“Argus turns 50”
I got my D back on Tuesday – picked her up at the airport just before 9pm on Tuesday. She seemed happy with my house cleaning and her welcome home flowers.
We caught up on several weeks of “This is Us” episodes with popcorn on Wednesday night. We’re going to miss this show – I think there are only four episodes left in the final season. I can sense that eye-roll Brent!
Finn came over for dinner on Thursday. He was in good spirits as he told us about his work as acting produce manager – he submitted the order for all the produce to be delivered, taking into account what was on special in the mail flyers. I hope he didn’t order too much or too little of anything – but he seemed confident. We enjoyed the regular ready made dishes that Finn likes from Market Street – salmon, parmesan crusted chicken, stuffed mushrooms and green beans. Diana put together a belated Easter bag for him and we made sure he didn’t eat it all before he left – such a sweet tooth.
We signed up for memberships at the local fitness center, Apex on Friday afternoon. It’s just around the corner and has a very large pool, as well as indoor running track and machines. I took advantage of this on Sunday morning with my first swim in many months. I’m sure I’ll be a bit achy in my shoulders tomorrow.
On a long walk earlier in the week, I saw Wishbone Ash advertised on the sign at the Guitar Sanctuary in Adriatica. This is a band that I first enjoyed in University, 40 years ago. I still play their Argus album on a regular basis. Could they really be playing within walking distance of our home? Some research indicated they were indeed – on Friday, and tickets were still available. Done!
We walked to the concert, and enjoyed chatting with the folks in line – the majority of whom had seen the band many times – they have a very loyal following. The couple next to us were from Motherwell, Scotland and have lived in Austin for 30 years – it was nice to hear a Scottish accent in McKinney. Bo and Jim from the local radio morning show introduced the band. It’s been a while since I heard radio personalities introducing a band – used to happen pretty regularly. Those two have been doing the same morning show, with all the crazy characters, since before I moved to Dallas in 1986.
Andy Powell and the band served up a treat – the first part of the show was Argus from start to finish, a celebration of the album turning fifty years old the day before. Here are my three favourites:
What a great evening of twin lead guitars and nostalgia. Thanks to Diana for putting up with the guitar noodling and music that she didn’t know at all. It was so nice to have a quick walk home rather than a long drive home from downtown Dallas.
Rachel joined us for dinner on Saturday night and regaled us with stories of her work and dating lives.
At some point during the week, Clorinda made a visit to Costco and got to drive a buggy around, chasing Caroline down. She really loves these outings:
I just left Diana outside, watching Season 1, Episode 5 of “Somebody Feed Phil” on Netflix – an excellent tour of New Orleans restaurants. She’s going to be ready to go back again when she finishes the episode, featuring Shaya several times.
I enjoyed three relatively short books this week.
The first was “Pops” be Michael Chabon, one of my very favourite authors. This is a collection of short stories, published in various magazines, and all on the topic of raising his children. I thoroughly enjoyed this quick read.
I enjoyed the introductory quote:
“I’ve been there and back
And I know how far it is”
Ronnie Lane
From “Introduction: The Opposite of Writing”:
“At a literary party the summer before my first novel was published, I found myself alone with a writer I admired, on the deck of our hosts’ house along the Truckee River. People came and went with blue Mexican wineglasses and bottles of beer, but I sensed that, for whatever reason, I had the man’s attention.
“I’m going to give you some advice,” he told me, a warning edge in his voice.
I said I would appreciate that. I was curious to hear what he had to say, not because I felt in need of advice but as a clue to the mystery of the great man himself. He presented a smooth surface without chinks or toeholds, the studied amiability of someone unaccustomed to giving himself away. Advice might be the only clue I was going to get.
The great man said that his advice was going to be painful – or maybe that was just his tone – but he knew what he was talking about, and if I wanted to make a go of it as a novelist, I would do well to pay attention. The guy was nearly twice my age, but he was not old. He was young enough, for example, to wear black Chuck Taylors. He was young enough to smile ironically at himself, laying the Polonius routine on some raw hurler of metaphors our of UC Irvine.
“Don’t have children,” he said. “That’s it. Do not.” The smile faded, but its ghost lingered a moment in his blue eyes. “That is the whole of the law.”
From “Little Man”:
In a story about accompanying his son to Paris fashion week (in a bout of synchronicity – I was listening to Rush while reading this – D doesn’t care for them, and I overdose on the complex, progressive time changes and the like while I’m alone):
“It takes a profound love of clothes, and some fairly decent luck, to stumble on somebody who wants to converse about cutting-edge men’s fashion at a Rush concert, and yet a year before his trip to Paris, in the aftermath of the Canadian band’s last show at Madison Square Garden, Abe had managed to stumble on John Varvatos.”
From “Be Cool or be Cast Out”:
“In seventh grade, at Hanukkah, my son asked for, and received a peacoat. It was a classic number, navy blue, double-breasted wool, great big plastic buttons stamped – oh, the coolness! – with little anchors. We got it from an online army-navy store. It had a quilted lining, and when he wore it on a gray East Bay afternoon, with an extra-long scarf striped in muted colors wrapped around his neck, and his hair cut in a late-’65, early -’66 Small Faces shag, he looked terrific. Stylish and lanky and handsome; and warm. over Christmas break he wore it constantly, and to everything he said and did, with that scarf blowing out behind him, there was a whiff of oracular Blonde on Blonde cool. He did not so much walk around in it as lope.”
My second read was “Let me tell you what I mean” by Joan Didion, another big favourite of mine. This is a collection of twelve essays from 1968 to 2000, that showcase her unique reporting style.
From “A Trip to Xanadu”, reminding me of visiting with Mum and Dad years ago:
“It has been for almost half a century a peculiar and affecting image in the California mind. San Simeon, “La Cuesta Encantada,” the phantasmagoric barony that William Randolph Hearst made for himself on the sunburned hills above the San Luis Obispo County coast. California children used to hear about San Simeon when they were very small (I know because I was one of them), used to be told to watch for it from Highway 1, quite far in the distance, crested on the hill, the great Moorish towers and battlements shimmering in the sun or floating fantastically just above the coastal fog; San Simeon was a place which, once seen from the highway, was ever in the mind, a material fact which existed in proof of certain abstract principles.”
From “On Being Unchosen by the College of One’s Choice”:
“The Committee on Admissions asks me to inform you that it is unable to take favorable action upon your application for admission to Stanford University. While you have met the minimum requirements, we regret that because of the severity of the competition, the Committee cannot include you in the group to be admitted. The Committee joins me in extending you every good wish for the successful continuation of your education. Sincerely yours, Rixford K. Snyder, Director of Admissions.”
I wonder how Rixford feels about that decision in the years after. Here Didion gets her own back:
“The next year a friend at Stanford asked me to write him a paper on Conrad’s “Nostromo”, and I did, and he got an A on it. I got a B- on the same paper at Berkeley, and the specter of Rixford K. Snyder was exorcised.”
From “Pretty Nancy”, the essay that I enjoyed most, for its somewhat scathing and sarcastic portrait of the former First Lady:
“Pretty Nancy Reagan, the wife of the governor of California, was standing in the dining room of her rented house on Forty-fifth Street in Sacramento listening to a television newsman explain what he wanted to do. She was listening attentively. Nancy Reagan is a very attentive listener.”
And my last book is quite a bit different. “Whereabouts” by Jhumpa Lahiri was originally written in Italian and translated to English by the author. Here’s an online summary:
“Exuberance and dread, attachment and estrangement: in this novel, Jhumpa Lahiri stretches her themes to the limit. In the arc of one year, an unnamed narrator in an unnamed city, in the middle of her life’s journey, realizes that she’s lost her way. The city she calls home acts as a companion and interlocutor: traversing the streets around her house, and in parks, piazzas, museums, stores, and coffee bars, she feels less alone.
We follow her to the pool she frequents, and to the train station that leads to her mother, who is mired in her own solitude after her husband’s untimely death. Among those who appear on this woman’s path are colleagues with whom she feels ill at ease, casual acquaintances, and “him,” a shadow who both consoles and unsettles her. Until one day at the sea, both overwhelmed and replenished by the sun’s vital heat, her perspective will abruptly change.”
In a typically grumpy mood, from the chapter “In Spring”:
“In spring I suffer. The season doesn’t invigorate me. I find it depleting. The new light disorients, the fulminating nature overwhelms, and the air, dense with pollen, bothers my eyes. to calm my allergies I take a pill in the morning that makes me sleep. It knocks me out. I can’t focus, and by lunchtime I’m tired enough to go to bed. I sweat all day and at night I’m freezing. No shoe seems right for this temperamental time of year.”
From the chapter “On the Couch”:
“She was an attractive woman with dary eyes and a space between her front teeth. Behind a set of doors was he life she led with the rest of her family: the pantry full of food, dirty dishes to wash, the laundry drying on the rack. All I knew was the space dedicated to curing her patients: an individual sanatorium that hosted one anguished soul at a time.
She always started by saying the same thing: Please begin. As if each session were the first and only time we met. Every session was like the start of a novel abandoned after the first chapter.”
And finally, from “In the Pool”:
” I swim for about forty minutes, maybe fifty, before I get tired. I’m not a strong swimmer, I can’t do a flip turn, I never learned how. The idea of being on my back underwater scares me a little. I typically do the crawl, with a weak but decent stroke.
In the pool I lose myself. My thoughts merge and flow.”
I loved this article about the Preservation Hall Jazz Band from New Orleans that I came across in Relix magazine, “Preservation Hall @ 60, Culture is a Verb.”
https://relix.com/articles/detail/preservation-hall-at-60-culture-is-a-verb/
Keeping with the New Orleans theme, there’s a new Trombone Shorty album out (I’m awaiting delivery from Tipitina’s record club) and here’s the title track:
We hadn’t heard this song from an episode of “This is Us” that we watched. Turns out it’s an original composed by Mandy Moore’s husband, singer in the band Dawes:
Lastly, a great outtake from Bob Dylan’s Infidels recordings – featuring the world’s best rhythm section (Sly and Robbie) and Mark Knopfler on guitar:
Stay safe, kind and patient!
The weather was mostly very nice, and we were able to get out for some walks on Gypsy Hill. Somebody has entirely too much energy on those walks:
Easter Sunday dinner was quite the feast – lobsters from Adamo’s recent diving expedition, and our gorgonzola lamb chop lollipops – been way too long since we made those.
I dropped the VW Atlas off at Discount Tire to get the wheels balanced on Thursday, and Finn picked me up there and took me to lunch at Mexican Cactus – those tacos are so good. The tire guys called me at lunch to say they couldn’t find the wheel nut locking adapter anywhere. Nothing’s easy. I ended up having to pick up a new one at the dealership – must not have replaced it when they powder coated the wheel rims. The wheels did get balanced ultimately on Friday, and I found an interesting sub-woofer mounted on top of the spare tire when replacing the tool. I had no idea it was in there.
My first book was “Whiteout” by Ken Follett. I don’t remember reading Follett before, other than the “On Wings of Eagles” EDS Iran hostage rescue story, and really enjoyed this tale. Set in a castle in northern Scotland that has been converted into a medical research facility, the story revolves around a plot to steal a deadly virus from the lab during a blizzard.
My next book was “Mother, May I” by Joshilyn Jackson. Here’s the online summary:
I enjoyed seeing Thanksgiving Tower nearby – this is where I worked when I first started with EDS in 1989. That was back in the days when I had to wear a dark suit, white shirt, tie, and wingtip shoes to work every day. Things have changed so much in the almost 35 years since those days.
We checked into the Indigo hotel, a few hundred yards from the Majestic, and met up with Kenny and Kara. I suggested walking over to Deep Ellum, a funky neighbourhood of bars, restaurants, and shops just on the other side of Interstate 75. We walked over and enjoyed a drink on the lovely patio at the Twilite lounge, and a light dinner at Postino. I highly recommend Postino for a quick and tasty bite in the Deep Ellum area.
We walked back to the Majestic to watch Hayes Carll open the Friday night show for Lyle Lovett. He came on right on the nose of 7:30pm and gave us an excellent opening set – all quiet and thoughtful songs – none of the usual rockers that we are used to from his livestream shows. Here’s my favourite – “Beaumont”:
We arrived early to check out the 100th anniversary exhibit. The most interesting thing I read was that the owner of the theater contributed $5 million to help Walt Disney get started, when nobody else would give him any funding.
I loved my book this week – “The Storyteller” by Dave Grohl. He was the drummer with Nirvana when they changed music forever with the “Nevermind” album, and then went on to found the Foo Fighters band. This a wonderful collection of varied stories from Grohl’s youth discovering music, almost to the present day. It’s sad to hear him write about the depth of his friendship with Taylor Hawkins, the Foo Fighters drummer who passed away in the last few weeks, causing them to cancel their tour, including a New Orleans jazzfest appearance.
We made it to The Franklin on Tuesday evening for dinner – you’ll remember that we canceled last week with the inclement weather. The duck liver mousse appetizer was just excellent – satsuma marmalade on the bottom and herbs and nuts on top , with excellent bread – each bite was a treat. I followed that with the burger and Diana enjoyed some wagyu beef. Well worth the drive across town to the Bywater area. Then there was a little langiappe, as so often happens in New Orleans – the local middle school band was practicing close to where we parked.
Thom had missed our Happy Hour at Monkey Hill last week, and so we had a reprise on Wednesday evening – the majority of the krewe made it out.
My book this week was “The Magnolia Palace” by Fiona Davis. This is another of the books that Diana picked up at Octavia books in New Orleans. Here’s the Amazon plot summary:
Stela of Nakhi, “Servant in the Place of Truth”, Offering to Osiris and Anubis. New Kingdom, late 18th Dynasty (c. 1300 BCE)
The group stopped at Café Degas for a nice French snack before returning Diana and Anne to the condo. Then Denny picked us up for dinner at N7 in the Bywater area. This wonderful French restaurant is hidden away behind a fence with just a small stencil to indicate the location (as seen in this Denny does Hitchcock picture.) We had chosen to sit in the covered patio area rather than the garden or inside – great choice – the setting was beautiful. I think this was my favourite meal in New Orleans so far. The tarte flambee with caramelized onions and lardons was a wonderful appetizer, and the steak au poivre was so perfect and flavourful. Bon Appetit magazine calls this the most romantic French restaurant in the world.
Almost forgot dessert – I’m always wary of pavlova – expecting it to be nowhere near as good as the ones that Mum and Diana make. The N7 version was yummy.
Kara suggested the Booker Sessions at the Maple Leaf Bar for our Thursday evening entertainment. A nice early show at 6pm featuring John Paxson playing piano in the back bar in the style of James Booker. I was able to sit close enough to watch his fingers fly across the keyboard – a real treat. That’s a Frenchy painting of Booker atop the piano.
We enjoyed a slice of alligator cheesecake and a drink at Jacque-imo’s before the show. I love that cheesecake! And as a special langiappe, the wristbands for the Booker show were penguins.
We collected Alicia at the airport on Friday and made our way to meet the krewe for Happy Hour at Monkey Hill. Alicia had asked for as much live music as possible – and it started with Johnny Sansone playing outside Monkey Hill.
I almost forgot – Diana got a love letter when she parked the car in the neighborhood on Friday morning. She’s making friends with the locals. It was written on the back of a fax confirmation sheet – so at least one person still uses a fax machine.
The music started with the Young Fellaz Brass Band – music that always makes me smile. That was followed by Sunpie, Preservation Brass, and Sweet Crude.
Alicia seemed to enjoy all the music as well.
Diana and Alicia walked to the Chloe for Sunday brunch, and enjoyed even more live music – this time from Andrew Duhon. I think he has a really good voice – reminds me of Anderson East.
Greg and Colleen hosted a crawfish boil on Sunday afternoon. I had never peeled a crawfish before, but do love the taste. I had a lesson and gave it a shot. It was great to see a few folks I hadn’t run into in a few years – Chris Pete and Randy Bush – along with the rest of the krewe. Greg did a great job remodeling (pretty much completely rebuilding) their new house on State street.
I read another one of Diana’s books this week – “The Paris Apartment” by Lucy Foley. This was not the light, airy tour around Paris that I was expecting, rather a very dark mystery where every member of a bad family had a different and dark secret. It passed the time, but I’m not sure I’d recommend it unless you enjoy dark mysteries.
The much awaited Dads Steak Night was on Wednesday evening. We all convened on Kenny’s porch for cocktail hour – it was very sweet to see Denny and Greg chatting away on the porch swing. To minimize the number of vehicles going to Charlie’s, several of the guys decided to pile into the bed of Denny’s truck. Not something that you would get away with anywhere else. There was no way I was getting in there with all the potholes in the roads here.
Charlie’s is a very old school, neighborhood steak house. There are no menus, the waiter tells you to start with onion rings, followed by a wedge salad, and then describes the different steaks available. Mason was quite happy with his T-bone and I enjoyed my filet – large enough to have left overs for two brunch omelets.
The Moms had to have their night out as well. They tried to go for oyster Happy Hour at Pascal’s Manale but they had a sign on the door saying that they had temporarily suspended the oysters due to supply chain issues. Plan B was Superior Seafood, which had plenty of oysters and a very nice brasserie type set up. They followed that with some snacks at the lovely Chloe restaurant. Seems like they had a very nice evening.
On Thursday, we walked down to Tracey’s in the Irish Channel area to see what Saint Patrick’s day looks like in New Orleans. As expected it was quite the party, with a block party between Tracey’s and Parasols bars.
Saturday began with the usual walk/run in Audubon park. Then we enjoyed another porch concert. This one on Laurel street next to Patois restaurant – one of the first places we ate in New Orleans. The folks on Laurel have put together a whole organization that regularly hosts musicians on their porches – a way to keep things going for struggling musicians during the pandemic. It was quite a professional operation and we had a lovely afternoon. Sporty’s Brass Band (Sporty is on the trombone) kicked things off and were very good.
“Pogeutry” provided our music on Wednesday at Tipitinas. This is a band made up of the Lost Bayou Ramblers with Spider Stacy and Cait O’Riordan of the original Pogues from the 1980s. I loved this show – so much energy and a good lead in to St. Patrick’s celebrations. Here’s “Dirty Old Town.” Kenny and Kara were able to join us and both enjoyed the show very much.
Saturday brought…another parade! This time the Irish Channel St. Patrick’s parade. Not nearly as crowded as the Mardi Gras parades, but just as much fun. I wasn’t expecting cabbages, leeks, and carrots to be typical throws from the floats – you really needed to pay attention. We all had fun collecting “Kiss Me, I’m Irish” stuff for Anne’s dad, Grandpa Jack.
Sunday was a mostly lazy day and then we joined Denny and Anne for dinner at Jamila’s. This is a Tunisian restaurant with excellent lamb tagine. I had been talking to my mum about the place, and she encouraged me to get the tagine and report back about it. It was thoroughly delicious – so tender and so much flavour. The place is run by a husband and wife – he manages the front and she runs the kitchen. So welcoming and funny – we will be back for sure.
My first book this week was “The Violin Conspiracy” by Brendan Slocumb. The plot revolves around a Stradivarius violin that is stolen from a black violinist. It turns out it was given to his great great grandfather by his slave owner. The story of the violin theft is interesting, but less so than the story of Ray and his journey through racism to become runner up at the Tchaikovsky competition. I found the first 70 or 80 pages a bit superficial, but really got sucked in when the story flipped back in time to Ray initially being obsessed with playing.
Having run out of books on hand – time for a visit to Octavia books down the street – I read one of Diana’s stack. “One Italian Summer” was a very quick and easy read. Pretty girly but set in Positano with pleasant descriptions of the food and the area.
Kenny and Kara joined us and we waited for a long time – but no Indians or bands. Calling it a bust, we went back to the condo to get ready for our bike ride down to the French Quarter and the Marigny to checkout all the crazy outfits.
Debra manages Jacques-Imo’s restaurant (first meal Diana and I had together in New Orleans was there) and had secured reservations for us on Wednesday night – a last meal for Campbell and Molly. Denny, Anne and Jack joined us for an excellent meal. Debra had arranged a lovely bottle of French champagne for Diana, and loaded the table up with complementary appetizers. She is so sweet and kind. This place was quite the opposite of Commander’s Palace – very casual and loud. The southern food was amazing and the portions so generous that we were eating left overs for two days. Molly was talking about her fried chicken on the flight home.
Honey was happy to have her parents back home on Thursday, and quickly destroyed her treat from the parades. How could you be angry with that face?
In the evening, we picked up Denny and Anne and drove to Faubourg Brewing in East New Orleans. It used to be called Dixie Brewing, but has changed like so many other businesses as the Dixie statues and monuments have been removed. Sun Pie and Gal Holiday were both performing outside on the expansive lawn. Gal sat down at the table with us and rapidly consumed a bunch of crawfish before her set – she had some great peeling and eating skills.
In the afternoon we attended another porch concert. This was hosted by one of Anne’s tennis ladies who was celebrating her birthday. These started as a way for musicians to make money during early COVID and I hope they continue. Just a great way to pass a couple of hours on a Sunday afternoon.
There was an interesting moment when one of the guitar players amplifier broke down. No worries – the man of the house quickly nipped inside and emerged with a replacement. “The beauty of playing at a musician’s house”, said the singer. I did chuckle at the guys in their “Laissez Boy” recliners, fresh from the parades.
I finally finished “The Great Wide Open” by Douglas Kennedy. Almost 600 pages long and pretty dense, but a really good read.
Oysters were in heavy demand on Tuesday, and so we went down to Royal Oyster House in the French Quarter. Everyone got their fill of oysters – mine chargrilled, and then we rambled around the Quarter for the afternoon. I love this picture of Diana dancing to the gentleman on the balcony who was playing music, miming the lyrics and blowing bubbles.
I had made an appointment for a haircut and beard trim at the Barber shop down the street for Thursday lunchtime. This place was a hoot from start to finish. The constant banter between the two barbers, the glass of bourbon I was “forced” to consume, and the carnaptious dog asleep in the corner all made for quite a unique experience. McD was out for a walk and stuck her head in to check on me – she was quite entertained by the show.
We walked down to Baru tapas restaurant for Tuesday dinner. I had been there years ago on a boys’ trip and really enjoyed the food. I’m glad we went when we did as Baru has been closed for renovations for the last few weeks. The food was as good as I remembered – arepas and croquettes – right up K alley.
We woke up to this view from our balcony on Thursday – how did that happen? It took several hours to clean up and Diana saw the policeman who had obviously just written an upset lady a ticket, pause and give her a big hug. Nice to see.
The parades started in earnest on Saturday, with Choctaw, Freret and Sparta all rolling down Napoleon – 2 blocks from the condo. The crew assembled and we had lunch at the local Cuban restaurant before getting in position for the parades. Denny and Alex picked up some Mardi Gras shirts next door – very bright and sparkly. Here’s some of the parade action:
