After my stroke, Andrew has officially created the position of "Social Director." My coming to the razor-thin edge of almost dying affected all of us. In his new post, he wanted to take advantage of living closer to the city. No longer tucked away in the country, where the city was a good hour and a half by car, now, on a good night, we are only 36 minutes from midtown. (Andrew times it.) We regularly shoot into Manhattan to hear concerts at Carnegie Hall and Geffen Hall, attend the opera at The Metropolitan, see Broadway shows, and visit museums. In our town, we have Tarrytown Music Hall, and (I like to boast this), the "100 Best Jazz Clubs in the World," Jazz Forum. For upcoming concerts, I'll get a text: "Listen to Sibelius violin concerto and Dvorak 7. Later in the month we hear Beethoven quartet 15. His late quartets are extraordinary." Next text: "Also Silbelius symp 1 and Grieg piano concerto." We recently had tickets to "Death of...
It was afternoon, and my phone rang. A call from grandson in Brooklyn. He couldn't get the screen right, but I was charmed by him. Delighted by him! Uplifted by him! He made my day. I look at this photo often as I dearly miss my mother, and a very close friend passed last weekend. (In his sleep, in his bed next to the man who was the love of his life. JL made a graceful departure we would all want to happen to us.) The photo makes me at least try to embrace the continuum of life. What's the phrase? One day at a time. Look around you and seek inspiration from the little things. (For me, it was from this under-3-feet-tall person calling me in the middle of the day to say hello and "I love you, Bebe.")