bufala. It was followed with my spaghetti alla vongole and Debbie's dish, a heavy but excellent dish of penne with sausage and guanciale in a cheese and cream sauce. We followed this with a light salad and some tiny cookies, then returned to the hotel.
Our plan for today was to first see the Colosseum and then find Bernini's Ecstasy of Saint Theresa of Avila. With some help from our hotel's concierge, Sandro, we figured out the basics of getting around by bus and metro, and off we went. We took the bus to the end of the line at Piazza Venezia, right by the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, an impressive monument by anyone's standards. Near the tomb, we encountered the ruins of the Foro di Nerva and continued on toward the Colosseum.
I'd wanted to see the Colosseum since I was a little boy, and I wasn't disappointed. The exterior is just like every picture I've ever seen, but to see it first-hand and up-close was incredible. To think that it was build almost 2000 years ago, by hand and with non-machined tools, is amazing. Even more amazing is that is regularly hosted capacity crows of about 50,000 people, whose admission to these events was comped by the Empire. Being modern tourists, however, Debbie and I paid €11 each for admission.
Inside, as out, the building is in various stages of, hmm, what's a better word than "decay?" To walk the same stones trod by Emperor and commoner alike was an experience not soon to be forgotten, and the views from every angle, looking both inwards and out, were quite stunning.
From the Colosseum we took the metro up to Termini Station and had a brief lunch before setting out to find St. Theresa. To get our bearings, we set out to find Piazza della Repubblica, which had a stunning fountain and a beautiful backdrop of buildings. It's also worth noting that we passed by Diocletian's baths, but chose not to go in after taking some great photo opportunities, instead.
P. della Repubblica was also home to Santa Maria degli Angeli, a basilica with an entry so impressive that I was struck breathless on walking in. It opens on a huge dome, lit on top by windows that cast rainbows of light around the entry. As pretty as the "standard" marble inlays on the floor were, Debbie was struck by the astronomical calendar and astrological signs also inlaid there. The basilica also hosts the largest pipe organ I've ever seen. After exploring for a bit, we exited via the sacristy, which is on the other side of Dicoletian's baths, and began to search for St. Theresa's home, Santa Maria della Vittoria.
S. Maria d. Vittoria was hard to find, since our directions to it were sketchy at best, and it wasn't on our map. When we did finally find the place, it was very small, but with decorations inside absolutely deserving of the term "baroque." There were putti and angels everywhere, along with paintings and carvings galore. I'd been wanting to see St. Theresa since I first learned of it, and when it finally came into view, I was surprised at how small it seemed, but also immediately awed by its beauty and workmanship. Before now, I had never noticed the roughly carve, cloud-like stone that St. Theresa laid upon.
After admiring the art for a good time, I joined Debbie in the small gift shop, presided over by an old Carmelite(?) monk. Somehow I was able to convey to him that we had just been married, and he gifted us with a rosary that he blessed for us. Thanking him profusely, we took our leave and first made our way to Il Fontina del Tritone, then happened to chance upon Via delle Quattro Fontane. On the way, we also chanced upon Palazzo Barberini, but chose not to enter due to the fact that the would soon be closing. I do very much hope to return to this museum during our trip, as our guidebook describes an outstanding collection of art.
As amazing as these fountains were, we were determined to make it to the Trevi Fountain. We did a little shopping along the way, picking up a few bottles of absinthe and some delicious fruit (grapes and strawberries, whose bag, later soaked through at Trevi, split open and ruined Debbie's clothes, much to her chagrin), and looking at Murano glass. There was a glass chess set that amused us to no end - delicate and amusing figures, with the sides being represented by "Ashkenaziditi" and "Sefarditi."
The Trevi Fountan was just amazingly gorgeous, and we arrived just moments before they lit it for the night. Debbie'd been accosted by a high-pressure rose salesman, but I was able to talk him down to €1 for a single rose. We hung out at the fountain for a while before throwing coins in, hoping for a return to Rome at some point. The atmosphere there was incredible, tourists and Roman s alike out for the evening and in high spirits, enjoying both the beauty of the fountain and the jovial moods of all present.
As we moved on, we stumbled upon the Piazza del Sant'Ignacio, whose construction was again touched by Bernini, and then the HQ of the Carabinieri, where we were able to see some recovered artifacts. At this point we chose to go home, and made it back to where we started, the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, lit beautifully for the night.
Coming back to V. Aurelia, we wanted dinner, but we sat at a restaurant for 30+ minutes, having receive nothing but menus. We went elsewhere, and were served almost immediately. Returning to the hotel, we were exhausted after an amazing day. Tomorrow we hope to see the Vatican, if we have the energy.
Oh, also: Nocciolo (hazelnut) gelato = SO GOOD!
A Eulogy for My Grandfather
My grandfather died seven years ago this week (4/2/04); we miss him terribly. What follows below is the eulogy I delivered at his funeral. I nearly lost my handwritten copy in a house fire; I transcribe it here for posterity.
-----------------------------------
In the few minutes I have to speak to you all, it would be impossible to adequately honor my grandfather's life. He was many things to many people; to some, he was all things. Burton leaves behind a large and loving family who already miss him dearly. From the three generations of family here today, to his adopted children from all corners of the globe, to friends both old and new, Burton was a rock, an island of stability in a changing world. He was temperate, loving, patient. He was always ready for a conversation or a few off-key bars of "Old Man River." The rock that was Burton Bronsther has been taken from us. We now must look to each other for support and to honor his life, deeds, and accomplishments.
Burton was an incredible father, husband, grandfather, brother, and uncle. He loved and fretted over each and every one of us, and looks to ensure that we we all doing well. To see him smile, hear his deep bass laugh and have his approval was a blessing beyond compare.
Burt's kind nature and his strength of character can be seen not only in the presence today of people who knew him as a young man, but also in his ability to foster new friendships worldwide. He touched so many lives around the world, and his appearance, his personality, were so magnetic that they drew even more to him. Children often mistook him for Santa Claus; adults thought he was Raymond Burr. He was such an amazing man that for decades people would approach him in the most unlikely places, remembering that he operated on their sons and daughters in years far removed.
As a surgeon, he had no equal. His mentor, Dr. Willis Potts, would send out recommendation letters telling people that while Burt had the largest hands he'd ever seen on a doctor. each finger was a gift from God. His surgical precision, ease, and speed were such that med students would place bets with each other on how quickly he could complete a given operation. As a founder of SACOW along with my grandmother and as a professor of medicine, he instructed generations of doctors and saved countless lives. He cared deeply for his patients, a fact I learned early on as he recounted the day's cases at the dinner table.
Now that he is gone, we must cherish our memories of Dr. Burton Bronsther, MD, PhD, FACS, etc. His most important designations were father, husband, and friend.
I remember him not only as my grandfather, but as the man who raised me as his own son. I looked to him and learned from him as a father. He taught me all the things a boy needed to know: how to ride a bike, how to root for the home team, how to catch and hit and throw a ball. He also taught me what is was to be a man, how to be patient, strong, loving, and compassionate. He taught me to be unafraid, to face a problem head-on. He taught me kindness and charity, and he taught me to believe in the strength and wonderment of humanity. On a lighter note, those of you who were ever in a car with him can rest easy knowing that he wasn't the one who taught me to drive.
Please, take time today to share your memories of Burton with the rest of us.
Goodbye, Pop-Pop, and godspeed.
-----------------------------------
In the few minutes I have to speak to you all, it would be impossible to adequately honor my grandfather's life. He was many things to many people; to some, he was all things. Burton leaves behind a large and loving family who already miss him dearly. From the three generations of family here today, to his adopted children from all corners of the globe, to friends both old and new, Burton was a rock, an island of stability in a changing world. He was temperate, loving, patient. He was always ready for a conversation or a few off-key bars of "Old Man River." The rock that was Burton Bronsther has been taken from us. We now must look to each other for support and to honor his life, deeds, and accomplishments.
Burton was an incredible father, husband, grandfather, brother, and uncle. He loved and fretted over each and every one of us, and looks to ensure that we we all doing well. To see him smile, hear his deep bass laugh and have his approval was a blessing beyond compare.
Burt's kind nature and his strength of character can be seen not only in the presence today of people who knew him as a young man, but also in his ability to foster new friendships worldwide. He touched so many lives around the world, and his appearance, his personality, were so magnetic that they drew even more to him. Children often mistook him for Santa Claus; adults thought he was Raymond Burr. He was such an amazing man that for decades people would approach him in the most unlikely places, remembering that he operated on their sons and daughters in years far removed.
As a surgeon, he had no equal. His mentor, Dr. Willis Potts, would send out recommendation letters telling people that while Burt had the largest hands he'd ever seen on a doctor. each finger was a gift from God. His surgical precision, ease, and speed were such that med students would place bets with each other on how quickly he could complete a given operation. As a founder of SACOW along with my grandmother and as a professor of medicine, he instructed generations of doctors and saved countless lives. He cared deeply for his patients, a fact I learned early on as he recounted the day's cases at the dinner table.
Now that he is gone, we must cherish our memories of Dr. Burton Bronsther, MD, PhD, FACS, etc. His most important designations were father, husband, and friend.
I remember him not only as my grandfather, but as the man who raised me as his own son. I looked to him and learned from him as a father. He taught me all the things a boy needed to know: how to ride a bike, how to root for the home team, how to catch and hit and throw a ball. He also taught me what is was to be a man, how to be patient, strong, loving, and compassionate. He taught me to be unafraid, to face a problem head-on. He taught me kindness and charity, and he taught me to believe in the strength and wonderment of humanity. On a lighter note, those of you who were ever in a car with him can rest easy knowing that he wasn't the one who taught me to drive.
Please, take time today to share your memories of Burton with the rest of us.
Goodbye, Pop-Pop, and godspeed.
Monday, March 28, 2011
The first in a long line of "Awful Roommate" posts
This is something I dug out of my archives. After my wife and I separated, I found a new apartment in Providence, but I needed someone to share the rent. The landlord suggested I meet with D*****, who'd been one of his tenants the year before. I was hesitant, because D was 21 and a student, where I was a 30-something dad. However, D promised to keep the apartment relatively clean, and to refrain from smoking pot indoors, so I agreed to make him my roommate. As you'll read below, he was a less-than-ideal human being. Sadly, his replacement was worse. What follows is the text of a frustrated posting I made to Craigslist. Enjoy!
------------
$1 Idiot Roommate for Sale - ideal housepet (Providence, RI)
Yes, idiot boy is in Providence, but I'm posting in the hopes that someone will take him far, far, away. He deserves a good home that I can no longer provide.
I like to privately call him "douchetard" or "idiot boy," but you can rename him to your liking. Idiot boy has a great number of positive qualities, which are outlined below. He'd make a great indoor or outdoor pet, or perhaps a medical test subject. Whatever; do with him what you'd like, just as long as you take him.
Positive qualities:
* Excellent fire starter - idiot boy is skilled at creating flames, as evidenced tonight by his profound ability to create a grease fire in the kitchen. Even better, he sustained the flames by blowing on them. This is a key survival skill.
* Economically and ecologically sound - idiot boy will save you money on hot water and soap, since he doesn't seem to use either. He also saves water by declining to flush his solids. This is another good thing - ecological awareness.
* Abstract thinking - idiot boy is fond of randomly rearranging furniture that he doesn't use. This shows an ability to think outside the box, and can be cultivated into a career in modern art.
* Powerful lungs - idiot boy's lungs are strong enough to take in, and then put out, copious amounts of marijuana smoke, which will perfume your living area with sweet herbal essences. No more needing to use air sprays; just let him do all the work!
* Ability to justify behaviors - idiot boy may ignore your instructions to him, but not for very long. He will use your good kitchen knives "just for a second" to saw through food boxes. This shows surprising self-awareness and higher-level thinking.
* Animal Husbandry - by allowing his food to rot on the stovetop, idiot boy has encouraged visitation by small rodents, which he will no doubt husband into a significant swarm of soft, cuddly creatures. Perfect for the kids! Idiot boy has also encouraged the growth of microfauna by leaving dish sponges to soak in filthy chili-water.
* Quiet - idiot boy is generally pretty quiet, particularly during his frequent vomiting episodes. These episodes are typically followed by comments such as "sorry, dude, Kool-Aid and bbq burritos aren't a good match." As a further point of clarification on "Ability to justify behaviors," above, he's also used the phrase, "sorry, I was going to clean the puke off the toilet seat in a little while."
* Innovative - when his phone died, idiot boy found a way to use mine, saying he was calling his grandfather. His grandfather is apparently a 20-something drug dealer, which in some part speaks to genetic superiority. If his grandfather looks that good, idiot boy is sure to age well, too.
* Resourceful - idiot boy managed to locate and transport a loveseat to our back porch, a loveseat he described as "in pretty good shape." By this, I assume he meant 'still vaguely shaped like a loveseat.' Still, he managed it all on his own.
Please inquire immediately; idiot boy really deserves a nice home or kennel to call his own. Act now and I'll throw the loveseat in free of charge.
* Location: Providence, RI
* it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
------------
$1 Idiot Roommate for Sale - ideal housepet (Providence, RI)
Yes, idiot boy is in Providence, but I'm posting in the hopes that someone will take him far, far, away. He deserves a good home that I can no longer provide.
I like to privately call him "douchetard" or "idiot boy," but you can rename him to your liking. Idiot boy has a great number of positive qualities, which are outlined below. He'd make a great indoor or outdoor pet, or perhaps a medical test subject. Whatever; do with him what you'd like, just as long as you take him.
Positive qualities:
* Excellent fire starter - idiot boy is skilled at creating flames, as evidenced tonight by his profound ability to create a grease fire in the kitchen. Even better, he sustained the flames by blowing on them. This is a key survival skill.
* Economically and ecologically sound - idiot boy will save you money on hot water and soap, since he doesn't seem to use either. He also saves water by declining to flush his solids. This is another good thing - ecological awareness.
* Abstract thinking - idiot boy is fond of randomly rearranging furniture that he doesn't use. This shows an ability to think outside the box, and can be cultivated into a career in modern art.
* Powerful lungs - idiot boy's lungs are strong enough to take in, and then put out, copious amounts of marijuana smoke, which will perfume your living area with sweet herbal essences. No more needing to use air sprays; just let him do all the work!
* Ability to justify behaviors - idiot boy may ignore your instructions to him, but not for very long. He will use your good kitchen knives "just for a second" to saw through food boxes. This shows surprising self-awareness and higher-level thinking.
* Animal Husbandry - by allowing his food to rot on the stovetop, idiot boy has encouraged visitation by small rodents, which he will no doubt husband into a significant swarm of soft, cuddly creatures. Perfect for the kids! Idiot boy has also encouraged the growth of microfauna by leaving dish sponges to soak in filthy chili-water.
* Quiet - idiot boy is generally pretty quiet, particularly during his frequent vomiting episodes. These episodes are typically followed by comments such as "sorry, dude, Kool-Aid and bbq burritos aren't a good match." As a further point of clarification on "Ability to justify behaviors," above, he's also used the phrase, "sorry, I was going to clean the puke off the toilet seat in a little while."
* Innovative - when his phone died, idiot boy found a way to use mine, saying he was calling his grandfather. His grandfather is apparently a 20-something drug dealer, which in some part speaks to genetic superiority. If his grandfather looks that good, idiot boy is sure to age well, too.
* Resourceful - idiot boy managed to locate and transport a loveseat to our back porch, a loveseat he described as "in pretty good shape." By this, I assume he meant 'still vaguely shaped like a loveseat.' Still, he managed it all on his own.
Please inquire immediately; idiot boy really deserves a nice home or kennel to call his own. Act now and I'll throw the loveseat in free of charge.
* Location: Providence, RI
* it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
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