You may remember I blogged about a time some years ago when I was sure our pussycat Smokey had been mysteriously sealed up in the wall like the poor guy in Poe’s story, The Cask of Amontillado. In fact I had accidentally locked the cat out in the hall – thus the muffled meows! (see MISSING PUSSYCAT, January 4, 2014) Well recently I was in missing-pussycat-panic-mode again, this time convinced that our beloved cat Jackie was lost in the Connecticut woods! It was a...
One evening over a year ago, with no forethought that I recall, I sat down and started writing this blog. Some friends were already blogging and I loved reading their posts. But though I had always enjoyed writing and had taken some writing workshops over the years (and even had a stack of unpublished letters-to-editors in my desk), I never had the ambition or the sitzfleisch to pursue a writing life. Yet that evening the blog title “World Thru Brown Eyes” came to me...
On a cold January night in 1960 a 29 year-old African American dancer and choreographer named Alvin Ailey premiered a piece called Revelations at the 92nd St Y. Inspired by what Ailey called blood memories of his rural Texas childhood, and by Negro spirituals, gospel and the blues, Revelations is about tribulation, human tenacity and the saving grace of music and dance. That night at the Y, Ailey and his young troupe brought down the house and Revelations made modern dance history...
Last month when I wrote here about my friends Celia and Dick, (See A CUP OF SUGAR, Nov 5, 2014) I knew Dick’s health was failing. Sadly that big heart gave out on November 17. Dick Lidz was a wonderful guy – bright, warm, witty, cultured, well-read and world-travelled, a gourmand and a bon vivant, an historian and founder of a prestigious educational publishing company he ran for decades. And Celia and Dick had a wonderful marriage – their biggest...
One day, soon after we moved to the city, I was at home still unpacking cartons when the doorbell rang. I opened the door to a young woman about my age. “Welcome to the building!”, Celia said introducing herself. “I’m baking and believe it or not, I’ve just run out of sugar. May I borrow a cup?” I invited her in and over tea we discovered that Celia and my husband grew up in the same Queens neighborhood, and had...