9pm: "I think it was the fourth of..."
Central Park: The Great Lawn
Well, it's not the 4th of July, but it was a perfect day in Central Park. You can see Belvedere Castle in the background, as I shot this from the middle fo the Great Lawn after a nice game of softball on Field #4. Of course, I was right about Bobby Kennedy not showing up, and I learned why when I got back from the park to find this picture from last night in my email. According to Claudia, our Monsieur Skelly was at Mo's until the wee hours, which was certainly no surprise to me. The only thing I was wrong about was the beverage...as you can see he opted for Twisted Tea last night.
"10am game? I'll be there."
Anyway, there was another wedding party taking wedding photos in the park, and I'm beginning to realize this must be a weekly occurrence, and a nice one at that. They were nice enough to allow me to snap some shots of my own, and I'm putting them here for you to see (click "more" below, and the only reason I'm adding this instructional note is because I got an email from my good pal Rand last month asking where the "More" was?#!)...
...so, as promised, here are a couple of shots of the lovely bride and her groom:
Wedding In The Park
Wedding Couple
So, I played some softball, and we were supposed to play two, but the second game was cancelled due to the appearance of a UFO on the Field:
Disc Alert
So, we skipped the 2nd game and I came home and watched the rest of the Yankees/Mets game, but not before taking a parting shot of the castle on the way out:
Belvedere Castle
I know I have a few shots of the castle on this blog, but hey, it's a touch of Medieval on a patch of forest in the middle of a megalopolis at the dawn of the 21st Century...you gotta love that.
Round Midnite: Designing Designing Designs...
Finite Productions, Ink (A Division of Infinity)
Sorry I haven't been blogging this week, but I've been designing the website for Finite Productions, Ink, which you may visit by clicking either the snapshot above or the link in this sentence.
But, I have it on good authority that Bobby Kennedy (a/k/a Jame Skelly III, Esq., the reputed Duke of Earl, the Earl of Chester, King of the Castle and all that the eye can see--not to mention alleged master of his domain, but I doubt it) shall be sallying forth over hill and dale to seek out the great game of Abner Doubleday on the Great Lawn that Frederick Olmstead or his heirs and benefactors ordained as Central Park. We will bring cletes, gloves, bats and balls, caps and shades, and shall hold ourselves out as fit for competition (tho it may be a bald-faced lie). I'll have my camera and promise pictures aplenty upon the completion of said knightly quest.
Of course, on the other hand, it may be that whilst I toil here at the keyboard, my good friend and baseball co-conspirator may be downing another in an endless and numberless line of Rolling Rocks at the establishment of our choice (Read: Mo's Caribbean), and won't be up before the sun goes down, let alone in time to play this ballgame at 10 or 11 am, but oh well...
12:31pm: One of the World's Natural Wonders
Belvedere Castle
No sailing this weekend, so I opted for two days of softball in Central Park, one of the natural wonders of the world. That photo above is Belvedere Castle, located next to Shakespeare's Garden, designed in 1865 by Calvert Vaux and Jacob Wrey Mould, and built in 1869. It used to house the New York Meteorological Observatory, founded by Dr. Daniel Draper in 1868, and now hosts the U.S. Weather Bureau...
Anyway, I booted up my rig (which consists of my backpack--loaded with my Wilson A-2000 baseball glove, a hardball, a softball, my Olympus C-3040 digital camera, some Gatorade and sugarless bubble gum (a baseball staple), and my bike--a Bianchi racer whose racing days are long behind it (or at least me)--with Louisville Slugger Warlord Softball bat replacing the water bottle in the bottle holder, you can't hit .300 with a bottle of Perrier. Here's my rig:
Click to Enlarge: My Rig: Bianchi Campione Del Mondo
As I was biking along the path toward the Great Lawn, behind the Metropolitan Museum of Art, I saw something which gave me paws, so I hopped off the bike and sniffed around a little bit, kicked at the gravel and pulled out my camera for some shots of this guy. At first I thought he was rehearsing a graduation speech or something, until I realized he was preaching...to no one, just to passers-by. But I kept it in the back of my head that he must be waiting for someone, maybe Godot. Eitherwise, maybe he really was rehearsing a graduation speech, or one kind or another.
Are We In Tune
Anyway, I played softball all day Saturday and all day Sunday, and on the way back on Sunday I rode past the Metropolitan Museum of Art and snapped some photos:
Click to Enlarge: Metropolitan Museum of Art
Altogether, it was a great weekend in the park, and I took a bunch more photos, which you can see on my Happy Hour Site, on the June 23 Photos Page.
Oh, yeah, I almost forgot. On the way out I met a wedding party: bride, groom, maid of honor and best man, roaming through the labrynthine walkways of the east meadow and looking for all the world like they were lost. They stopped everyone that passed, asking for directions and looking at their watches. When they reached me the bride stepped up, smiling with shy embarrassment, and asked me if I had seen the...well, you know...
"Have You Seen A Preacher?"
1:49pm: But I'm Back...
Sorry folks, I've been busy with change, and we're not talking chump change, but some fairly major lifestyle renovations, over here. My bartending schedule is altered somewhat, and less structured. But, they say that change is good, and behind every cloud there's a silver cliche, right?
I'm refocusing my efforts and time expenditure to emphasize my writing (as always) and, now, a web design studio, with the gradual arrival of Finite Productions, Ink (A Division of Infinity) .
The site's up and running (although under steady construction) and I'm now taking on clients for web design projects. So, for the time being, my time will be going more into getting that site up and running and less on the blog, here, although I will try to make regular posts as I am able.
As you know, I've also been sailing with my sailing buddy Neil Rodgers, and though my new bartending schedule has put somewhat of a crimp in the sailing, we're still looking forward to a great summer of sailing and racing, and I will faithfully report on all sailing adventures at this location and on 2 Idiots In A Boat (on the Dash Sailing journal pages).
So, thanks for checking back, and I should be in more constant contact via this site from now on.
G.
Midnight: A Day On The Water
I was pulling on my softball gear when the phone rang on Saturday, Neil was on the other end, and said his brother J.R. had called about the possibility of sailing in the afternoon. "Did you already make plans to play softball?" he asked.
"Forget it, I'm in," I told him, and quickly (and literally) changed gear. I had already packed my sailing bag the night before on the off chance we might be sailing, so I was ready to roll. It was sunny and 71 here in the city, but after checking the National Weather Service for the coastal marine forecast I thought it might get brisk on the Sound later in the afternoon, so I packed a long-sleeve shirt and a fleece-lined sailing jacket and set out for Penn Station and points East.
Neil met me at 75th and Lex and we hopped in a cab and high-tailed it to Penn Station and the 2:19 to Douglaston, talking sailing the whole way out. It's a short walk from the station to the dock, and we admired the beautiful properties along the route, with tall maples, oaks and dogwoods lining the quiet street, and a quaint little Japanese Tea Garden just across from the Yacht Club. Beautiful. Also beautiful was the day, as we lounged at the dock awaiting the arrival of the others and I snapped a few preliminary shots of Neil, and a Seagull bringing take-out home for the family.
Oh boy, I LOVE these things! (Click to Enlarge)
Roman soon arrived and we helped him unload the supplies he'd generously picked up on the way, and then Neil's brother J.R. arrived with his daughter Caitlin, and we were ready to sail. We climbed aboard the launch and Justin ferried us to "This Is It," a nicely appointed C&C 35 owned and skippered by Rob S., as friendly and jovial a skipper as you could meet. There were four in our party, and we were welcomed aboard by Rob and his son, Derek, a bright and energetic young man, with handshakes and smiles. Once aboard I made my way belowdecks to stow my gear and climb into the auto-inflating SOSpenders brand Type-V PFD (Personal Floatation Device) with built-in harness I just purchased online from Sailnet.com. After the sad loss of Jamie Boeckel during the annual Block Island Race over Memorial Day weekend, I've decided that if it could happen to a professional sailor like Boeckel, it could certainly happen to me. Boeckel was knocked unconscious and overboard when the spinnaker pole broke...
during a headsail change in high winds. I don't know if a Type V would have saved him, but an auto-inflatable will generally float an unconsious sailor face up while the crew performs the man-overboard drill and returns to pull him out. So, I will wear the Type V; its only a minor inconvenience, and once donned it is soon forgotten.
Back up on deck I made a visual inspection of the running rigging to familiarize myself with the boat, examining the mast and boom, and the various halyards leading into and out of the mast, matching one end with the other to determine which halyard served what purpose. We had a slight snag (literally) when hoisting the mains'l, as the halyard was bunched and jammed behind the block at the foot of the mast, and would not release; as a result we couldn't raise the mainsail. We monkeyed around with it a little bit, taking care not to pull too hard on anything (like Jim Pinno always says, if you have to use too much force something's wrong--sailing is supposed to be fun), and finally the halyard pulled loose from the block. We raised the main, cast off the mooring lines, and ran downwind toward open water.
On the way out we passed several local boats known to our mates, and Derek led the assault team, launching water-balloon broadsides at these unsuspecting crews with tact and precision. Well done, Derek! A special ahoy goes out from Derek to his good friends Matt, Mike, Alex, Kelsey, Angelica, and the Cool Twins--Vico & Gemma. And oh, yeah, hey Joe and Marc!
Once we hit open water Rob called for the cruising spinnaker, J.R. pulled it from the cargo hold belowdecks, and we rigged and hoisted it, watching as its brilliant red, white and blue surface filled with wind. Neil manned the helm and steered us on a run, with Caitlin as his navigator, and Roman and I taking turns trimming the spinnaker. Roman trimmed port side for the first leg, and then we jibed to a starboard tack and I took up the spinnaker sheet from starboard, taking Rob's advice and wrapping an arm around the shroud for safekeeping. And too, the sailing gloves I'd brought were belowdecks in my bag, so J.R. generously offered up his own, and they were indispensible (and way better than what I had brought with me, which were an old pair of tackified Neuman gloves I've been wearing in my football league for years. When the fingers wear through on those they make great sailing gloves--but not as great as real sailing gloves--which J.R. had--fingerless at the first joint, with rough-hewn leather palms for tailing and trimming.)
We held that starboard tack for a good bit, and Neil made some turkey and swiss heros (no one makes them better) and we had a little lunch there in the cockpit, digging the sun and the waves and the groove. Perfect. I go down looking for something soft to drink and low and behold, there in the cooler belowdecks, along with the case of Heineken, are 3 bottles of Vanilla Coke. I look at Neil.
"Dude, there's Vanilla Coke in here."
"No Way."
"Way."
Turns out Roman, when he was getting the Heineken, remembered that I was drinking Vanilla Coke the last time we sailed, and bought some of that in addition to the beer. Later on, when Neil and I were coming up the dock after the sail, I said to him "how about that Roman, picking up Vanilla Cokes for me.
"He's a great guy, that doesn't surprise me," Neil said. "What surprises me is that he remembered!"
Anyway, we sailed for about 2 hours and it was time to turn around and head for home, so Rob and J.R. prepared to douse the spinnaker--accomplished by pulling the dousing sock back down over her, quick and neat. Rob asked me if I wanted to take the helm during this operation, which I gladly did, bearing off onto a dead run while the main was loosed, blanketing the spinnaker to tame the wind out of her and make her easier to bring down. When the spinnaker was in Rob had me turn back, so I steered to starboard and headed up while Rob and J.R. unfurled the genoa and we were close hauling back toward the harbor, heeling nicely into the wind in the brisk twilight of early evening.
Rob and J.R. shared some stories of past racing exploits, and we listened as they planned their annual 3-day race around Long Island scheduled for (I think) sometime around Labor Day. I mentioned to Neil that we should try and get onto a crew for that race, and chances are if the opportunity develops--we will. I sat on the bow pulpit during the last leg into the harbor, one of my favorite perches on a boat, and when we got close Rob kicked over the screw and furled the jib as we motored into the harbor. We picked up the mooring ball, fastened the halyards, tied down and covered the mainsail, and J.R. put on the finishing touches by flemishing the lines. Dan retreived us in the launch, and we thanked Rob and Derek for their friendship and hospitality and said good-night, and J.R., Caitlin, Roman, Neil and I convened at the restaurant by the train station to hang out and preview the digital pics while Neil and I waited for the 8:51 back to the city. It was a great day on the water with some great people, most informative and memorable, and I hope we can do it again as the summer goes along. And, now that you've read this far, you might as well check out the rest of the PHOTOS.
1:04pm: Take The Long Way Home
Aswan, Egypt, 1998, Photographed by Bob Sacha
"Several stories down but still sunlit, the waters of an ancient well near Aswan, Egypt, mark the arrival of the summer solstice. In the third century B.C. in Alexandria, the Greek scholar Eratosthenes relied on both geometry and reports of the suns annual appearance almost directly over Aswan to calculate Earths circumference, arriving at an estimate close to the actual distance. His successors put the figure at far less, giving Columbus the mistaken idea that India lay half as far from Portugal if traveling west across the Atlantic as east across land."
From Revolution in Mapping, February 1998, National Geographic magazine
1:00am: Big Brother Is Watching
George Orwell
Born: June 25, 1903, Motihari, India
Died: January 21, 1950, London
George Orwell was the pen name of the English author, Eric Arthur Blair. His chilling masterpiece 1984 was published on this date in 1949.
"1984 was a bitter protest against the nightmarish direction in which the author believed the modern world was moving. In the story, Britania has become Airstrip One in the superstate Oceania, which is ruled by the head of the Party, Big Brother. The Party's agents constantly rewrite history. The official language is Newspeak, and the society is dominated by such slogans as "War is Peace", "Freedom is Slavery", "Ignorance is Strength." Orwell shows that the destruction of language is part of all other destrucive social aims. The hero, Winston Smith, a minor Party operative, keeps a secret diary and has a brief love affair with a girl named Julia. He is arrested by the Thought Police, tortured and brainwashed. His spirit broken, Winston finally learns to love Big Brother. Some critics have related Smith's sufferings to those the author underwent at preparatory school. Orwel has said that the book was written "to alter other people's idea of the kind of society they should strive after." (from The Literature Network)
Noon: Assassinated This Date In '68
Born: November 20, 1925
Assassinated: June 5, 1968
Died: June 6, 1968
"Some men see things as they are and say why.
I dream things that never were and say why not."
1968 Robert F. Kennedy shot
"At 12:50 a.m. PDT, Senator Robert F. Kennedy, a presidential candidate, is shot three times in a hail of gunfire in the Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles. Five others were wounded. The senator had just completed a speech celebrating his victory in the California presidential primary. The shooter, Palestinian Sirhan Sirhan, had a smoking .22 revolver wrested from his grip and was promptly arrested. Kennedy, critically wounded, was rushed to the hospital, where he fought for his life for the next 24 hours. On the morning of June 6, he died. He was 42 years old. On June 8, Kennedy was buried at Arlington National Cemetery, also the final resting place of his assassinated older brother, President John F. Kennedy." (From The History Channel)
I remember sitting in Al Stadden's 9th Grade history class in Falmouth, Maine on June 6, 1968, reading about the Hapsburgs and Austria and the Ottoman Empire in the sweltering heat, and then learning, either over the school P.A. or from Stadden himself, that Bobby Kennedy had succumbed to his wounds and died. The sixties, in my opinion, began with J.F.K.'s assassination in November '63 and ended with our pulling out of Vietnam in January '73 with the signing of the Paris Peace Accords. During that decade, euphamistically known as the sixties, there were many memorable moments, but many of them were tragic. Just two months earlier, nearly to the day, Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated in Memphis, and now came Bobby Kennedy. Woodstock happened in August of '69, but the mixed peace, love and understanding of that chaotic milestone was quickly followed in December '69 by the Stones debacle at Altamont. Four dead in Ohio at Kent State in May of '70 marked the beginning of the end (not even to begin to mention those killed, maimed, missing, and wounded in the Vietnam War). It was a memorable decade, but turbulent; historical and in many ways magical, but also violent, infused with mayhem and loss. Robert F. Kennedy's assassination was another rip in the fabric of a nation that, in many ways, is still healing from those wounds, although there are now newer wounds to heal.
11:09am: Me Tarzan, Olympic Gold Medal Swimmer
Ed Stephan's Tarzan Website
This is a day late and a dollar short, but I didn't want to forget Johnny Weismuller's birthday, which was yesterday, June 2. Though dozens of actors have protrayed Edgar Rice Burrough's famous "Tarzan" character, Weismuller was, and continues to be, the only truly definitive Hollywood Tarzan. He made his films during a 16-year stretch from 1932-1948, and brought some kind of magical realism to the fictional character, alternating as he did between heartwarming kindness and athletic, scene-stealing stunts on the one hand, and a foreboding and hostile sneer toward outsiders and poachers on the other. Weismuller had won 5 swimming gold medals in the 1924 and '28 Olympics, and though he was no actor, he was a natural in front of the camera with his charismatic smile and trademark raspy voice. And too, his films were bolstered with great performances by Maureen O'Sullivan (Jane) and Johnny Sheffield (Boy). Maureen O'Sullivan made 10 Tarzan films with Weismuller, the last being my favorite, Tarzan's New York Adventure (1942), which features an unforgettable scene in which Weismuller is chased by police to the George Washington Bridge, which he scales and then dives off of, into the Hudson, and lives! The following is borrowed from Those Were The Days:
"He was born on this day in 1904 in Freidorf, near Timisoara, Romania. From the age of three, he was raised in the asphalt jungle of Chicago, but reached the pinnacle of his fame in a tropical jungle. Johnny Weissmuller played the role of Tarzan more than any other actor in a decade of Tarzan films.
Weissmuller was a star athlete, however, way before he became a Hollywood star. An Olympic Gold Medalist, Johnny Weissmuller won a total of five gold medals in swimming in the 1924 and 1928 Olympics. He also collected 52 U.S. and 67 world swimming records.
Without much competition in the swimming pool or in the Tarzan movies, we could say that Weismullers only competition was his co-star, Maureen OSullivan. Their first [1932] Tarzan movie was Tarzan the Ape Man; the last together was in 1942, titled, Tarzans New York Adventure."
11:59pm: A Truly Great Lawn
Central Park: The Great Lawn Across Turtle Pond
The day sail fell through on Saturday, so I took the opportunity, with the beautiful weather, to take in the spectacular vigor of Central Park's newly renovated Great Lawn, just across Turtle Pond from Belvedere Castle. Used to be, back in the day, every summer weekend was spent playing softball on the Great Lawn, 11am to 5 or 6pm, every Saturday and Sunday, like a ritual. But during the 90's I played in the men's baseball league in Bergen County and played hardball every Sunday, so it had been a while since softball on the Great Lawn. And, back in the day, the Great Lawn was nothing if not a misnomer, for there was no lawn, just sand and dirt and ruts and rocks; matter of fact I used to refer to it as the Great Prarie. That has changed, however, with the Park Conservancy's 2-year, $18.2 Million Dollar Makeover, which was completed and unveiled in October '97 (just in time for winter!). But, what a difference; here are a couple of before and after shots:
I had been on the field since the renovations, but not to play baseball. In summer, of late, we usually blade out to the Sheep Meadow on weekends to throw the frisbee around, so I'd see it now and then. And this fall, during football season, Jake, Chris, Mike and I would go out to the Great Lawn with a football a couple of times a week to get in a little practice. But until this weekend I hadn't played a full day of softball on the fields, like in the old days, and it was truly wonderful.
I went out on Saturday morning and met a nice bunch of folks that were just hitting and fielding, and they invited me into the mix. Pretty soon we had enough for a game, which lasted all day. When we lost Diamond #3 to the Little Leaguers (permits take precedence, naturally, and we were happy to move over to let the future big-leaguers take their licks) we moved on over to #1 and started anew. And I ran into Dennis DeVivo and Jimmy Nix, two of my old softball buddies from the old days, out there with their own kids.
It was great to see my old friends, but sad to learn from Jimmy that his brother-in-law, Mike Carroll, a FDNY firefighter, was lost on September 11th. He told me Sports Illustrated dedicated an issue to FDNY and NYPD victims of 9/11, most of whom were also accomplished athletes, and that Michael Carroll was featured in the article. I can't find the article online, but when I get a copy of it I'll post a tribute to Mike on this site. Mike and his brother Billy Carroll, also a Firefighter, were both teammates on our old Charlie Brown softball and football teams (and both great natural athletes and really great guys). Like everyone else here in the city, my list of friends and acquaintences who were lost in the towers continues to grow, and I am sorry now to have to add Mike Carroll to that list. I have posted a tribute to Sept. 11 on my Journal website, and River Oak Review has published my short tribute in their latest issue, which is reprinted on my Fiction Page, along with my latest published short story. (Check the "Relativity" page, at the end of the story.)
On Sunday we were supposed to have a team practice for Mo's Amigos softball team, but the people that didn't show up were absent, so back I went to the Great Lawn. Second verse, same as the first, met up with a couple of guys and we started throwing a hardball around on Field #1, and then a few more showed up and we pulled out the softball and started hitting and fielding, and by 2pm we had enough for a game, and played a dandy of one. And, another chance encounter with some friends from the past: Jennifer and George, whose wedding I attended, and who I had not seen for quite some time. They were sitting out in the sun behind the backstop and came over to say hi, and we caught up a little bit and it was great to see them.
My only regret on the whole weekend in the Park was that I didn't bring the camera out there, it was a truly picturesque weekend and I could have gotten a ton of great shots with the camera (to make up for some of the ones that weren't in my bat). Plus, I could have taken pics of Jimmy Nix and Dennis DeVivo and their kids, and George and Jennifer, to post on the site. Even as it was I had to purloin these photos of the Park from the net, but oh well. There will be other softball weekends on the Great Lawn, and I will bring my camera and report on those outings and post some original photos, too.
8:54pm: It's A Bird, It's A Plane, It's...
First Issue
"The first issue of Action Comics was published on this day in 1938. In its pages was the worlds first super hero, Superman.
Jerry Siegel had a dream about the baby, Moses, who was abandoned by his parents in order that his life be saved. This dream prompted Siegels creation of the Man of Steel. Artist Joe Shuster made the comic book hero come alive. The first story, in this first issue, took place on the planet, Krypton, where baby Kal-El was born. The infant was shot to Earth in a rocket just before Krypton exploded.
We all know the rest of the story: the baby landed in Smalltown, U.S.A., was adopted by the Kent family and named, Clark. On Earth, Clark Kent had superhuman powers, faster than a speeding bullet ... more powerful than a locomotive ... able to leap tall buildings at a single bound. The only thing that could render him powerless was kryptonite, a green rock from the planet Krypton. Disguised as a timid, bespectacled reporter for Metropolis Daily Planet (with coworkers Lois Lane, Jimmy Olsen and boss Perry White), Superman was determined to fight the never-ending battle for truth, justice and the American way.
Superman was born in a comic strip in 1938; but he continues to live in TV reruns, films starring Christopher Reeve and in the recent TV series, Lois and Clark." (from Those Were The Days)