Embracing Whimsy

Mark and I planned a trip with his parents to New England this summer.  Mark's parents had gone through a very difficult winter.  Mark's father had his second leg amputated this past winter.  He spent forty five days in the hospital for the surgery and recuperation.  Mark's mother spent many hours at the hospital and transporting his father to therapy after the surgery.  They both were in need of a vacation and some time to get away.  When we discussed the trip with them we talked about places we all wanted to see.  There were several different opinions and ideas of what to see and where to go.  One place we all agreed on wanting to see was Salem, Massachusetts.   Researching things to see in Salem we found many references to the horrific witch trials of the 1600's, the history of Nathaniel Hawthorne and his novel The House of the Seven Gables, and a statue to Elizabeth Montgomery and the television show Bewitched. 

The Bewitched Memorial was sponsored by the TVLand television network at a cost of $75,000.   Many residents of Salem were offended by the idea of honoring a fictitious witch character from television in a city infamous for putting to death innocent victims accused of witchcraft.   I can understand their feelings. 

''It's insensitive to what happened in 1692," said Jean Harrison, one of several Salem residents opposing the plan. ''She was a fictional witch, but the people who died were not witches."

Because of its history Salem holds a fascination.  I wanted to see the city, explore the streets where the horrific events happened much the same way I wanted to visit Auschwitz when I was in Poland.  Not to celebrate the events but to have a chance to experience the location where the historic events happened.   But I also wanted to see the Bewitched Memorial and celebrate something that was important to me growing up.  It was a difficult  to embrace whimsy in such a serious atmosphere.  However once I saw Elizabeth Montgomery's image as Samantha in the city square I was transported back to the 1960's.

My mother belonged to our churches ladies home group.  They had weekly meetings every Thursday evening at our church.  My father was never one to "babysit" my sister and I.  He would be at home on Thursday nights but he was not watching the children.  So my mothers sister came over to our house on Thursday nights and sat with us.  We all watched Bewitched together every Thursday.  It came on after That Girl which was another show I loved.  As a little gay boy I watched That Girl each week with the fantasy that one day I would grow up like Ann Marie, move to New York, become an actor, and meet Don Hollinger.    My father and my aunt thought I had a crush on Marlo Thomas and never realized I wanted to be Marlo Thomas.  And then Bewitched came on.  Here was a show with so many hidden meanings and secrets for me.  Samantha had to hide her true self from the world.  She was not allowed to openly admit that she had a secret.   She had a wonderful flamboyant Uncle Arthur who snarled sarcasm and swished around the house and then disappear if anyone threatened him.   How wonderful to be able disappear when you felt threatened that someone would figure out your secret.  I am sure I did not understand all of this at that age, but in hindsight its obvious to me now that there was a connection I was unaware of at the time.  Now knowing that Bewitched was one of the gayest shows ever on TV it all makes sense.  Uncle Arthur was played by Paul Lynde who was gay.  Endora was played by Agnes Moorehead who was a lesbian.   And even the second Darren, Dick Sargent,  was played by a gay man.

So please excuse me.  I understand and appreciate the terrible things that happened historically at Salem.  But I also understand it meant something to me to see a memorial to Samantha and Elizabeth Montgomery.  Allow me to embrace a memory and some whimsy from the past for a few moments. 

The Motown Sound - Visiting Detroit

I visited Detroit, Michigan over a weekend in July 2011.  Detroit seems to get a bad rap these days.  When you read an article about Detroit you see worlds like "war zone", "deserted", "empty".  I was hoping to find a more positive image when I visited.  I know how the press and the media can sensationalize things and distort reality.  Growing up in the sixites Detroit was known as the Motor City because of the car industry.  But for me, a music loving teenager in the 1960's, Detroit meant the Motown Sound, or as Barry Gordy used to call it "The Sound of Young America".  I used to love listening and dancing to The Supremes, The Four Tops, The Temptations, and Martha and the Vandella's.  When I arrived at the very efficient  and modern airport I was impressed and was hoping for the best.  One of the first things I saw in the airport was a gift shop for Motown Records.  This was what I was hoping for, not what I had read about it.  But sad to say, Martha and the Vandella's hit "Nowhere to Run" is more the theme of what I found in Detroit. 

I visited the central business area and found the beautiful General Motors Renaissance Center the waterfront.  Walking through the Renaissance Center I saw huge food courts with vendors offering food like many tourist area's in many major cities.  But there were no customers.  There was no one there except for the people working in the food court.  There was a large display of the new General Motors cars for the public to view. 

They were all fantastic to see, but once again there was no one there looking at them.  This huge skyscraper on the water front was literally empty.  I could hear Martha Reeves in my head singing  "nowhere to run, nowhere to hide." 

We decided to ride on the People Mover, Detroit's elevated train systerm for visitors.  We were able to ride it less than five minutes when we had to exit because the cars breaks were failing.  I was beginning to fear that all that I had read about Detroit might be true. 

There are many beautiful skyscrapers with some fantastic architecture still to be found in Detroit, but many of these great buildings are vacant and will most likely be gone soon.  The streets of downtown Detroit we empty at lunchtime on a Friday afternoon.  And yet all around you can see the possibilities of a great city still hoping for chance.

Leaving the downtown area its gets even sadder.  All of the photos on the Internet, in the magazines, and on TV are all true.  It does look like a war zone.  And it does not look like it's a war that Detroit is winning.  Vacant houses, homeless on the streets, weeds growing in the sidewalks, and devastation all around.  There was no Motown sound to be heard in this neighborhood unless you want to listen to Edwin Starr's anthem from the 60's "War" and The Temptations "Ball of Confusion".

The only music to be heard in Detroit these days is the din of the slot machines and the computerized music buzzing through the speakers at the lounges in the casino's that have sprung up in downtown Detroit.  This is also the only place you will find people in downtown Detroit. 

Like any good tourist I tried to ignore the reality and look for something pleasing to make me feel good about my visit.  And I did find this.  Walking along the water front, viewing the Renaissance Center, and walking through monuments in Hart Plaza I had my tourist experience.  I smiled and posed for the camera.   I read the inscriptions on the monuments.  And then we left Detroit for the suburbs, like most of the citizens of Detroit have done themselves.

I returned home to Baltimore, which like Detroit, is a city in distress.  But Baltimore has been a little more fortunate and has had some opportunity to turn itself around, and it makes me wonder if Detroit has a chance.  I have also questioned how can great cities like Baltimore and Detroit go to ruin.  Who is to blame?  Do we blame the racial divides of the 1960's.  Do we blame the failure of the car industry?  Do we blame the unions, the Democrats, the Republicans, the immigrants?   As I was gassing up my Nissan Sentra this afternoon I realized that perhaps I have to take some of the blame.  I shop at WalMart and Target for convenience and for thrift and buy all of their imported goods.  I drive a Nissan.  My underwear have a tag inside them that says made in Columbia.  I have watched the factories close around me.  And yet there I am standing on the waterfront in Detroit playing the good tourist and taking photos. 

I spent last weekend in Detroit.  This weekend I will most likely be singing some Motown song at karaoke in my local bar.   Life goes on.

Finding something magical and wonderful everyday

St Clair Family Memorial - Rosslyn Chapel a photo by litlesam on Flickr.

I am a traveler.  I have found in my later years that there is a bit of the nomad in my spirit.  I don't really want to move away and live somewhere foreign.  But I am nomadic in nature and want to see, visit, and explore as many places as possible.  I never know where my travels will lead me and sometimes I am surprised at where I end up.  Three years ago my partner Mark and I took a journey to Scotland to visit a friend of ours name Sue.  She invited us to her home in the hills of Penicuik.  We were unfamiliar with the area, but we knew it was near Edinburgh which fascinated us.  Sue picked us up at the airport and took us to her home.  It was a beautiful estate with gardens, hills, wild animals, and two poodles.  We visited in January, which is not the best time to visit Scotland.  Scotland is cold and rainy most of the year, but January can be the worst.  We brought warm coats, and warm night wear for our visit.  Our first day at Sue's home she took us on a tour of the ground and we noticed a church off in the distance.  It was covered in scaffolding and under repair.  We asked her about the church and she told us it was "the" Rosslyn chapel of the Da Vinci Code fame.  What?  This was the church of The Holy Grail from the novel?  She told us yes it was that same church.  We were shocked.  We had no idea this church was near her home.  What a wonderful surprise.  It was walking distance from her home.  I love unplanned surprises like this.  We should have researched a little more and been prepared for this, but finding it by surprise was much more fun.

Being a Christian and raised in a conservative Christian Church seeing the church made famous by the Da Vinci Code was perplexing to say the least.  Being a traveler and exploring cultures and history this was a true find.  How does one separate the two.  Do I look at this chapel with its history and legends as just that, legends?  Or do I go explore the chapel hoping for some mind bogging experience.  I am a skeptic.  I have many beliefs that have been in my mind since childhood.  But this was no accident.  I was here completely unaware for a reason.  Is this the actual location where the descendants of Jesus survived.  Are the St. Clairs who still claim ownership of the property the true descendants of Mary Magdalene and Jesus?  There are so many questions without any answers.  But I did see the chapel.  And I saw the memorial and grave of The St. Clair family at Rosslyn.  It was an experience that I will never forget. 

I have been to many other places that have spiritual significance to many religions.  I have been to Fatima where the the legend of the Holy Mothers appearance is significant.  I have been to Machu Picchu where the Inca created a spiritual hiding place.  I have visited the locations of where my ancestors left Europe and immigrated to the United States.  All of these places have their importance and their mark on my history and my beliefs. 

But my friend Sue lives in a beautiful home in the hills of Penicuik where she sees the Rosslyn Chapel from her window everyday.  Its common place for her.  Does that make it any less special, or magical, or spiritual?  I don't know.  I worked in Washington DC for ten years.  I walked past the Capitol Building everyday on my way to work.  It became just another building I saw daily.  But to tourist on the visitors bus its magical and wonderful to see see the Capitol for the first time.  I look at my life each day and try to find something special.    I want to experience a Rosslyn Chapel everyday.  Some days its difficult to find that special moment.  But if I take time, reflect on my blessings, and forget about my problems, there is a Rosslyn Chapel in my horizon everyday.  Its my job to find it.

A long journey from 8th grade English

Larry and Mark at Tintern Abbey a photo by litlesam on Flickr.

 When Mark, Katie, and I started to plan this trip to Ireland and to Wales we all talked about places we each wanted to see. I knew my must see location would be Tintern Abbey. I studied Wordsworth in high school, and unlike most school kids, was fascinated with his poetry. I had read his poem “Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey, on Revisiting the Banks of the Wye during a Tour. July 13, 1798.” many times and have always wanted to see the location that inspiried this piece of work. Wordsworth talks in the poem of how he carried the vision with him and when he is in a busy city, or in a hectic crowd, the memory brings him back to a day of peace. I wanted to see this place that caused him to write: "In which the heavy and the weary weight. Of all this unintelligble world, is lightened..."

Today Tintern Abbey is somewhat restored. You can walk amoung the ruins. You can walk by the shore of the River Wye. And yes, even being there with friends and other visitors, I was able to understand why this place was important to Wordsworth. Its been a long journey from 8th grade English class in 1964 to Tintern Abbey 2011. But it was worth the journey.

Familarity

Interesting carving on a building in Atlanta (3) a photo by litlesam on Flickr.

I love the city of Atlanta.  I lived in Atlanta in the mid 1970's.  I was in my early twenties and had lived all of my life to that point in a small rural town of less than 10,000.  Suddenly finding myself in a big city like Atlanta was pure culture shock.  I had to learn to live in the big city much like the kid who is thrown into the lake and has to learn to swim.  It was exciting, thrilling and yet terrifying all at the same time.   I have returned to Atlanta many times since that period in the 1970's.   Like me, Atlanta has grown and changed over the years.  When I walk down the streets  that  I was so familiar with in the 1970's today, it is at times difficult recognize where I am.  Huge skyscrapers now reach up to the sky where small shops and theaters once stood.  I saw this carving on an old building on Peachtree Street near Five Points.  The carving was one that I have walked past many times and has always caught my attention. The eyes and the expression always stop me when I walk past this building.   There was a small movie theatre next to this building in 1974.  I went to see a really bad movie at this theatre.  The movies title was Bug.  It was one of the later movies in the career of William Castle.  William Castle was the king of gimmicks and promotion for his movies.  His movies were never great, but this one was really bad.  The story was about mutant cock roaches released on the earth by a massive earthquake.  The theatre is long gone.  The entire area around the building has changed.  But this carving which I have always loved still exits.  And so does the memory of a really bad film.   Familiarity exists even when everything has changed.  And at times it brings back to mind a really bad movie. 

April 1977 Mom turns 50. Its a Mohole Party

April 1977 Mom turns 50. Its a Mohole Party a photo by litlesam on Flickr.

Happy Birthday Mom. "They" say time heals all wounds, but "they" are wrong. I don't think you ever get over losing your mother. Its natural and you expect to outlive your parents. But I don't think you ever stop missing them.

We celebrated my Mom's 50th birthday in a bizarre way.  We made a strange cake for her.  We bought those little sugar letters for decorations.  Instead of spelling out words like Happy Birthday we just put the entire card of letters on top of the cake in alphabetical order.  We made dinner for Mom also.  We made tacos for her.  She never had tasted taco's before.  It was 1977 and taco's had not yet become a mainstream family dinner.  She was not sure about them.  I remember we showed her how to put the seasoned hamburger into the crispy taco shell.  She loved them at first bite.  At 50 she had found something new that she liked. 

We made paper hats for everyone one to wear.  They had no design or description.  We called it a Mohole party.  I can't explain why, but at the time it seemed like a fun thing to do.  We laughed the entire evening.  Weird cakes, taco's and strange hats.  There was no alcohol at the party but you would have thought we were all under the influence.  It was one of the most fun parties I have ever attended.

We lost Mom way too early.  She died at the age of 70 just twenty years from the time this photo was taken.  I am now 58 and realizing just how young Mom was in this photo. That young man in the photo is me.  I was 25.  It was another lifetime.  I was married.  I would have two children just a few years later.  Looking back I hardly recognize  that person in the photo.  But there is no question who Mom was.  She was the grand matriarch.  She ruled the family with a strong but loving arm.

I wish Mom was still here today. I wish she could know the man I am today.  I wish she could have watched my girls grow into beautiful and strong young women.  I wish she could have met my husband Mark.  I know he would have loved to laugh and to sing with her in harmony.  I wish she could have met Danielle's partner Andrea.  And I wish she could be here to hold Katie and give her big hugs right now, that she needs so much.

I miss you Mom.  But I know you are watching over us and talking to Jesus about us in your heavenly home.  We will all be together again some day in the future.  And the love just keeps on growing.

The Class of 1970 had its dreams

Group photo - Class of 1970 40 year reunion a photo by litlesam on Flickr.

My high school class had its 40th reunion last year. I have heard many people talk about high school reunions over the years. Some say they would never go back to a reunion. Others go and have a wonderful time. I have enjoyed my high school reunions very much. This past year my high school class seems to have reconnected on many levels. Many of us have become contacts on Facebook. We have been able to share good times, felt bad for each other in sad times. We have sent prayers to each other when our families have been sick or have had problems. It has been a wonderful experience. Our reunion last October seemed to culminate all of this into a big party where we were able to celebrate who we are now, who we were then, and to be around to see who we become in the future.

We are all now approaching sixty much faster than we want to admit. We all realized that waiting five or ten years to have another reunion is just too long. So we have had a couple of mini reunions since  that have proved to be even more fun and more meaningful than the big party last October.

A group of us got together this evening at our classmates Laura's home for a pot luck dinner, some beer and wine and lots of conversation. We talked about husband and wives, ex's, children, grandchildren, teachers, parents who are getting older and frail, the events of 9/11, retirement, and jobs. Its been wonderful to reconnect and look at the roads we all have taken and been amazed at how those roads have kind of brought us back together.

The class of 70 had its dreams. Today we have our realities. But there is a bond of love and friendship now that many of us had thought we left behind back when we moved that tassel on our graduation caps so many years ago. I am so thankful for these friends today. We are comfort for each other now when many of us need it the most

I love you guys.