June Reading Summary

 Besides the usual 8 books by my remaining Avon/Equinox series writers, I managed to read 4 others, and parts of four others.  I am taking my time reading 4 books over many months, including one on American paintings in the DIA, the Beethoven biography by Swafford, a book of folk tales, and a coffee table book on great train journeys of the world.  Those will be wrapped up eventually, but I am in no hurry.

My monthly reading always begins with Robert Silverberg.  This time it was the epic Lord of Darkness, from 1983.  At 612 pages, it is one of the longest novels by the 24 Avon/Equinox authors I have come across.  Silverberg divides the story into 5 books.  Essentially it is the true story of Andrew Battell, from Leigh in England.  The action takes places in the latter part of the 16th C and the early part of the 17th.  Silverberg is a renowned history writer, where I first encountered him as a youth.  While the historical details of Battell's surrealistic life are scant, Silverberg fills in the narrative skillfully and with great attention to historical detail.  If proof is needed that truth is stranger than fiction, look no farther than the life led by Battell.  Stranded in South America on his first voyage abroad, he is enslaved by the Portuguese and eventually brought to Angola, in Africa.  Here the adventures truly begin, and never stop.  While Silverberg invents details such as a family for Battell, for the most part his story jives with the facts (available on the internet in full).  This is a tale of darkness and suffering, and a harrowing account of  Portuguese rule at the time.  If this were pure fiction, no reader would believe it remotely possible that such events ever happened.  And even if only 1/3 of the things told in this tale did actually happen, and the rest never did, then Battell still would have led the most remarkable life one could ever imagine.  Highly recommended.

For Love of Evil is the 6th book in Piers Anthony's Incarnations of Immortality series.  Published in 1988, this is one of the best of the series, if not the best so far.  What I do like about the series is how Anthony relates some of the same events from different perspectives.  Book Six concerns the doings of Satan, and while he has been featured in each of the first five books, he finally gets to tell his own story here, and we see his side of things for the first time.  The action starts in the late 12th C, and is quite brutal.  The opening scene of a frightened village girl entering the hut of a sorcerer is one of the best openings to a fantasy novel I have ever read.  At some point I asked myself where this medieval tale, good as it was, was going.  Knowing Anthony's writing as well as I do, I was confident it would all tie in.  And it does, quite beautifully.  We meet many old characters, and a few newer ones.  I seriously don't know how Anthony can keep track of all this without continually rereading the earlier volumes.  He seems to write a book from many different series each year, so how he can keep them all straight in his mind is really something.  A winner!

The Stainless Steel Rat Joins the Circus, Harrison's novel from 1999, is another very fun entry in the beloved series.  What is special about this one is that he is aging, and beginning to think that the insane and dangerous life he leads, with his beautiful and equally deadly wife, Angeline, is getting to be a bit much.  Retirement seems like the thing to do, as soon as he finishes up this adventure.  He does briefly join the circus as a magician, as he tries to find out who is committing a series of bank robberies on various planets.  The whole family gets in on this one, with their twin boys taking up much more of the slack than in previous adventures.  Only one more book in the series remains to be read.  Then I shall have to start them over.

I am hooked on Kenneth Bulmer's late 18th C early 19th C Fox series.  Number 4 is called Siege, and is a complete historical look at the great battle of Aden, Arabs and British against the ground forces and navy of Napoleon.  We get a first hand view of the action and intrigue from the perspective of Mr. Fox, an officer in the British navy.  He and his men happen to become embroiled in the great siege, though Bulmer follows all details of the events very closely to what actually happened.  A great read, as I continue to learn some obscure history from these authors.

Ironhead, a collection of stories by E C Tubb from the 1950s, was first published in 2018 for Kindle.  There are five stories, the best of which is "Iron Head", about a lowly man who looks after cattle.  40 pages later he is the top leader of the joint planets.  An amusing story with a great last line, this could have taken up a series of four or five huge books by lesser writers (I think of the endless prequels and sequels to Dune written by Herbert's kin).  No need, since someone like Tubb can say it all in a novelette!  "Memories Are Important"--What would happen if a person lost all access and connection to every one of his/her memories?  If they only lived in the moment, in the "now".  A fun but scary question, which is answered by Tubb in this engaging what-if story.  It also has a very unique answer to the "escape from the locked room" trope used by so many mystery story writers.  Two of the other three stories are also of high quality and fun to read.

Jack Williamson hits yet another home run with Terraforming Earth, a SF novel from 2001 that is written on a scale obviously influenced by Olaf Stapledon.  This is a truly great SF novel, one that should be read by all fans of the very best of the older stuff.  The action takes place on a moon base, and on Earth, but through many generations and centuries.  Divided into 5 sections, it was originally published that way.  Highly recommended, and easy to read.

Cover of the month, by Stephan Martiniere.

Michael Moorcock's The Warlord of the Air was originally written in 1971, but reworked for this 1993 edition, which contains 3 stories starring Oswald Bastable (a minor character from a story by E Nesbit).  In this story, he carried into the future, an alternate 1973 in which steam power and airships still reign supreme, and the world ha been without war for nearly a century.  However, there is a catch; colonialism is still going strong, and native inhabitants are still being subdued and ruled by Britain and the other colonial powers.  An interesting look at an alternate future, one that Bastable finds quite baffling.  A good story, and I am looking forward the other two.

The first segment of my reading month concluded with Barry Malzberg's The Cross of Fire, one of his finest novels.  From 1982 we watch as Harold Thwaite of Denmark is undergoing an administered hypnotic procedure, in which he is able to step into the shoes (sandals) of historic religious figures.  The year is 2219.  The problem with Harold is that he has a martyr complex, and when it is time to come out of his trances it becomes more and more difficult.  Eventually he refuses to come out, wishing to remain, be crucified, and to rise again a few days later.  Besides scenes of Jesus with the apostles, and Jesus with Mary Magdalene, and Jesus with Lazarus, we also have Harold as God, disputing and wrestling with Satan.  In addition there are scenes with Moses and Aaron, including the parting of the Red Sea, scenes with the suffering of Job, scenes of his being the Lubavitcher Rabbi (an old testament judge), and various conversations with his wife, Edna, back in real time.  The book is totally fascinating, and of course very sacrilegious.  It is often quite funny, as we get a future man's version of some of the great men of the Bible.  But as the book goes on, and it becomes more and more obvious that Harold is deluding himself into believing everything that happens to him, I begin to get reminded of present day fanatics.  Not so much the religious ones, but more like the ones who deny certain events every happened, such as the Sandy Hook massacre, or Trump's inability to come to terms with his election loss.  to him, the only way he could ever lose is if the other side cheated.  Reality holds no hope for such people, and Harold is similarly doomed.  This is one of Malzberg's finest books, and would pair nicely with a reading of Moorcock's Behold The Man, though they have very little in common.  Recommended.

I read four books off the shelf last month, though really only one came from a real shelf.  The rest came from my Kindle shelf, which is now thousands of books.  Tony Hillerman's Landscape is a work of non-fiction, pairing each of Tony's Navajo mystery novels with photographs of where the action takes place.  The book was begun during Tony's later years, but he died long before it was completed.  His daughter Anne took up the torch.  She writes a long intro, as well as gives a description of each of the novels, showing the original cover.  Tony provides his thoughts on each volume.  The photos are stunning, and the book is a must for fans of Hillerman.  Since his death, Anne is now writing similar mysteries, but focusing more on a female Navajo officer, one who played smaller roles in her father's books.

Next, I had the great pleasure of reading Lord Dunsany's 2nd book of tales featuring Jorkens, called Jorkens Remembers Africa, from 1934.  These 21 tales are among the most imaginative and humorous tales of fiction and fantasy ever written, and are often ignored by Dunsany fans.  I never had access to them before, but I now have all of Dunsany's writing on Kindle, thanks to Delphi publishing.  While all the stories are fun, particularly notable are the following: The Lost Romance; The Escape From The Valley; Ozymandias (the best!!!); In The Garden of Memories.  A real treasure chest of short tales of the imagination of a genius.

 

The cover to my Kindle version of stories, lasting 300 pages.  

The unicorn story is one of the best! 

Next came the first novel by Anna Katherine Green, a mystery writer who inspired Doyle and many others, including Agatha Christie.  The Leavenworth Case is from 1878, and while not a truly great detective novel, it was one of the earliest published by a woman.  Though American and set in New York and upstate, it is a thoroughly Victorian novel.  As soon as the reader realizes that neither of two beautiful women, cousins, could possibly have been the murderer, the rest is academic.  Even though all evidence points to one of the women especially, it just was not fitting nor acceptable for a woman to commit such a crime.  Besides the original murder that gets the whole case going, there is only one other murder, something for which I was grateful.  Too many contemporary novels of this type never know when to stop with the killings.  I liked the police inspector, who will feature in other novels by Green.  In an odd twist, he has rheumatism quite badly.  Well worth a read for mystery fans who want to find the source of such things.

Near the end of a month, if I only have a day or two remaining before I need to restart my Avon/Equinox, I turn to L Frank Baum.  I read his 4th Oz book, from 1908.  Called Dorothy and The Wizard In Oz, it begins with an earthquake, and Dorothy, Zeb (a young boy), her kitten, and an old horse, falling into a crack and ending up in a strange country of plant people.  This is yet another amazing adventure, brought into being by the author because of all the children who kept writing to him for more more more.  Luckily for all of us, he complied. The book is great fun!

Cover and interior art by John R Neill. 

 

Mapman Mike

 

Catching Up

...we now return to our regular programming.

The first part of June, with one or two exceptions, was seasonal and even a bit on the cooler side.  But not the 2nd half.  We have already endured many days of temps that go far beyond "above average."  Not only that, but it has been very dry, and will continue so until at least Friday.  I cut the grass yesterday for the first time in two weeks, on the slight chance of predicted rain.  No rain, but the grass is cut.

Later today I am awaiting the passage of the CSL Laurentien, one of five ships I watch on a regular basis.  This will be her 7th upstream pass, heading for Thunder Bay from Quebec City.  Back and forth all summer.  Quite a workhorse.  Meanwhile, Federal Bering, which was in Windsor a few weeks ago (likely picking up salt), was then off to Scotland, and is now in Ostend.  The Federal Cedar, which spent the winter in and around South American and Mexico, is on its way to Montreal, and will hopefully take a swing up our way in the upper Great Lakes.

We are nowhere with repairs to our garage foundation.  We simply cannot find anyone interested to come and fix it.  We basically need a foundation mason, but apparently they are all busy.  Sigh.  We ourselves are assembling and putting up railings this week on the new staircase, however.  The main job is to drill 16 holes into the new cement.  We are purchasing a new drill for that job.  Pictures to follow.

In film news, we have watched three interesting documentaries lately, all of them excellent and very well presented.  We have had to subscribe to AMC+ for two months in order to watch a new series they are presenting (see below), but they also have several other good things to watch.  One of them is Jodorowsky's Dune, from 2013.  Featuring much of the concept art that was created, and nearly endless conversations with the man himself, this pre-Star Wars idea was simply way too ahead of its time.  There can be no doubt that it would have been a terrific and awe-inspiring picture had it been made.  In the end it needed 5 more million dollars, which were nowhere to be found.  Definitely a fascinating way to spend a few hours!

Now streaming on AMC+.

Another good doc showing on AMC is Lovecraft: Fear of the Unknown.  Dating from 2008-09, this one is incredibly well researched, and features interviews with Guillermo Del Toro, Neil Gaiman, John Carpenter, Caitlan Kiernan, and others.  Lavishly illustrated with historical photos and art inspired by his works, this is a must-see film for fans of horror fiction.

Now streaming on AMC+. 

A few weeks ago we watched Margin, a simple film about a journey up the Amazon on a passenger ship, directed by Maya Da-Rin.  Criterion also has her film called Land, from 2009, about a city that shares a border with Peru, Colombia, and Brazil, far up the Amazon River.  She spends time in this far off city, getting in fairly deeply with some of its citizens, including some Indigenous people who have had to make major adjustments to their lives in order to survive. Well worth seeing, her work is a form of visual anthropology.

Showing until June 30th on Criterion.   

Some other films we have seen lately (Criterion) include One Day In The Rainy Season, an Indian film from 1971 directed by Mani Kaul.  Based on a play by Mohan Rakeesh, the plot concerns a young village woman who gives up her hold on her lover so he can go to court and become a famous writer.  The play has very few characters, and is entirely set within a small and very basic hut in a small village. The acting is carried out in unemotional speech, giving a timeless quality to the b & w proceedings, almost as if the words were spoken by dead people, rather than ones emotionally involved with the tale.  Unique and worthwhile.

Showing on Criterion until June 30th/22 

 

Fritz Lang's 1941 Man Hunt was next, starring Walter Pidgeon and George Sanders.  Pidgeon is a big game hunter who sets his rifle sights on Adolph Hitler.  Before he can pull the trigger he is caught and arrested.  Refusing to sign a confession to Nazi Sanders, he escapes back to England with the Germans in hot pursuit.  Though well acted and filmed tautly and expertly, the film left me a bit cold.  I think that the character of the hunter becoming the hunted could have been made a bit more realistic.  He seems to have virtually no skills whatsoever, so how he ever got close enough to Hitler in the first place remains a mystery.  The whole concept of the enemy in our midst, however, was very well done.

 

Showing on Criterion until June 30th. 

 

Lone Wolf and Cub: Baby Cart In the Land of Demons, and Black Belt Jones, from 1973 and 1974 respectively, make a good double feature of action packed mayhem.  While Lone Wolf slaughters the enemy with his trusty blade, Jones uses karate to demolish his enemies.  And they both dispose of a lot of enemies.  It's not the kind of movie pairing one might think of, but it works! Both are streaming on Criterion.

Streaming on Criterion. 

 

Streaming on Criterion until June 30th. 

 

In addition to films, we are currently involved in several series, including two sets of lecture courses on Wondrium.  We only have one left in the SF literature series, and still several more on the archeology of North America.  As one of those courses finish, we will begin a new one.

 

On Prime we are now well into the 2nd season of Undone, an animated fantasy series that is quite complex and easily one of the better fantasy screen adventures ever undertaken.  It is aimed at adults, and follows the adventures of a family of four as they unravel their past, present, and future selves.  Needless to say the plot is difficult to explain, but the acting, writing, and special effects are truly inspired.  Episodes are less than 30' each, but pack an awful lot into that time.  Highly recommended.  There are 8 episodes in each season.

Seasons 1 &2 are showing on Prime. 

 

The reason we subscribed to AMC+ was to watch their new series called Dark Winds. The first season has 6 one hour episodes.  It is so well done that a second season will be presented next year.  It features Joe Leaphorn and Jim Chee, Navajo police officers from Tony Hillerman's acclaimed detective series, largely set in Northwest new Mexico and Northeast Arizona.  So far we have seen three episodes, and the fourth is set for tonight.  We both love the Hillerman books (17 or 18 of them before he died, with the series now taken over by daughter Anne, who was an executive producer for the TV series), and have seen two or three earlier films based on the books.  But this series has a budget, and the production values are near to perfect.  The casting seems enlightened, especially Leaphorn. We are devouring this series!  We got my dad interested in the books a long time ago, and he should be able to watch this series on his AMC regular channel.

 

Leaphorn and Chee take on the bad guys!  Great stuff! 

 

As a bonus, we also found an 8 part series on AMC called Name of the Rose.  It follows Ecco's book much more closely than the earlier film ever did, and once again the TV production values are superb and nearly overwhelming.  It may seem odd to find John Turturro playing the lead role of the detective monk, but so far (2 episodes in), he is unbelievably good.  I have never seen medieval atmosphere so authentically depicted on the screen.  We have certainly hit gold this month.  And waiting in the wings is a 2009 version of The Prisoner, a six episode series that might prove interesting.

 

A 2019 8 part series showing on AMC. 

 

I will return with more news in a day or two.  And it close to the time when I summarize my month's reading.  Please return soon.

 

Mapman Mike

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Memories of Patti, Part 2

Deb had her first check up yesterday with her oral surgeon.  Things are going well, but she will still have a mouthful of stitches for three more weeks, when she returns to have them removed.  Because her extraction left a gaping hole to her sinus (right side), the surgery was more complicated than usual.  Her face has run the gamut of colours, now settling in to a kind of yellow.  The swelling is down, but she can't laugh or cough or sneeze or use straws or a bunch of other things for a long time yet.  But she is back to work on her film projects.

Here is a photo of the Summer Solstice sunset from last Tuesday.  We walked across the road and visited the tiny park on the Detroit River.  The sun is setting over Michigan.

Solstice sunset, from near our home.

Today I finish up my Patti memoirs....

Part 2: A Trip to Cleveland (to Bid Adieu)

Campaign for Cleveland. This is a good time to mention my fund raising campaign, designed to get me to Cleveland to see Patti off season. Overall, it didn’t go very well. The first year after our parting, I cut a small slot in an old cardboard jigsaw puzzle box. I taped a hand lettered sign to it, and it became my piggy bank to save up for transportation money. The sign simply read “Campaign for Cleveland.” Every visitor to our house in those days was asked to contribute any spare change they might be willing to part with. I embarrassed my mother several times that year, barging in with my box jingling asking for donations during tea parties. After nearly a year of saving, I had just over $14, barely enough to get me one way to Toronto. While that scheme never bore fruit, I was destined to visit Cleveland eventually. Please read on.

Two Major Developments. My life took two sharp turns in the 1971/72 school year. On November 10^th, out of a clear blue sky, I decided I wanted to learn how to play piano. So I did. A younger female cousin, who was studying piano at the time, became my first teacher. We had no piano, so I became dependent on their piano for practice. It was about a 35 minute walk each way between our houses, and even during Sudbury winters I walked there and back each day, and I practiced like a demon for 4-6 hours. I would eventually gain enough music background at Sudbury’s community college to go on and study at university (Windsor, and later Detroit). Playing and performing on piano is still one of my major interests, and continues to this day.

Sudbury winters are no joke!  Our house on Maple Street, where I grew up in my teen years.  Patti visited a few times (in summer!), when we were able to get together in Sudbury for a day.

The second major development that school year was meeting Deb, in late spring 1972. I was a senior and she was a freshman, so there was a considerable age difference. I had several girlfriends during high school, with some relationships lasting a month or two, and some less than a week. At present I was seeing no one. My friend Bill and I would sit outside the school during our spare period, reading, doing homework, or just lying in the shade. A girls’ gym class happened to be outside during our spare period, and I began noticing a fetching red-haired maiden at play. One day, gathering all my courage, I went to her locker after school and asked if I could walk her home. Little did I realize that my entire future hinged upon her reply. How different things might have been if she had said no.  But my request was accepted, and I escorted Deborah to her house after school. To my great surprise and disappointment, she lived about two minutes walk from school! Needless to say, not much was accomplished on that first encounter. But we began seeing one another during lunch hours, and things progressed slowly but steadily.

Through our letters, Patti knew about Deb before most of my Sudbury friends and close family. In one of my letters I compared myself to Charlie Brown, finally gathering up enough courage to ask out the little redheaded girl. With the senior prom coming up, I had already asked a good friend from my Gr. 12 home room class (Sharon McGuinness) to go with me, weeks before I had even met Deb. As the prom got nearer, I thought I was in trouble. But Patti’s advice was to stay the course. She said that if Deb really liked me, she would understand the situation. And she did. Patti was often in the role of a “Dear Abby” to me in my teenage years. Sharon and I had fun at the prom, and afterwards she knew that I was returning full time to Deb.

Deb at the Detroit Institute of Arts.  She would have been about 20 here, after we had married and moved to Windsor to attend university.

Spending nearly every day with a girl is very different from spending two weeks each summer. If I had seen Patti every day (or at least a lot more often), there would have been no other girl for me. Patti was much stronger than me when it came to our two week per year relationship.  Though allowed to date, I think falling in love with someone else was taboo. But it soon became evident, as that year and the next one went on, that Deb was going to be the love of my life. When it comes to affairs of the heart, there is seldom logic and clear-minded thinking involved. I knew I loved Deb, and it seemed to be reciprocated. And so I wrote often to Patti, hoping to convince her of my leanings. I believe she sort of got the idea, but at the same time didn’t.  She figured that because Deb was so young, things wouldn't continue much longer.  But Deb was a very mature person, even at 15 when I met her.  Anyway, in the summer of 1973, I packed a bag, dipped into my meager savings, and purchased a bus ticket to Windsor, where Jimmy was studying law. Deb knew where I was headed and why.

From Windsor I was on my own. Tunnel bus to Detroit. A few spare hours to wander around downtown, and then board a Greyhound bus. I arrived at the downtown bus depot in Cleveland later that day. I believe I was the only white person on the bus, a new experience for me. Some first impressions on arriving at Edgedale Road that afternoon: the Anderson home was large and suburban, two stories, and despite having six people living there, there was a spare room for me (I wonder if someone doubled up that week to give me the room)! The front and back yards were enormous, with the backyard hemmed in on two sides by the densest deciduous forest I had ever seen. And the cicadas!! I had never experienced such a deafening cacophony.

Though I wanted to get down to business right away, we were never really alone, except when Patti was driving us somewhere. I was not going to tell her my wish for leaving her and going steady with Deb while she was driving us on the freeway. Here are some of my Cleveland visit memories.

Beechwood Mall. This was the hugest mall I had ever seen. We both got corralled into a market research event, agreeing to take part in what we thought would be an easy $5 each for our time. Patti and I, along with about ten other suckers, were herded into a tent within the mall hallway, and subjected to watching commercials, slide shows, and listening to various people talk for about an hour, all concerning underarm deodorant. We had to write paragraphs, too! I was spotted early on as a visiting alien, when the woman in charge asked me if I was from England, due to our weird Canadian/British way of spelling certain words. We eventually were released from our civic duty with two crisp five dollar bills, some deodorant, and some coupons for more of the same. We weren’t on any drugs, but the experience was a hallucinatory one for both of us! We couldn’t stop laughing afterwards.

Ohio State Fair. I would have been happy just to have stayed home and talked things over with Patti, but Mrs. Anderson suggested we go to Columbus for the state fair. Off we went in the station wagon, Patti, Joanne, Leonard, and I’m pretty certain Michele, too. I remember huge crowds, and a day so hot I was certain that we would all melt. Once again I had no time to be alone with Patti, and my time was running out.

On my last day of visiting I got to meet some of Patti’s friends. One of her girlfriends had a piano, so we went there and I practiced a bit and played some pieces for Patti (Level Five in those days). I so wish she could hear me play again these days. In her letters to me she often talked about one or two boys that were really hooked on her (big surprise, not a difficult thing to happen at all). She liked them as friends, but did not want to date them seriously. I met one of them, and he was totally nuts about Patti. I was very happy to see this, and fervently hoped he could someday win her over.

I finally got to talk to Patti about Deb, and what was going on with us. We agreed to break off, at least for a time, and see how things would go. But I knew how things were going. I told her about her friend (John??) who really loved her, but she just laughed, saying nothing. When I eventually got back to Sudbury, I wrote her a final letter, asking her to keep in touch. I got one very short reply, and that was it. She never tried to contact me again.

Deb and I were married in the summer of 1976, and moved to Windsor for university. We have lived in the area ever since. In the summer of 1977, Deb had major knee surgery, and was confined within an ankle to hip cast all summer. I had a summer job working on a tugboat on the Detroit River. But we still headed to Penage for a short visit in August before school resumed. We took a boat ride, passing Ben Isle. People were swimming, and hanging out on the dock, so we pulled in to say hi. Patti was there, looking as beautiful as she ever had, just out of the water. She was surprised to see us, but seemed happy about it. Deb hauled herself out of the boat, with assistance, and someone found a comfortable chair for her, and we spent a pleasant hour talking together. Patti joked with us, and Deb said how envious she was of people who could jump into the lake (not possible for her that summer). This was the first and only time that Patti and Deb met one another, and marked the very last time I would ever see Patti.

Deb and her parents, looking a wee bit Irish, at our Lake Penage wedding in 1976.

In the autumn of 1979 Deb and I went to Cleveland, to visit the art museum (Deb was a fine arts major) and the Dali Museum (since moved to Florida). We ended up at Beechwood Mall for lunch, which was very close to the Dali collection at that time. I phoned Patti to see if she could meet us for lunch! But alas, she had just had some kind of surgery (minor, she said), had just got home, and was still groggy. She wanted us to visit her at home in Pepper Pike, but I told her she needed to rest, and that we would stop in another time. That was the last time I spoke with Patti.

I had always hoped to reconnect, ideally sitting out on the dock at Ben Isle and catching up on news with one another. I know absolutely nothing about Patti’s life after that last phone call, though I think I did call her once again one time, but there was no answer. Life for Deb and I got busy. Teaching school, attending university summer school for many years, travelling, etc.   I have no photo of Patti, so if anyone can get one to me, please get in touch! She never liked it when I took her photo, so I tended not to.  And if anyone wants to chat about Patti and her life, please do contact me via message attached to this blog.

What brought on this latest attempt to contact Leonard and Patti? I have thoroughly searched the internet and Facebook for Leonard, Joanne, or Patti, or Michele, on and off over the years, without any luck. I had really given up, almost. Then sometime in early May of this year I had a very vivid dream about Mr. Anderson! I have never dreamed about him before, but it stuck with me the next day and the next. Mr. Anderson seldom stood still; he was always moving about and doing something purposeful. So in the dream, he was fixing something or other, fiddling with something, and talking to me. But I couldn’t hear him very well, so I never found out what he was saying to me. So  I made yet another effort to find Leonard Jr. Voila! This time Google showed me that he was on Facebook, but that he hadn’t posted in over a year. I can but try! Then I saw a photo on his wall of his daughter, N----. I was suddenly staring into the face of Patti! I was able to message N, and she responded, putting me in contact with her dad. She also passed on the news of Patti’s death 8 years ago, thus setting off my emotions, and suddenly unlocking long sealed off memories. I want to sincerely thank her for being so kind to me.

Some things about Patti's obit sadden me, such as there being no one mentioned in her life other than her family.  I suspect that she did not marry, or even have a serious partner in life.  Also, no cause of death is mentioned, nor donations to a particular charity.  And there are only two lines about Patti herself.  She liked to fish and be outdoors, and she was a Eucharist minister at her church.  That's not saying much for 60 years of life.  It seems as if the obit might have been written hurriedly, amid great grief.  Perhaps certain mysteries are left unsolved.  Though I still would love to know more about her, I still hope to hear from her brother, Leonard.  Patti was a major part of my teen years, and though the memories of those days were seemingly locked away somewhere inside my head, out they came on news of her passing.  And I'm glad those memories came out to say hi.  Though I will never meet Patti again, I will often think of her and her family, as well as the magical camp on Ben Isle.  It was once the summer home of the Princess of Pepper Pike.

Mapman Mike

 

Memories of Patti, Part 1

 Wishing everyone a Happy Summer Solstice!  We began the day with some blueberry corn mush, a traditional Native dish that is easy to make and delicious!  We always have this on special ceremonial days.  We will make corn bread later in the week, when Deb can chew properly once again.  She continues to heal well from her oral surgery last Thursday, but her face is still a bit swollen, and multi-colored.  The mush went down well for her.  During breakfast we played the Songs of the Zuni Pueblo CD.  We wish we could be in New Mexico today, but we are in spirit.  Later today we will switch out our major wall art, replacing the Spring material with our Summer paintings.  It is supposed to be sunny all day today, but very warm, with highs in the high 90s (35+ C).  

I managed some piano practice this morning.  I must say that a few of those pieces have taken on extra depth and meaning since news of Patti's death reached me last week.  Especially the Mendelssohn Song Without Words (Op. 102, #4), and the Chopin Nocturne (Op. 37, #1).  Since Saturday, amidst many tears, I wrote down a few memories I have of being with Patti.  So it seems fitting that on the first day of Summer I publish a few of them here.  She was my summer girl friend for most of my teen years (14-18), when we saw one another at Lake Penage for two weeks each August.  We were born the same year, 9 days apart.  First I will present the slender obit I found for her on-line, followed by the first part of my own memories.  I hope you take the time to read them, and feel free to comment or contact me if you knew Patti.  I would love to hear anything about her after we parted.

Patricia Lee Anderson

September 13, 1953 - August 5, 2014

Patricia Anderson,  Age 60, of Newbury died Aug. 5, 2014 at her home. Born Sept. 13, 1953 in Cleveland to Leonard and Josephine (nee: Bonach) Anderson, she had been a longtime area resident. Pat enjoyed fishing and being outdoors. She also served as a Eucharistic Minister at St. Helen Catholic Church. Survivors include her siblings Joanne (Joseph) Orichella of Newbury, Leonard of Sagamore Hills and Michele (Louis) Wagner of Massillon; 8 nieces and nephews and 1 great-nephew. She was preceded in death by her parents. FUNERAL MASS will be at 11:30 a.m Tuesday, August 12, 2014 at St. Helen Catholic Church, 12060 Kinsman Road, Newbury. Burial will follow at All Souls Cemetery. VISITATION: 10-11:00 am on Tuesday at the Burr Funeral Home, 116 South ST. (On Rt. 44, 500’ south of Rt. 6/Chardon Square) Chardon, OH. 

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Part 1: Meeting Patti and Her Family

The Picnic. Meeting Patti was a world changing event for me. As near as I remember, it was the summer of 1968, Sunday, August 4th, or Monday August 5th. We were both 14 years old, and would be turning 15 in one month, reentering high school as a sophomore (me--I had to repeat Gr. 9 because of poor grades) and Junior (Patti). Every August during the first weekend, the Lake Penage (Ontario) Campers Association would hold its annual picnic. For me it was to be the picnic with a difference. The Fielding family use to mine quartz on the lake, and they owned a large barge, or scow, to transport the rock to a crusher. During the August picnic day, it became a very slow way of arriving at the picnic, held far down the lake in those days. I don’t know why I chose to ride the scow that day, along with my Uncle Jimmy and cousin Ricky, and around 25 or so other riders. But there were two girls with long blonde hair on the scow as we clambered aboard, one about my age and another one, obviously her sister, a few years older.

I was always shy with girls through high school, and had difficulty meeting them without undergoing a lot of stress. So for the two hour ride to the picnic, I never said a word to the girl I was dying to meet. However, she glanced my way enough times, and I her way, to know that I should introduce myself. It took me about halfway through the all day picnic to do so, and we chatted a bit. The rest of her family had taken the much faster family speed boat to the picnic. I had planned to take the fast way home, too, with my family, but when I heard that Patti (I knew her name!) would take the scow back, my mind was made up to do the same.

We were tired and sunburned on that return journey, but we never stopped talking all the way back to the crusher dock, where our families would retrieve us. I learned she was from Ohio, though I already guessed from her speech that she was American. Americans were common on Penage, coming up north to fish and hunt, and enjoy the peaceful wilderness and clean lake water. But I had never met an American before. I was now a man of the world! But when she said that she was from Pepper Pike, Ohio, I knew I had entered a realm of strange and other-worldly fantasy, like many of the books I read at that time. Pepper Pike? Was there really a place called that? There was, she told me, and it was near Cleveland. Cleveland was a city I knew about, as they had a baseball team. But to me it was pretty exotic stuff.

I asked her if they had unicorns in Pepper Pike. I had heard her laugh a few times that day, but she really laughed a lot when I asked her that (later I would teasingly call her Princess Patti from Pepper Pike; she would then accuse me of making fun of her). Anyway, that is how I met Patti. Soon a followup meeting was planned. That was no easy task. Our camp was on the mainland, while she was on an island (good planning, Mr. Anderson—three beautiful daughters are much safer from roving Canadian boys if they are on an island). To visit her I depended on Uncle Jimmy to transport me, and when she came to visit me it was Mr. Anderson who became her taxi driver (Jimmy was more like an older brother to me, and even lived with us for a time; he was fated to die in a car wreck near Parry Sound in 1978, a tragedy that shook our family for years).

Right away we knew that our relationship had a big problem. Patti came north for two weeks each year. My family did not seem like they would wish to spend two weeks a year in Cleveland, though I did try to persuade them often enough. So we thought that we wouldn’t get too serious with each other. But we did. Our first break up that summer was a very bad time for both of us. When one is 14, waiting 50 weeks to see your girlfriend/boyfriend again is a very excruciating experience, I can tell you. It seemed like an entire lifetime. And we did it for four years, at least.

A photo of me in Sudbury, around the age when I first met Patti.  I have no photo of Patti at present.  

 

 

Thus began a very active letter writing program. In those days, a letter from Sudbury to Cleveland would easily arrive in a week, and vice versa. Over the length of our years’ long relationship, that amounted to a lot of letters. Sadly, I have nary a one to my name now.

We both agreed that it was fine to see other people (girls for me, boys for Patti), though I swore I never would. But by the time I was halfway through my 15^th year I was girl crazy. Nothing was held back in our letters. She learned of any girl I was dating, and I learned about her friends. One very cool thing she did for me was get me an honorary membership to the Chagrin Falls Astronomy Club. I had a telescope and used it a lot at night at Penage, but there were no clubs in Sudbury. One of Patti’s friends from high school was in the Chagrin Falls club, and I wrote back and forth to him a lot, and received club newsletters. That club is still going strong, and I feel someday that I should go down and give a talk about observing from northern latitudes, and my time as a member.

The Card Game. Yes, the card game. There were lots of evening and rainy day card games back then, and everyone played cards. On my earliest visits to Ben Isle, we played cards in the screened veranda up at the camp. Usually it was me, Patti, Joanne (the older sister from the picnic scow ride), Leonard (her only brother), Michele (little sister), and my driver, Jimmy, who was six years older than me (I think he liked Joanne for a time). Mr. and Mrs. Anderson would sit inside the main camp while we kids talked and played cards out front. Well, it was my third or fourth visit to the island, and getting close to the time when Patti and family would be leaving for home. As I said, I was shy with girls. I hadn’t even kissed her, but it’s also true that we were seldom left alone. Patti made the first bold move between us. Patti was sitting opposite me at a large and long table, with the other people mentioned sitting around us. Suddenly I felt someone playing footsie with me. I will say right now that Patti could keep a poker face when she wanted to. It was a very interesting evening, as I looked closely at everyone playing cards that night. Michele was too short to reach me, and far too young anyway. Leonard was beside me, but he didn’t look the type. Jimmy sat on my other side, and he was ruled out for the same reason as Leonard. Joanne was opposite me, but further away beside Patti, and, like Michele, was just too far away. That left only one suspect. Patti looked the most innocent of them all. As the card game continued, she managed to remove my socks with her feet, with nobody noticing anything! Afterwards, as Jimmy and I were preparing to leave later that night, I whispered to Patti, “I hope those were your feet under the table.” She looked straight at me and said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Five seconds later, when I was starting to believe her, she folded nearly in half and burst into an almost silent laughter. I thought she would fall in the lake. No one else knew what was going on, and until this moment no one ever has.

Returns. Awaiting Patti’s annual return to Penage was pure agony. I counted down the weeks. 48 more weeks to Patti. 32 more weeks till Patti. 20 more weeks. 8 more weeks. 2 weeks (the longest stretch of them all by far). And finally, The Return. But a new complication had arisen. I had summer jobs, and during the week could only come out to Penage once or twice. I would be exhausted. Leave Sudbury after work. Drive to Penage (about 50 minutes). Borrow a boat to get to Ben Isle. Visit for maybe 90 minutes. Back to my camp to sleep. Up early and back to work in Sudbury next day. Weekends we spent together, but there was never enough time. Looking back from today’s perspective, I don’t know how we managed. I use to have long and frustrating dreams of trying to reach Patti, either by phone or in person, and the dream would throw continuous blockades at me, so that we would never get together. Could have been premonitions of our future selves.

My family's camp on Penage, where Patti visited many times.

 

Swimming off our dock, in the good old summer time.

 

We would always first meet up again at the annual picnic, taking several hours to get reacquainted, and then happily carry on from there. It became quite the ritual. We never had to catch up on news, as our letter writing did that for us.

One time Patti took me to her crying rock, on Ben Isle. I had shown her several lookout rocks near our camp, and one day she took me by the hand and led me across the island to the far shore. There sat a little rock, perfect for one person to sit upon, right beside the lake. I asked her what she cried about there, and she would just answer, “Oh, usually no particular reason.” By this time I was a bit better acquainted with teenage girls, and so I pressed her no farther.

The Family. I don’t think that I had ever met a family as wonderful as the Andersons; Mom, Dad, and 4 kids. Beginning with Patti, she was one of the sweetest, kindest, most gentle persons I have ever met (and gorgeous, too!). And often she was very funny. She would talk very fast sometimes, at other times she would talk almost like a ventriloquist, hardly moving her lips and enunciating poorly.  She would gently tease her brother and younger sister occasionally, but nothing harsh.  Mr. and Mrs. Anderson seemed like super parents. I never heard a voice raised, but the kids listened and obeyed. They both spoke directly but calmly. They were generous to me, and I shared many meals at Ben Isle. They never chased me away, or said that I should see a bit less of Patti. They never interfered at all, and many times they dropped Patti off at our camp, trusting my parents that Patti would be well looked after (she was). Mr. Anderson knew the lake well, and we enjoyed many summer boat rides with him, at speed, through waters filled with shoals where I normally feared to tread.

One time Patti and I, at my insistence, asked to take out Mr. Anderson’s brand new canoe for a quick paddle around a nearby island. Halfway around the island the wind had picked up, and it was hard to paddle. No problem; the island was very slender at one point, so I suggested we portage the canoe across the island, and return from the other side with the wind at our backs. Well, it proved to be a harder portage than this Canadian canoeist had planned. By the time we were done, the new canoe looked like it had been through every portage in Ontario. It was scratched, had some small dents, and there was paint missing in places. Patti was aghast. So was I, but I had to keep calm. We had two choices. We could paddle out into the wilderness, never to return. We could have built a log cabin, or perhaps found an old one somewhere to fix up, and live off the land. That was the choice Patti would have preferred at the time. She did not want her dad to see the canoe. Our only alternative was to head back to Ben Isle and face the music. The best approach we could come up with was to attempt to put the canoe back without anyone seeing us. However, Mr. Anderson was on the dock, either fishing or getting his equipment in order. When he saw the canoe, I thought he would go through the roof. I had expected a good and harsh lecture. Instead, once he saw the damage he asked what had happened. We told him, he shook his head, and that was it. Whew. Things may have been said to Patti afterwards (such as something about her fool of a boyfriend), but I never heard another word about it. The canoe was now officially baptized, at any rate.

Later, when Patti and I would wish to be alone on the veranda at night, Mrs. Anderson would call Leonard and Michele to bed at an appropriate time, allowing us our privacy. Michele was a total cutie, but I remember so little of her. A bundle of energy, always seemed to be smiling (except when called to bed; but she was obedient, and never had to be called twice), she would scrutinize Patti and I very closely when we were together. Leonard was always a great guy, into all manner of things mechanical. I remember the first time he sped by our camp in his little speedboat. My younger brother immediately liked Leonard after that. Leonard never pestered us, and he seemed like a calm person, well spoken, and very quiet. Later in my relationship with Patti, he was concerned about the Vietnam war, and whether he would be drafted when he was 18. We were all worried. Joanne was similar in many ways, never bothering us, and also calm and quiet. And very intelligent, and very artistic. I remember first seeing some of her sketches, staring at them in disbelief. I hope she still uses those skills today. But these are only fleeting glimpses from a teenage boy that had eyes only for Patti. Everything else was seen as through a haze.

The Anderson Family Station Wagon. Back then, but more so even today, I try to picture the family packing the station wagon in Pepper Pike for their annual ride to Lake Penage, over 500 miles away, with all the things they would need for their two or three week vacation. Six people added in, and then, near Sudbury, the required groceries fitting in there somewhere, too. A late night arrival at the marina. Unloading the station wagon, and loading the boat. Two trips to Ben Isle likely. Unloading the boat, and carrying everything up the hill to the camp. Mr. Anderson must have really loved Penage (originally it was Lake Panache, because of the incredible leaf colours of autumn).

These are some of the memories I have of the Patti years on Lake Penage. The last summer we spent time alone together was 1972. In the next segment, I will talk about my trip to Cleveland in early summer of 1973, and why I made the journey.

Mapman Mike

 

 

A Lost Friend Finally Found

Deb had oral surgery last Thursday, lasting about 45 minutes.  As expected, when the tooth was extracted it left a gaping hole directly into her sinus.  So that had to be filled.  She is still swollen, and black and blue.  It looks like she lost a boxing match to Muhammad Ali.  Improvement is slow but sure.  Still mostly liquids and very soft food.  She is getting through it.

On the same day as Deb's surgery I received news that a very dear former girlfriend had been dead since August 2014.  I don't know exactly why, but the news devastated me.  I found out from her niece, the first person related to Patti I have been able to contact in over 50 years.  I always hoped we could get together again for a chat and some catching up, and had searched for Patti or her brother and two sisters on-line for many years.  I am now in contact with her oldest sister, and hoping to learn a bit more about her death at 60 years.  The news released a floodgate of memories that continue to wash over me, which had been locked away for so many years.  I have began writing some of them down, and my next few blogs will be devoted to Patti.  The last time I saw Patti was in the summer of 1977, when Deb and I stopped off for a visit at her family camp on Lake Penage.  I spoke with her briefly on the phone about a year later, when Deb and I visited Cleveland (Patti was from Ohio).  And that was it.  We got very busy with university and teaching.  We lost contact, as Deb and I didn't even go to the lake much anymore, travelling instead to Europe or the American Southwest on our vacations.  I finally found Joaane on FB, but  I spotted a photo of her brother's grown and married daughter, a nearly dead-ringer for Patti, and contacted her.  She was very sweet to me, and put me in touch with her dad, Patti's brother.  He never responded, but Joanne did.  More to come soon.

Mapman Mike 

An Engaging Vampire Film

Welcome back to the Homestead.  Today I will talk about a print from the DIA, and a few recent films we have watched.  But first, a photo that was posted on FB by a friend.  Amusing, and better than many posts of recent vintage.

From a friend's FB post. 

In my hurry to bring you the latest news, I often make silly spelling and grammar mistakes.  Ideally, Blogger should catch them, but, alas, it doesn't.  And if my trusty proof reader (Deb) doesn't have time to read the blog, they usually don't get corrected.  But I always mean to do it correctly, and that's what counts.

Maxime Lalanne was a French artist who specialized in prints and etchings, of which the DIA has several examples.  At least one has been featured here before.  But there is something exceptional about Le Pont Des Arts et L'Institut, as can easily be seen.  For one thing, that sky is just too amazing, giving an unsettling feel to the cityscape depicted.  Also, the way he uses the lighted lamp posts and their reflections in the river is unique, and very effective.  The moonlight itself is reflected in front of the boats approaching the bridge.  And by having only two people out on a moonlit night, enjoying the bridge and view of the river all to themselves, we feel as if we are peeking into a private world, glimpsing something that normally would be beyond human perception.  A rare work, filled with a most strange beauty.

A crosshatch miracle from the DIA's print collection.  Le Pont des Arts et L'Institut, 1869, by Maxime Lalonde, French, 1827-1886.  Etching printed in black ink on tissue paper.  12" x 9".  Collection Detroit Institute of Arts. 

Two details of Lalonde's print. Could that be Adam and Eve (see vampire film discussion, further below)?

Turning to recent film viewing, there are three to report.  First up was Querelle.  From 1982, this was Fassbinder's final film.  From the Criterion description: Director Rainer Werner Fassbinder’s final film is a deliriously stylized tale of hothouse lust and simmering violence. Set amid an expressionistic soundstage vision of a French sea port, this daring adaptation of a novel by Jean Genet recounts the tragedy of a handsome sailor (Brad Davis) as he is drawn into a vortex of sibling rivalry, murder, and explosive sexuality. Completed just before Fassbinder’s sudden death at age thirty-seven, QUERELLE finds the director pushing his embrace of artifice and taboo-shattering depiction of queer desire to new extremes. 

The film is visually quite seductive, and feels at first a bit like watching a queer version of a Gilbert and Sullivan opera.  The action is limited to a very small area, mostly in a seaside bar owned and run by Jeanne Moreau.  In one of the low points of cinema music, she sings (twice) possibly the worst song ever written.  It is quite embarrassing.  Apparently Fassbinder does not follow the book very much, claiming it was just a third rate crime novel.  Not having read it, I can't comment on that comment.  But he does create something unique, at least stylistically and visually.  I always have difficulty with novels and films in which I feel no sympathy or empathy with the main character.  And if the main character is a murderer, and a person who takes advantage of his comrades, and a drunken sot who is also a misogynist, then I know I will have difficulty with the film.  The gay scenes are pretty tame by today's standards, but no doubt the film opened up the possibilities for the art of queer cinema.  So, what does one do with a drunken sailor?  Do not star him in a film.

Fassbinder's final film, showing on Criterion Channel. 

With the Fassbinder films now all viewed, I will have to seek out another director project.  My choice for leaving this month was called Trouble Man, from 1972.  Directed by Ivan Dixon (of Hogan's Heroes fame), this sleeper film features Robert Hooks in a Shaft type of role.  He plays a private eye out to investigate a murder when he is set up for the crime.  Mr. T, as he is called, is admired by friends and feared by foes.  The body count goes pretty high, similar to a samurai film.  Fun to watch.  

Showing till June 30th on Criterion. 

Thank you for waiting for the vampire film discussion, which tricked you into reading this blog in the first place.  Deb chose another film from the Roku Channel (ads, but not many), and it turned into a big winner.  Somehow we had missed Jim Jarmusch's 2013 film called Only Lovers Left Alive.  With mesmerizing performances by Tilda Swinton and Tom Hiddleston, they are both too perfect in their roles as nearly burned out, aging vampires.  John Hurt stars as well, in a small but key role as Christopher Marlowe.  Adam (Tom H.) lives in a run down mansion in Brush Park, Detroit, while his wife, Eve (Tilda S.) lives in an apartment in Tangier, Morocco.  They each have reliable sources for blood, and we get to see some of their life before they come back together.  This is certainly one of the best vampire pics ever put to film, with rich nocturnal atmosphere, a music soundtrack to die for, and an unhurried pace that perfectly captures their current outlook on life.  Filmed in both of those cities, the choices could not have been better.  This is a must see film, and one worth several views.

Now showing on the Roku Channel. 

A full moon celebration is coming up, and this time will feature the first of a new 5-game tournament of Middle Earth: The Wizards card game.  Happy Full Moon to all!  And next week, or course, is the Solstice, where we get to turn our clocks towards winter once again.  See you all soon.

Mapman Mike