Arrow of time

Gare d'Orsay Station Clock (2004)

Musee d'Orsay

The coming of the New Year triggers something in every one of us; for me it is the remembrance of things past. The year 2008 has been, like most years, very fruitful and rewarding for me. It exceeded all expectations.

Time flies. The days swiftly passed by and the year quickly slipped by. This time, I know where time went. I've really enjoyed being engaged in all my projects this year. My travel plans were put aside but I don't have any regrets.

Next year there will be bigger challenges but even greater opportunities to be involved and make a difference. I look forward to that.

I have no resolutions for 2009. I'm done and over with that. As hard as I try, I can never keep such promises to myself. I'll keep the few pounds that I've gained and continue to enjoy chocolate and tubs of ice cream and maybe exercise a bit. No pressures just pleasures.

We'll be a year older and while we're at it let the arrow of time pass us by gracefully.

Hannah and Her Brother

Kai and Olivia came to visit and delivered their gift to Lola last Sunday. And of course picked up their own gifts too. Because of their Lola's (my good friend Pilar, their Grandma) last minute change in plans on Christmas day they missed our party. A long story.

Imagine if Matthew and Kai were both around that day? Between Matthew's counting out, not just audibly, but LOUD and backwards from 1,000, and Kai's running around (he doesn't know how to walk), it would have been total chaos and it would've driven me nuts.

Pilar's little kitchen elves helped her knead the dough for the empanadas. I didn't get to taste any of it but I'm sure they did a good job. And what possessed the master doughboy to have his head shaved in the middle of winter I don't know. He does look good without his hair though, doesn't he?

Olivia recently celebrated her 7th birthday with a bowling party. Imagine her in her frilly dress and cowboy boots, throwing that ball. Huh? What's wrong with bowling in jeans? Go figure.

Teacher's comment: Kai should learn how to temper his eagerness to broadcast to the class the answer to the teacher's questions. And we think Olivia should be given tests much longer than any of her peers. My guess is that little Hannah Montana here gets bored when she finishes her test ahead of the class and turns to chatting with and distracting her seatmate as a result. Sounds familar, Pilar? You did keep me awake with all your stories while we're at the dormitory.

They're both adorable but the questions they ask! Oh kids. I've lost that faculty for questioning many years ago. Thanks for the visit guys.

Test of certainty

The film Doubt brings us closer to the Roman Catholic church's most sensitive issue, that of inappropriate behavior among some of its clergies. Who could have performed any better than the high caliber actress Meryl Streep and Philip Seymour Hoffman of the famed Capote?

The reviews are mixed and often is a comparison with the play version, Doubt is a cerebral execution of another brilliant drama but with a subtle treatment of its story plot. It is a thought-provoking simple story, simply told with such powerful dialogue between the lead characters.

Let's not leave out Viola Davis (Mrs. Miller) and her few minutes on the screen pleading her son's case, making her an excellent contender for the Oscars as supporting actress. She was absolutely great. I wish they had engaged in their dialogue much longer than it was shown. I wanted to see more of Viola Davis' dramatic rendition. It was moving.

All she held on to and fought for was her faith and moral certainty, the authoritarian Sister Aloysius. Father Flynn's moralizing homilies left us weighing the balance between doubt and certainty. Philip Seymour Hoffman was perfect for the role.

I was left with a lot of questions. Doubts, maybe. I'll spare the details for a postmortem with my friends who intend to see this movie and maybe they'll have some answers.

Definitely an Oscar candidate. A must-see.

The race for the Oscars

To the faint-hearted - please don't walk out after watching the first few minutes of this movie. There are no surprises and you'll leave the theatre feeling good and proud of the boys.

Grow up! An expression we often hear adults say to each other. In every society we see little children skip their most needed playtime and jump into adulthood in order to survive. This is that kind of story.

This is the journey of life for the two brothers Jamal and Salim, a heartwarming experience in their quest for survival. It's not just a lesson on breaking the cycle of poverty and oppression, it's the story of love and hope. These boys were not born bad, they were forced to grow up before their time. It's life as seen Dickensian style (Oliver Twist).

Gather all the children of the world. You'll find a lot of good in them. The Third World society is no different from any other. If Jamal rose up against all odds so can the rest of the children.

I struck a conversation with an old lady who was in line to see another movie (The Reader) and she told me she's watched Slumdog Millionaire three times and I can see why. It is a powerful movie worthy of many Oscars; it will leave you with a warm, happy feeling. I bet you this one will score a big audience.

Dev Patel delivered the most brilliant and intense acting I've ever seen. He deserves an Oscar as well. The city of Mumbai setting and the cinematography can not be more perfect. Go see it.

The Black Swan

The day after Christmas Day used to be a big rush to the stores at the crack of dawn to get to those after holiday marked down merchandise. With me it's mostly ornaments and Christmas cards. This is a thing of the past. I have no desire to shop anymore and I haven't had for the longest time.

This year, the day after was a trip to the bookstore, one thing I always enjoy. Grabbing a chair, I'm lucky if I get one, and picking up a book to read is one of my best pastimes. Sometimes with a cup of Starbuck's frap on the side. It would be a treat if I could just take those books home and find enough time to read most of them. I hardly buy books for my collection anymore. I just borrow from the public library instead since I no longer have room in my home library.

Three boxes of Christmas cards were all I had in my basket as I roamed the aisles at Barnes and Nobles up and down. Then I spotted one book I've always wanted to read but which is still not available in the local library. The Black Swan by Nassim Nicholas Taleb. I started reading the prologue while in the bookstore and I just couldn't put it down.

I was first fascinated by the whole concept of probabilities, outliers and uncertainty when I watched the interview given by Taleb and Mandelbrot on PBS recently. Standard deviations, the Gaussian distribution, bias and precision were lessons I've learned but only meaningful to me in terms of my profession and not as they apply to real-life problems. Taleb does exactly just what some of us would like to see - the application of this science of uncertainty to our daily world situations. He disproves the premise that some of us live by, that what we do not know can not really hurt us. Imagine the unexpected. It takes only one sighting to invalidate the belief that all swans are white. One outlier can make an impact and then he takes us through all the disciplines and occurrences in daily life to prove this.

The parallels and evidences he offered are just amazing but clearly defined. From the 9/11 event, to the logic and mathematics of everything including gambling casinos, the fate of a less known opera singer Giaccomo, our choice of our profession or the meaning of scalability. He discusses the element of serendipity in inventions and discoveries.

It is a book written not just for economists or those who have a mindset the same as the author. It is thought-provoking and simply challenging. The arguments he makes are clear and makes sense to me. It's one book that I can't see reading in two, three or even ten sittings.

Taleb is a well-rounded scholar, not just an economist but a literary genius of the highest rank. I really enjoy reading this book, it's a challenge for the stagnant mind and exercise for the hungry brain. That suits me fine.

This is a gem of a book.

Christmas with Lola Inang

Here's the herd. It took years of discipline and a few minutes of practice to make the group look like they are well-behaved, respectable family members. And this isn't everybody, we're missing quite a few.

The older cousins' reverse psychology trick on Matthew didn't work - he frowned like this is a frowning marathon and of course he got his way, he won all the attention. Kaitlyn couldn't be happier with her hand-crocheted mini-doll she named Corelyn. Are you sure it's not Carolyn? And I took her big NO as "Hey Auntie, I belong to the ZZ generation and there is no such name as Carolyn in the database anymore!". Extinct?

They sure made us feel like dinosaurs with their handheld DS and PS and their talk about Wii. Five-year old Matthew can beat the heck out of anybody in the room playing these games, and the rest of us of course couldn't even deal with our arthritic hands' lack of coordination with what's left of our shrinking brains.

We managed to survive yet another fun-filled Christmas Day at Auntie's and Lola's. We were packed like sardines in the apartment, but if you're anything like us, we love closeness and coziness; as in 6 or 7 big adult kids piled up on Auntie's bed, while the rest of the family eat and talk all day thru the night non-stop, somewhere where they could find room. How do we all look? I think Lola Inang is the best looking and could you guess who did much of the cooking? She did. Auntie let her loose in kitchen. Her signature Christmas dinner soup is to die for! But she wouldn't give out the recipe, she's not ready to exit yet.

We missed the rest of the family. The phone kept Inang busy with all the calls she got from the kids overseas. We miss you guys.

Nelsie's meatloaf was as usual a hit, Tita Amor's palabok noodles was just as good, but the hungry bears were looking for her specialty pichi-pichi. Chong's salmon dish and her cheesecake a must-have with our parties. Inang's pinakbet a winner all the time. Not to mention all the baking Charmaine did. And we ate, and we talked, picked on Matthew and discussed Tito Joe's issue with his health insurance but stubborn as he is, he wouldn't believe Tito Ped who's got the expertise on the subject. Patience with Joe is a virtue, Ped.

What would be a day with the boys and girls without the usual advice session (unsolicited, of course) from Auntie. For their own good, I kind of reminded them of their responsibilities to themselves, pushing them to finish school and study some more whenever they get the opportunty, just like the way it was drilled in my head by my parents. It is all making sense now. You'll thank me for this kids. Even Rob and Michelle got lectured; poor boyfriend and girlfriend. And here's a picture of them looking all "drilled out" after Auntie was finished with them.

Too bad Marc had to fly back to Chicago at 4:00 pm to return to work today. Goodbye it is for now. Give our love to Amber, we missed her too.

As we posed for the family picture before everyone got their loot and left, Auntie announced that we all should smile, for this may be Lola's last photo shoot with us. The smart alecks in the background protested and countered that with "No, this may be your last picture with us Auntie". And we all roared in laughter. I better not get sick again. It's true Lola looks so good she might outlive me and that becomes a worry for the boys for they will be left to care for her. Payback time kiddos!

It was wonderful and we all look forward to another family gathering.
Our family stories could fill the pages of a book. That's an idea!

Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas to my family and all my friends.

You are all close to our hearts.

The Christmas Pageant

This is what's left of tonight's Christmas pageant at Our Lady Queen of Martyrs. An altar with a makeshift stable and a chair where Mary sat while she cradled the Infant Jesus.

As you might guess, 20 or so little kids took part and pride in the re-enactment of the birth of Christ. Each year one wonders what will be different or strange about this new production. And it doesn't necessarily get better.

The children's choir was reduced from what used to be (not exactly the Vienna) Boys and Girls Choir to just five girls singing a little off-key. They must have chosen the smallest kids they have in the school because the Three Kings looked like midgets to me. But of course they all wore what we can accept as the proper costumes for the pageant. However, old patriarch Abraham's garb was a little too short, it showed his pair of white-as-a nurse's- shoe- white sneakers.

What d'ya know, the rest of the biblical men, including the Magi, wore their best looking Nikes too. Overheard on the way out of the church, was a lady parishioner mumbling something about "those shoes were inappropriate". I had to laugh.

Not much can be said about the four sweet angels wearing angel outfits, one attire was even sleeveless, and whoever sewed these costumes must not have any clue what angel wings should look like. Poor little girls, their mothers must have practiced their sewing skills for these girls' first try on what could be future stardom on Broadway. They did their best, the kids and the moms. I give them an "A" for a-trying.

The youngest-looking angel who knelt before the Holy Family, must have been allergic to the poinsettias she kept sneezing while this show was going on. There was no Kleenex anywhere in site.

Traditionally, a real live baby plays the part of the Infant Jesus but this time the ceramic figure that's part of the creche was used. Msgr. Funaro commented about this and of course Father Passenant has to have his humorous take on I guess the shortage of babies in the parish and blurted out to the congregation, "Get busy then". Not in the presence of 100 kids, Father!

Had I known, I could've imported one adorable baby (Tom) Jesus from Heidelberg. I'm sure his brothers, saintly Peter and kingly David, wouldn't mind tagging along for the few hours flight.

As you might guess again, I brought my camera for this event, but I didn't have the guts to take even one picture of the entire cast. After the pageant, the pastor allowed a photo shoot by the parents of these wonderful kids and of course, I thought there were only about 20 kids participating. It turned out they brought a whole slew of friends and relatives, who all ended up in front of the altar blocking my view at every angle. Well, I gave them the honors, it's their act and their show.

The parents were so proud of them. I am too. I was a kid once and I remember what it's like to be chosen for a part in a play. It is a big deal! God bless those precious children. And their parents too.

The Boy in the Striped Pajamas

Best friends for life - that's what the two boys Bruno and Shmuel were determined to be.

This film is about the sorrowful events in history seen through the eyes of a child. The Holocaust as told from the perspective of an 8-year old boy and without the vivid display of the horrors of the time.

Innocent, unafraid, quite trusting that not all Jews are "bad", not everyone in this world is "evil" as he was told; what could be more simple than that coming from a child. Through the innocent eyes of Bruno, all he saw was the friendship he could forge with Shmuel who was on the other side of the fence which he calls "the farm". The forbidden friendship between these two boys became so strong, they held hands together and nothing can persuade them to let go. Till the end.

The story behind the film is horrific but the film is quite fascinating. The Boy in the Striped Pajamas portrayed none of the scenes we can't get out of our minds after watching Life is Beautiful or Schindler's List. One lesson I learned from this movie is the strength of ties that bind, the unbreakable spirit of trust and willingness to understand. The innocence of Shmuel allowing Bruno to "help you look for your Papa". It is a bittersweet expression of what makes a child a child, innocent and unaware of what is going on around them. Sad ignorance.

Kudos to the kid actors, what a fine performance and superb acting. Till the end. The final ten minutes or so of the reel is harrowing and almost impossible to watch. It was felt, it wasn't seen.

The film falls short of credibility as the lead actors speak in British English without even feigning German accent. The lack of tight security around the camp border made of barbed wire fence was hard to imagine as real, but which allowed the boys to share their best moments together. And yet, this did not take anything away from the film.

It was yet another sad story told but this time free of the gory details. I thought is was kid-friendly. Watch this movie and learn from a child. Bruno and Shmuel saw the world as a simple place where everyone could develop unconditional friendship. Till the end.

Snowbound - Spellbound

Please pass the popcorn. Snowbound, I wasn't going to let this miserable weather get to me. An avid Hitchcock fan, guess what I got myself for Christmas. Another 8-movie premiere collection from Hitchcock's best.

So here it is. This is the first time I watched Spellbound. I was inspired after seeing the Dali exhibition last summer. The movie has gained its popularity with the help of the famous dream sequence illustrated by Salvador Dali. That is not to say that this thriller-mystery, one of Sir Alfred's best, did not have a character of its own. The versatile acting of both Ingrid Bergman and the handsome Gregory Peck is just something one will not forget soon. Excellent.

The theme is psychoanalysis Freudian style. People often feel guilty about something they never did and it usually goes back to their childhood. The child often wishes that something terrible would happen to someone and if it happens the child believes he caused it.

First-rate films of this sort one does not see anymore. I was spellbound.

Symmetry in life

Snowflakes - a manifestation of art and symmetry in nature.
According to physicists, one thing you won’t find are snowflakes that are alike. It is very much like us humans who are as unique as our own thumbprints.

The scene was brunch yesterday at Jonathan’s, a favorite with Ruth and some of my very best lady friends, Maria, Judy and Celine. In celebration of her own holiday, Hanukkah, Ruth gave each one of us a Christmas ornament for this year – a big silver snowflake.

Nothing flaky about these friends of mine, they are genuine and very open about almost everything. Celine made no bones about her disapproval of Caroline Kennedy’s political aspirations. Judy and the rest of us argued our cases, Ruth stayed out of it and then we went on with our business of filling our bellies with Jonathan’s best.

Having seen the worst situations one could ever imagine as a Social Worker, Celine shows strength of character one could wish for themselves. It was a lifelong training ground. It defined her as a person. I’ve seen how she struggled to conquer that grief when John, her husband, passed away almost two years ago. But now, what do I say to her? I can’t find the right words; I can only imagine what she must be feeling right this moment.

I gave her a big hug yesterday, and whispered in her ear “I do not have too many words to say to you these days, Celine. They are all here in my heart. I swear, if I could only take some of that fear away from you”. And she said, “I know, Cecilia. And thank you”. There were no tears.

She was recently diagnosed with breast cancer. Soon she’ll be going for chemotherapy and 36 rounds of radiation. We’ll be there to provide support to her as she goes thru the roughest times and all the stresses. I know she’ll be strong, I know she doesn’t want us to feel sorry for her. The only worries she has are that, on her worst days of chemo sessions, she won’t be able to take her granddaughter Michelle to school, and that for a long while she won’t be able to play golf with Judy and Maria.

One single snowflake that falls on the ground will only melt and just disappear into nothingness. If a handful of them cling to one another on the way down as they fall, they’ll create a bond strong enough to stick to the ground and form that white shimmering blanket that could last for a long time. We will have to find some common ground. Unique in our own way, like each single flake taking on its very own shape, we will all touch that same ground.

We will be there for you, Celine.

The Big Top

We are the Big Apple Circus.

A choppy summary of the party at Ped and Carol’s last night.

Menu: Sushi, Sashimi, Ceviche, Kare-kare (ox-tail stew), filet mignon, haricot verts, Russian tea cakes, Pinot Grigio, roasted brown rice tea, more tea and beer for the guys..

Lola (Inang), our zookeeper and circus trainer gave her boys the tight hug welcome. And of course, the girls too, not all of them accounted for.. wait till Christmas day

Marc flew in from Chicago for this feeding frenzy, and a whiff of fresh New Jersey air. He got a promotion at Northern Trust without “combat pay”. Should we Trust this Company? Got any “bleeping” Senate seat for sale? That might even be a more lucrative deal, son.

Bem’s reason for being late for the party - they got stuck in traffic at the GWB after picking up Marc at LGA. Which GW bridge are we talking about? We don’t buy that anymore, honey. A credible excuse? Try getting lost in SoHo. He let us in on a small secret – contrary to our belief, an ambulance can take you to any hospital of your choice. The EMTs do not dictate where they can drag you but why are we even on this subject?

Michelle wants to move to Japan after their shopping trip there last summer. Hello, can you even afford to live there? Her solution to the crappy economy - gas is cheap in Jersey, so drive all the way to NJ from NY to get gas for $1.56 a gallon. NYC price is $1.99. Do the math.

Ped outdid himself with all the fancy dishes – sushi bar, filet mignon, the specialty salad which ended up in Auntie’s care. The anchovies, what happened there, Auntie? Don’t drape them over the Romaine, that goes with the dressing. Sous chef messed up big time!

Disaster Carol…has got the drop-sies, everything ends on the floor. She shared with Auntie her whole excitement – being a perpetual student. You go, girl! With your best foot forward! Carol’s socks were one of Auntie-razzi’s objects of focus. Carol got stuck doing the dishes as usual.

George had too much of the wasabe, he paced the kitchen while Auntie watched him turn red. Lola gave George a big lecture on quitting smoking and drinking. Back-off, Grandma. Didn't you smoke and drink beer too, in your younger days?

Mel, after a couple of bottles of Stella Artois poured out his silly jokes. He gave us a lesson on the politics behind the financing of City hospitals. Thanks but hohum. Zzzzzz.

Barbara had the Mexican ceviche…a cocktail of squid, baby mussels etc. If you can feast on gifelte fish and matzo ball soup, this is no big deal, Barb. We won't tell the Rabbi. Mazeltov.

Chong was the biggest fan of Ped’s sushi, filet mignon and Mel's ox-tail stew. Dear Tita Lumen who is so gullible was again the object of the boys’ jokes.

Herlina, unmistakably a Sardon, joined our Cirque du Zoo leil as a new member. She wonders why her paycheck is smaller than she expected. Duh - this is NYC, you pay city taxes too, my dear. Highway robbery we call it.

We found out Casey (Herlina's husband) is Japanese but spoke several languages, including German and Cambodian. That was put to the test. Ped, even without taking a sip of alcohol poured even sillier German jokes What is the German word for soda? SPRITE! And for ketchup? HUNTS! (with the proper harsh inflection, of course). A big boooo!!!! Corny, but it got us all in stitches. Casey mastered the art of peeling the golden delicious prawns. Wow, a plateful! When did you have your last meal? His impression of the family? (we hope), wildly entertaining. excellent cooks with hungry bear appetites, but terrible with jokes.

Auntie’s haricot verts with slivered almonds dish was re-named “haricose veins”. Auntie needs TLC from the boys – looks like Lola, now 101, will outlive her.

The boys reminisced on their “homegrown” stories from yesteryears.
The boys kidded Lola about their inheritance; they now plan to move closer to Lola’s place. The “suckies” at work, except for Ped.

Well done, kids. This is what we’re all about - loads of fun.
We miss the rest of the family. See you Christmas day at Lola’s.

Got white stuff?

Doorstep fresh, delivered by Mother Nature.

It's a big deal for us here. We don't get too many of these snow storms, thank goodness. The upside is I don't have to drive in it - any longer! It's a blessing to be happily retired!

Eat your heart out, this is just so pretty to look at. But not after the puppies have done their business on this white blanket.

We're bracing for another one tomorrow.

A jaundiced view

Hold that thought! That's not me behind the Yellow Knight of Oz(?) getup.

Only the curious visitors seem to mind this fellow, who quickly turned around with that "Who gave you permission?"- look as soon as I aimed the camera at him.

Business must be terribly slow in the miming industry; here he's caught just hanging out with this other guy who couldn't sell me a ticket to the double-decker Hop-on Hop-off tour bus. With a camera hanging down my neck, who would think I'm not with the group from Beijing?

I'm always mistaken for a native whenever I shop in Chinatown - it never fails, the grocers always do a "rapid fire" Mandarin, Cantonese or Fukienese with me, a language or dialect I don't understand and will never speak in my lifetime. No offense meant Rose, I love you as a friend, but memorizing over 50,000 characters, depending on which dictionary is used, is not my mission on Earth. Besides, I wouldn't call it exactly a romantic language (in the true sense of the word), so there goes my desire to learn it. Rose is half Filipino half Chinese, doesn't drink tea at all and not an inch gifted with Chinese features. One big attribute - she sure comes in handy when it comes to ordering the real authentic Chinese dishes in restaurants. We admit, we are "friendly users".

You can dress anyway you want to or not even dress at all and the locals won't pay any attention to you in New York. See that girl to the left (or right) of the mime? She definitely is a tourist, and checking him out from head to toe. Unless he's bungee jumping from atop the Empire State building, Pale Male and Lola could draw a bigger crowd than this pale yellow fellow.

I got the cue when the bigger guy stared and gave me the back-off signal. I quickly disappeared into nearby Central Park. Whew! For one lousy picture (well, I actually stole some 5 or 6 shots), I could get killed. Peace and quiet, except for occasional dog walkers and strollers I was happy to regain my freedom to shoot. Flip flops in the height of winter? They didn't name NY as the other fashion capital of the world for nothing. New Yorkers just have to break the norm, don't they?

Isn't this magnificent? And graceful. This is the Gapstow Bridge, one of several stone bridges in Central Park. It overlooks The Plaza Hotel and on a clear day the skyscrapers are reflected on the Pond. What a vision by Olmsted. 125 years ago when Central Park was created there was nothing here but empty lots. Today, beautiful buildings and lush trees rise above the man-made hilly landscape. Simply awesome.

Oh yeah, my trip to the eye doctor earlier - uneventful. It didn't even happen. Ten minutes before my appointed time, I showed up only to be told to reschedule my visit. Without a referral form from my primary care doctor, I would have to pay out-of-pocket. Sorry but that ain't happening, man. A measly request for referral will probably be charged by the other doctor as a visit. I tell you, we're in the wrong business. This American health care system is enough to make one sick, one can't help but take a jaundiced view of it.

Hopefully my eyeballs will still be good for another week until I get that "bleeping" referral. I'm in no hurry, the snow is coming down pretty hard as I hammer away on the keyboard and I'd rather be taking pictures of this white stuff than wasting time in the doctor's office. Who knows what characters may be lurching in the waiting room....

Sentimental journey

Two nights ago, I bought my tree from the Christmas tree sales at St. Nicholas of Tolentine Church. Much as I want to forego the fresh tree tradition this year, I just couldn’t. My excuse- this counts as my holiday donation to the church and since I’ve been told not to worry about killing the trees because these are actually farmed for this purpose, I shouldn’t feel guilty of anything. Or should I?

The second tree that was shown to me was my best pick; a 7-foot douglas fir that was leaning against the wire fence calling out to me. I hauled it home and let it stand and rest and gave it its drink of tepid water and sugar. This one wasn’t so thirsty, I checked on it before I went to bed that night and the water is not even half-finished. I couldn’t figure out if it was the sweet water that it doesn’t like or that I had the base cut slightly at an angle this time so as to have more surface area for the water to seep through. I haven’t done this before, what genius made me do it now, don’t ask. I figured if that’s how I keep cut flowers fresh in a vase, then it must be also good for a tree.

This morning the tree looks relaxed, its branches all spread out nicely from the trunk and ready for dressing up. But I was dragging my feet, I’m not quite ready. You see there are tree lights and ornaments to be carted from the garage, more ornaments to be brought down from hiding in the closets and so forth. I need some Red Bull or a Power Bar to get me in shape for this. Does anybody remember Geritol? I still think the antibiotics zapped all the energy out of me, what else? Poor tree has been eagerly waiting for its trimmings and I promise I’ll get around to it tonight.

And so I started opening boxes, and found some of my favorite things to adorn the tree with. It must be a woman thing – I go thru this ritual every Christmas, re-live the story behind each ornament. The yellow cardinal perched on its nest with two eggs was a gift from Mary Skelley. Legend has it that if you find a nest on a Christmas tree, it will bring you good luck. Mary was in my class at SJU. I recruited her as my intern ended up working for me for a year or so. I lost contact with Mary, but she sure comes to mind during the holidays. We spent some nice summers at her parents' home in Bayport. Lovely Irish folks.

One other favorite is the little cabin handcrafted out of the bark of a birch tree and was given to me by Marilyn Kahn. She’s Jewish but she loves the Christmas season. She told me she used to have a small "Chanukah bush" by her bed when she was a kid. This break from her tradition did turn in my favor because she gave me a tree ornament each year. She was a stuck-up young graduate from the U of Michigan but quite sharp when I hired her. I wonder what she’s up to now, the li’l JAP. Did she end up marrying Kamin, who knows?

There’s the wreath my sister gave me during one of my trips back home. It's made out of pine cones gathered from the mountainside in Baguio where she lives. That’ll always hang by the door. Many more of these ornaments are filled with stories which will stay as reminders of people close to my heart. I go thru them every year misty-eyed sometimes and today is no different.

Boxes full of memories, some will remain kept in the closet but will not be thrown away. And will never be forgotten.

Christmas in New York

Except for the sad fact that our lame duck President does a better job of dodging flying shoes (which has attracted bids from around the Arab world, already up to $10 million), than leading the country, there’s not much to read about in the headlines these days. Given that the economy is on the dive, let’s look for something to cheer us up, one that’s more civilized than the dehumanizing SNL strip which poked fun at our Governor Paterson who is blind. That was in poor taste, sick, cruel and indecent. And mean!@#$**

New York City is the place to be during the Christmas season. I’ve made it a tradition to hear mass at St Patrick’s Cathedral and make my rounds of the City with its festive decorations a week or two before Christmas Day. The aroma of Starbuck’s morning brew that filled the Rockefeller Concourse sure perked me up as I got off the train. It seemed pretty quiet as I walked the tunnel to get to the street level, it was almost eerie. There was no pushing and shoving. Three groups of about 30 little kindergarten kids lined 5th Ave. were led by their teachers as they get ready to cross over to Saks Fifth to watch the window displays. They were well-behaved. Something’s wrong here. The streets were navigable, a first for Manhattan; and the shops were empty, an almost impossible scene for New York City.

The Channel Gardens with its traditional horn-blowing Angels, which used to be the hangout for the wide-eyed, neck-craning tourists didn’t look the same. A section was barricaded and is now reserved as the Photo Location, where for a hefty fee I suppose one can get their photos taken. You’ve got to be kidding! What’s next? They’ll charge you for breathing within the Rockefeller Center area just because they have the “air rights”?

Why do they have the Top of the Rock Observation deck ticket sales right smack in the middle of the Promenade? It’s an eyesore. The flags of the UN member countries that used to fly on each pole around the plaza had been replaced with satin flags of red, green and gold? How tacky. Call me old-fashioned but I’m not happy with all these changes which I’ve noticed ever since the Rockefeller group of buildings was sold to the Mitsubishi Company. It has become so commercialized even the outdoor Swarovski display hut didn’t fit at all. Have they lost their mind?

Two things though remain in place in the Center, the sculpture by Isamu Noguchi (News) by the entrance to the AP building, and the mural by Jose Marie Sert (American Progress) in the lobby of Rockefeller building, which replaced the controversial Man at the Crossroads by Diego Rivera. They better keep their hands off these artwork because they’re part of the landmark.

Christmas in NY may have gotten a little austere than usual but the spirit is still there. We have some sensible choices to make: be extravagant and broke or be frugal but solvent.

Call these the chain reaction or ripple effect the economists are talking about. The window displays along 5th Ave. are also scaled down. Pretty, but not as lavish and festive. Maybe this is a good thing. There's no crime in living within our means, but we do have some explaining to do to the kids when the display at FAO Schwarz reads: When Santa Turned Green.

My next stop - Grand Central Station.

For Pete's sake

Pink toilet seat and a dinosaur on it? Forget about the hideous part, just be grateful that Peter chooses to do it in private. Can you imagine what this little squirt in the picture goes through everyday?

The statue is supposed to symbolize the joie de vivre of living in Brussels - where happy people eat, drink...and drink...and then pee. Non-stop? In public? I watched the commotion this little guy makes as tour groups come and go in that little street corner the name I don't remember. People shook their heads. The Chinese, with a little frown and stifled smile have the question "Why?" written all over their faces. Yet they posed for a picture with the pissy boy!

The mascot pride of the unpretentious Belgian, Manneken-Pis, has quite a number of legends attached to its name. He was a naughty boy who peed inside a witch's house, so she froze him. A rich man who lost his son promised to make a statue of him doing what he did when he's found. The little beer-loving boy bravely put out a fire that threatened the wooden city. Take your pick.

The gaudy part is that this infant-sized statue sometimes finds itself dressed in one of 700 different costumes that visiting VIPs have brought for him. A clever one is an Elvis Pissley outfit - now that's definitely repulsive! Some even say that this "fountain" was originally built to provide drinking water for the public. Great stories about a great city.

Travel to some cities in South Asia and you'll get a different version of this "Men-Can-They-Piss" story. I'd rather not publish it! Google it, if you're curious - key words, the "U" word or public relief South Asia.

Don't worry Peter, one day you'll get it right. This is a perfectly normal biological function, no one is exempt from it. I grew up with six brothers, so I know. Sorry Peter, your Papa's piece of work is too funny and quite tempting to blog about. And at your expense! Please don't get pissed.

In The Heights

No, Santina is not giving us the digital cheers. The big boss is giving a pep talk to her NY Staff and inspiring them to get focused on their goals for 2009. Yeah right! What goals? They're just glad to have a job. I'm just thrilled that I get a free dinner and show as a guest in the Company holiday party. Yup, sad to say, some of them are my former co-workers. Sorry Pat, just kiddin'.

Dinner and a generous flow of booze, Red Rooster as the favorite, was at Spanky's. After that, the crew was directed to turn on their respective GPS so as not to get lost in the Times Square crowd. It's about three blocks to the Richard Rodgers Theatre. Mark, Santina's better half, with the humor of a full-blooded Briton, designated the US Army Recruiting Station as the lost and found depository, aka dumpster, for those who've gone astray from the wild pack. Good luck with that.

A group picture was taken in the midst of the flood-lit Times Square and with the blustering just above 20's temperature. I begged off on that and headed straight to the theatre. God only knows how they would manage. Mr. Genius, Mark left the piece that was supposed to hold the camera in place on the tripod, at home in upstate Valhalla. Fine place for it to be - miles away from all the glitter that is supposed to be recorded and published for the company newsletter. This whole Q-pidity brought to you by the letter Q. Ha Ha Ha! Sorry, Mark, just couldn't help it. Note: Company name starts with Q.

It was a masterful choreography of street dancing and some classical ballroom moves, In The Heights. The setting is Washington Heights, also nicknamed Spanish Harlem, in the upper west side of the City just off the George Washington Bridge.

Similar to the neighborhood setting of West Side Story and a reminder of the play Rent, this show gave us a taste of the true Latino smooth dance moves and the bouncy music and rap songs that incorporated humor in them. The story revolved around the lead character Usnavi. He was innocently named by his immigrant parents, after the huge US Navy ship which they spotted at the harbor when they first got to New York. Got that?

It was a humorous and refreshing take on the life of the Latino immigrants who settled on the Heights. Rapping, singing, dancing, break-dancing and acting at its best. Were it not for the head of Krupa's husband that was constantly and irritatingly on the move, also annoyingly parked in front of me, I would have had a perfect view. But like Abuela Claudia said, Paciencia y Fe.

I shouldn't complain, this was all for free! It was also fun! Thank - Q.

After reading this blog, I hope they don't bar me from future Company parties.

Puff this magic drug

After almost a week's bout with what started as a tickle in my throat, it was very clear that ignoring the problem will not make this hack go away. When you are of a certain age, a quick trip to the doctor becomes a necessity and yesterday's was less than amusing.

After the routine "Say aah's" and a declaration that "I don't see anything but a slight wax buildup in your right ear", Dr. Jekyll concluded that I don't have strep (Imagine? Just by poking and looking) and I may just need rest and something else. The "something else" part clearly did not sit well with me.

In the meantime, he got this contraption ready for me to inhale some steam from. I shoved it in my mouth and started puffing in some steam and it dawned on me that it wasn't just water I'm taking in. In the middle of a coughing fit, I asked him if this was medicated plus all sorts of questions. Taking care not to tread on his toes, I reminded him that I'm not asthmatic and I don't like being drugged. If he wasn't pleased about my "dissertation", he did a good job of not displaying it; I'm just hoping that he won't take his revenge on my frail body.

But of course he assured me that it was nothing harmful and a minimal metered dose will not kill me. Thanks a lot! Finally his verdict was to put me on a five-day dose of antibiotics. What physician is not notorious of this practice? I wonder if it was a cure for my illness or a punishment for my being a "know-it-all" and questioning his medical approach. It is my body after all.

By the way, I do clean my ears regularly; how dare he! Anyway, we'll see what happens. I hope to live to see this year's Christmas tree at the Rockefeller Center.

Happy Mouse Day

Then

Now

Happy 40th anniversary, "mouse".

Peace through music

The program originally aired on October 24th but last night Bill Moyers reran this documentary. It was a remarkable undertaking by Mark Johnson Playing for Change - Peace thru Music and it took him three years to complete with 100 musicians all over the world taking part in the mix.

Watch this video of the street musicians playing Stand By Me. World's apart but they all speak the same language - music. On a smaller scale, New York underground subways are filled with this type of entertainment that has become a common bond among people from all walks of life. Steel drums, bongos, metal spoons, washboards, bamboo flutes, sitars, guitars, homemade and musical instruments indigenous to many parts of the world, Chinese two-stringed violin, makeshift drums made from empty plastic paint buckets, they are in concert in the busy tunnels of the NYC underground. This is what inspired Mark.

Somehow every decade or so when people are troubled and countries and their heads seem to collide, something out of the ordinary happens which makes things in life easier to deal with. In the early '70s, Les Crane's spoken words of the inspirational poem Desiderata, brought some comfort to us during the recession periods. The Coca-Cola commercial popularized the song I'd Like to Teach the World to Sing. Several recordings were done without the Coke references and became a big hit. Royalties were waived by the company and donated to UNICEF. In 1985 We Are The World, written by Michael Jackson and Lionel Richie was recorded by a group of popular musicians and became a hit single. It was intended to raise funds for the famine-relief efforts in Ethiopia. Musicians called it USA for Africa.

In 1990, several artists including Willie Nelson performed at the Farm Aid IV in Indiana, Elton John dedicated his song Candle in the Wind to an AIDS patient Ryan White who died later on that evening. That same year a massive tribute concert for Nelson Mandela was held and broadcast over 61 countries around the world. Neil Young was one of the performers.

And now this technical genius of Mark Johnson Playing for Change. There is hope for peace through music, a medium that knows no boundaries. Names like Grandpa Elliott, Washboard Chaz, Roger Ridley and Clarence Bekker will go down in history not as Nobel Peace Prize winners but through their music as instruments of peace throughout the world.

I'm sure I missed a few more events during this 38-year period, but these were the ones prominent in my memory.

"Even the dull and ignorant, they too have their story".

Seasonal confusion

What better proof of unseasonably warm weather than this cherry blossoms in December. Last year this tree in my neighborhood bloomed also in the winter time, and in January 2007 some of the trees at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden behaved similarly.

Cherry blossom trees actually bud in the summertime, but they don't open until the following spring. Plants do not keep calendars, are not trained timekeepers and they go only by what nature dictates as the suitable season; since nature has been uncooperative, these poor plants are terribly confused.

What used to be an April event seems to be happening earlier and earlier every year. In Japan the same anomaly has been observed and is of grave concern since this may affect one big source of their revenues - the Cherry Blossom Festival that attract tourists to this beautiful country. Once a cherry blossom tree blooms, that's it for the year. So what will they do, move back the festival dates earlier and earlier? How about Washington, DC and the rest of the country that pride themselves with gorgeous cherry blossoms in the spring? And what about the botanists and horticulturists? Rewrite the textbooks? Oh what a mess this could create.

Save the serious blogging for the Cooler Heads Coalition, but this sure is one of the early warning signs of global warming. The earth is heating up and the consequences irreversible.

During the dull days of winter these flowers are a welcome sight. Unusual, so, in the years to come what can we expect in April? Dog days, I hope not.

Measuring up

I’m having a “spirit is willing but the flesh is weak” kind of day today. According to my friend Pat this unseasonable type of weather, temperatures see-sawing between 30 and 50 degrees F back and forth, makes all those germs and spores in the air active. Somehow they have chosen me as the host, nothing serious, but just feeling lousy.

Today I just vegged out after my morning walk, then watched some segments of Planet Earth. Who’s counting the number of times I’ve seen the films? These natural history cameramen are just amazingly talented and dedicated. I just love the diaries at the conclusion of each segment. Imagine staying for days on, living in the confines of a cave with bats and piles of dung just to get a perfect shot! BBC really did a fantastic job on this series.

As part of my yucky feeling survival, I try to eat something light and get a lot of rest. Light as in chicken soup and Jell-O for dessert! Jell-O? In my senior years, I have become less ambitious in the kitchen and started taking the easy route. Dissolve and chill. Jell-O although not exactly comfort food, is easy to digest, I think, and if it makes Cosby’s kids jump for joy then it must be good.

Which raises a question. What is Jell-O made of? Jell-O as we know is the brand name for a gelatin dessert preparation. Gelatin can be found as ingredient in a lot of foods as thickener or emulsifier and in pills as coating to make them easy to swallow.

But where does gelatin come from? You better be sitting down for this unappealing truth! Gelatin is a processed version of protein called collagen. The gelatin you eat in Jell-O comes from the collagen in cow or pig bones, hooves, and connective tissues. These parts are ground and pre-treated with strong acid or base to break down the cells and release the collagen. There’s more to it but Food Chemistry is not our subject here so we’ll skip the details. Yes indeed, and you claim you don’t eat pig’s knuckles, ears or chicken cartilage. Surprised huh? Or maybe not.

Gelatin is ubiquitous and can be found in yogurt, chewing gum, cream cheese, soups, cake icing, sausages, cosmetics, pills, etc. Yikes!
And gummy bears also.
No big deal. I am partly made of collagen too!
I love Jell-O just don’t give me that green-colored flavor. It’s a good simple dessert by my standards. I tell you I'm feeling much better already, thanks to Jell-O.

Mission possible

Our Carol (the wife, mother, sister, daughter, cousin, aunt, niece, in-law, friend) has done it again. She was accepted to the Doctoral Program in Nursing at University of Medicine and Dentistry of New Jersey!

Congratulations. We never doubted your ability. In less than five years, she’s accomplished so much. First, uprooting herself from a career of over 19 years as nurse in Michigan City, Indiana, leaving her husband Ped and son Marc and moving to New York as a traveling nurse. Ped followed suit after a year of her stay in NY, successfully landed an equally great job at Memorial Sloan Kettering, while Marc stayed in Chicago to get established on his own. This would eventually turn out to be a great decision Carol made, expanding her career, working permanently at an administrative nursing level at the Hospital for Special Surgery, and finishing her MS in Nursing this year. And then pursuing her educational goals further.

All in one fell swoop, she did these. Cool as a cucumber as she gets to the finish line!

Typical graduate programs take five to seven years to complete but according to her, this will take two years. This is not to be taken lightly. We know Carol could do it and with flying colors. Committing to a PhD also means some sacrifice, perseverance and hard work and that’s not new to her. Take heart! This is exciting and a positive experience that will further enhance her leadership skills. She loves being pushed and challenged and I’m sure she’ll be best served by this choice in career path.

We’ve known her to be ambitious from the start, whatever Carol wants Carol gets. She doesn't let anything stand in her way. The family is behind you, Carol. Go for it, we'll be there to cheer you on.

A lovely family, a successful career, a house in NJ a couple of years after they moved to NY and now this graduate program. And the NYC half-marathon in January and the Chicago Marathon next year. That’s a given!

Marc says “Dr. Tinio has a nice ring to it, Mom”. It sure does and it's a reason to celebrate, family!

To sleep, perchance to bloom

Cyclamen persicum

On my first visit to Phyllis' enviably gorgeous apartment in Manhattan, I spotted this plant on the kitchen counter wilting and almost out of life. I must've sported my "St. Bernard's sad eyes" look that she asked if I want to adopt her plant. She was about to discard it. Sitting in it's original green plastic florist pot, this corky tuber which still seemed to be capable of being revived, found its new home at my place. I don't mind that my neighbors unload their dying plants at my front door, so why should I turn this one down?

I repotted the root and took care of it indoors occasionally moving it from room to room in order for it to get some sun. I followed its growth from day one and took pictures as it evolved into a lush plant with deep magenta flowers. It was a crash course on cyclamen propagation; much of the tips I got from the Cyclamen Society website. Isn't it a luxury that we have all that information at our fingertips nowadays? And isn't it cool that there exists a Society for almost anything?

Of particular interest was the way the petals reflex back from the center as the flower approaches the final stage of full bloom, likened to a graceful layback spin by figure skater Michelle Kwan. The blooming process would be interesting to catch with time-lapse photography. For one season, Phyllis' plant provided such a radiant touch to my place especially during the holidays. During its second season it didn't bear any flowers, so I decided to plant it directly on the ground. For a while I thought I killed the poor plant but it turned out it was just laying dormant in the summer time.

Last month when we met with Phyllis and Chantal, they asked me about the cyclamen and I sadly admitted of it's death. Then one day after my Fall cleanup in the garden my mother announced that she saw some new growth in the garden. Two little pink buds were peeking out of the stiff frozen soil. She knew I'd get a high out of this one.

Mother was on target! Voila. It was the cyclamen roused from it's beauty sleep. I rushed to the garage, reached for a pot and some soil and brought this plant back indoors. If this sounds like it was such a big production, it may have been and I expect only an avid gardener to understand. We were so thrilled.

Awakened from its beauty nap, the cyclamen warms up the house on cold wintry days. Thanks, Phyllis. It is a sweet reminder of our friendship.

La Damnation de Faust

It's not strictly an opera but rather a symphonic poem as I learned today. La Damnation de Faust is based on Goethe's legendary Faust, composed by Berlioz and staged as a "dramatic legend" by the Met.

We witnessed a new direction the opera has taken as the Met under Peter Gelb's management mixed traditional stage set with cutting edge software technology. It was hailed as the marriage between theatre and state-of-the-art video technology. Holger Forterer a German interactive video designer takes the credit for using this technology for set design. This was done skillfully without the video imagery overwhelming the music or drama. The images were not pre-recorded, rather the performers, acrobats, dancers and singers contribute to the projection through their movements or the pitch of their voices.

The producer Robert Lepage is known for his Cirque du Soleil production of Ka among others. To the unschooled like myself in this type of production, the set appeared to be a cold metal scaffolding of sorts with boxed compartments resembling the old Hollywood Squares television board which is a stack of open-faced cubicles.

But it is more than that. There were elaborate changes taking place, video projections on the stage, acrobatic and classical dance and of course the Met boasting its talented mezzo-soprano Susan Graham as Marguerite, Marcello Giordani as Faust and John Reylea as Mephistopheles. James Levine could not have been the perfect conductor bringing back this production to the Met. It has not been performed here in over 100 years.

Not everyone though was thrilled with this innovative style. At intermission, overheard in the ladies room line was a little old lady chastising Peter Gelb for his approach to this production. "It's utter nonsense", she declared. "Purely and totally nonsense. You can teach dogs, monkeys and horses to walk backwards too. This is not an opera. It's a symphonic poem and it belongs to the cinema!".

Outspoken and opinionated, she takes a very firm stand against this and all future productions under Gelb's flagship and swore that she'll write the Met out of her will and will not renew her subscription of 60 years. She is one dissatisfied benefactor. All because of change from tradition.

La Damnation de Faust where art meets technology. I feel privileged to have witnessed this change. (Sorry about the blurry picture of the stage; that was a strictly forbidden stolen shot).

Simply the best

The roads were empty on the way to New Jersey but as usual the expected happened. Between Mapquest's sucky directions and Jersey's horrible road signs, I don't know who to curse; we missed a turn and ended up in a gas station for help. This I was trying to avoid since we are not on friendly territory. If you've driven on the Jersey Turnpike you know you're toast if you miss an exit or a turn!

I was disappointed that the Prudential Center Arena with an 18,000 seating capacity wasn't filled to the roof. Our seats were perfect mezzanine center, it was too bad that I was such a jerk to be so "law-abiding" not to bring a camera. I saw lots of people taking pictures, not fair. Security check even made me dump my can of ginger ale and bottled water into the trash. So mean!

The minute Tina got on stage half-hour late, the arena rocked. However I found the New Jersey audience to be a little subdued compared to the New York crowds.

The 69 year old still sexy but classy Tina was energy-packed and her voice seems to be more powerful than ever. Wearing those 6-inch spike heels and doing her signature leg twitches and kicks, body and head shakes, she displayed such physical stamina most women in their 60's would have long lost. Her singing remains flawless as she reached her golden age, the crowd roaring as she sang What's Love Got to Do With It, Al Green's Let's Stay Together, The Beatles' Help, Creedence Clearwater Revival's Proud Mary, Private Dancer, Simply The Best and a host of other old and new songs.

The band electrified the stage, the whole set and the show with the dancers, back-up singers and the pyrotechnic display was a blast! She began to sing Proud Mary with a series of nice and easy body sways that teased the audience and finally broke into an explosion that's Tina Turner's trademark.

She was great, seemed fearless as she was lifted by a cherry picker several feet above the band on stage, and continued to sing and dance on what looked like a narrow slippery runway.

What a performance! Age-defying, strong and still sexy, sometimes referred to as the female Mick Jagger, Tina Turner is simply the best.

Giving thanks

Day of giving thanks and we did.
I'm grateful for good health and the things that matter.

Yesterday I got a call from a good friend who offered a couple of tickets to the concert of Tina Turner tonight at the Prudential Center in Newark, NJ. How can I say no to that? Not even on Thanksgiving Day. This is Tina Turner my goodness, what is there to think about? Free, mezzanine premium seats ($100 each) and the show doesn't start until 7:30 pm anyway, so we have plenty of time.

We didn't waste any time -picked up the tickets, quickly said our thank yous and hurried back home. Chong had to rearrange the schedule such that we'll have early dinner (she always invites us for Thanksgiving at her place), then leave for NJ around 4:30 pm. Good enough for me, I'm not the one who's driving. Not to New Jersey anyway! It's the pits we always get lost. And at night? Fuggedaboudit!

I'll tell you all about it tomorrow, I'm sure Tina is going to bring the house down.

Proud Mary keeps on burnin', rollin', rollin'....

Now I have one more thing to thank God for - these priceless tickets that just came from nowhere. Am I lucky or what? See 'ya later.

Far from the madding crowd

We visit places, take home souvenirs and often times never bother to check for their authenticity or meaning. Maybe we doze off as the tour guide provided the commentary or were too busy taking photos; whatever it is, I now have this need to jog my memory.

This wooden paper weight has sat on my desk for the longest. It’s labeled “From the yew tree Stoke Poges Church”. Not having seen one, I decided to look up the significance of the yew tree.

Check this out. Most parts of the tree are toxic. No wonder I’m getting occasional memory lapses and brain freeze and as a result, often I just stare and suffer from blogger’s block. Thanks to yew!

Ironically it is also the source of a potent chemotherapeutic cancer drug (Taxol). The alkaloid or bioactive chemical can be extracted from the bark of the tree. We might recall how Al Gore and other environmentalists were strongly opposed to this since it will end up killing the trees. The yew is associated with Wales and England and commonly found in the church yards. They can live as long as 2000 years and have become a symbol of life but sometimes also referred to as the “tree of death” because it is poisonous. The only part which isn't is the fleshy part of the seed.

It is all coming back to me now, after nearly two decades. We visited this very old tiny church Stoke Poges is the name, in the countryside of England. According to the literature, in 1750 it is in this church graveyard that the poet Thomas Gray wrote his masterpiece Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard. Remember the phrase – "Far from the madding crowd"? He later was buried beside his mother also in this churchyard. Related to this are the spin-offs taken from the famous line - Far From the Madding Crowd, an 1874 novel which is a portrait of English rural life, by Thomas Hardy and later in 1967 a film production where Julie Christie played the central character Bathsheba. It’s good to learn that even in those days when it was not fashionable for a woman to be independent there was Bathsheba who broke the mold.

The photos I took (before the days of digital cameras) were a reminder of how beautiful and tranquil this place was. The church pews were made of thick wooden planks that have shown their age. The place, peaceful and truly an ideal breeding ground for churchyard poets. Far from the maddening crowd, indeed. Below is the Litch Gate entrance to the church and graveyard.

All these and more. Amidst this frenzied society, Long live the yew tree!