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 her 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 in 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 still 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 and carefully. 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. 

______________________________________________________________

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, which was 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 in his boat, 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 Anderson 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 racing boat. 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 600 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).

A high school photo of Patti from her senior year.

Sent to me by her sister Joanne.

 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

 

 

 

News From The Homestead

We were getting close to a critical situation due to lack of rain, but then the skies did open.  So far this week we have have 2.4" of the stuff.  The new eaves troughs work well.  I just completed my fifth cutting of the lawns, and am fresh out of the shower.  The rose bushes are blooming insanely again this year, the 2nd year in a row.

We have had several hundred roses bloom on our two small bushes on the south side of the house.  They are fragrant, and their deep red colour is rather cheery.

Since mid April I have been having issues with my right ear again.  It cleared up with meds for a few weeks, but then returned around May 10th, and is still quite bothersome.  Hearing comes and goes, but mostly goes.  Along with the lack of hearing comes an intense feeling of pressure in that ear, which is very uncomfortable.  Just at this moment I can hear okay, but for much of the day I was totally plugged.  I keep putting off my recitals because of this; I can not safely set a date to play at this point, as it is nearly impossible to hear well enough, especially my right hand passages.

Our stairs were completed this week, a $6000.00 job.  We are still left with a partially dug up driveway, and a crumbling foundation beneath the garage.  So far no one is interested in coming out to fix it, though we had several people come out to take a look.  Deb will order a railing tomorrow, which we will install ourselves later in the week.  Speaking of later in the week, Deb gets her tooth pulled on Thursday.  So far we have paid out around $400 (there is no government insurance for dental work, and private companies charge way too much, and only cover certain things up to certain amounts).  We have between $1300-1700 yet to go.  A very expensive tooth, it could be said.

 

Two views of the new steps.  Black railing coming soon.

The driveway situation is thus.  The foundation leading in to the garage has collapsed, and needs rebuilding.
 

Another view of the driveway leading to the garage.  It was supposed to cemented along with the stairs, but the crumbling foundation was discovered once the old surface had been removed. 

In happier news, Ludwig has been outside running around a few times now.  The weather has been mostly glorious.  A major heatwave (the 3rd) is on its way, however.

Ludwig goes walkabout in the south garden. 

I'll be back with film news and a new painting from the DIA, possibly tomorrow.

Mapman Mike

Film Talk

I tend to get behind in my film reporting.  These are not designed to be reviews, but rather reminders to myself of what we have watched in the past.  They can also serve as recommendations (or not) to casual readers, who might have access to a weird film collection and availability.  Our usual source for films is Criterion channel, but we also watch a few on Roku and Prime.  It's hard to describe the pleasure we get from having access to Criterion movies.  It's like a dream come true. We can interrupt the stream at any time, and continue watching at any time.  There are no commercials.

I have five films to report on this time, the first one being Deb's film festival choice, the next two being my regular weekly choices, and the last two being Deb's regular selections.  Usually during the monthly film festival weekend, whoever gets their turn can choose up to three films, with extras if available.  Or one very long film.  Deb choice a Japanese film from 2015 called Happy Hour, directed by Ryusuke Hamaguchi.  Its running time is five hours and 17 minutes, and is a rather slowly paced film that centers itself around four women in their thirties who are friends and like to hang out together.  Two of them have friends since junior high school.  We gradually get to know each of the women quite well, as well as becoming involved in their family and love lives.  It's difficult to describe what the film is about, though lack of communication is a big part of it, especially between men and women.  It is a truly wonderful film, and well worth watching.  Be warned, however, that there are some very slow parts, such as the strange workshop the women attend, and the book reading.  But both of these parts have major roles in how the women are affected by these inclusions.  Sit back with a pot of green tea and get comfortable.  Most enjoyable.

Now showing on Criterion.  Bring a pillow and blanket. 

I continued with a woman's theme (Viridiana, Veronika Voss, Danzon, The Wonders, and The Second Mother) that seems so popular at the Homestead lately.  My main choice was The Perfect Candidate, a Saudi film from 2019 directed by Haifaa al-Mansour (WADJDA).  This is a fascinating film about a female doctor working in a small ER clinic, having to deal with poor road conditions leading to the hospital.  She wants to get the road paved, but to no avail.  She ends up running for city council in order to get the job done, which leads to all kinds of conflicts, especially with men.  There is a sub story that is nearly as interesting, about her late mother who was a singer at weddings, and her father, who still sings and performs traditional music.  The film reminds western viewers how much they have to learn about other cultures and places before any kind of understanding can take place.  Another highly watchable film, and recommended.

Now showing on Criterion. 

My going away choice this week was an odd little film from India, in 1973.  Called Duvidha, it is a simple film telling a story or legend from Rajasthan.  A ghost comes down from a tree, after falling in love with a passing bride.  When her husband leaves her at home alone while he goes off to trade for 5 years, the ghost takes his form and moves in with her.  They fall in love, but when the husband returns, all does not go well for them.  There is some lovely photography, and freeze frame is used quite a bit.  The story is very much like something one would read from The Arabian Nights tales.  I don't know where else a viewer might find this film, which leaves Criterion at the end of the month.  Perhaps on line, in a grainy version.

Leaving Criterion June 30th. 

Back to Deb's choices, and finally leaving women out of it, came Forbidden Dream, a Korean film from 2019.  It takes place in the 15th C, and loosely based on actual characters and what befell them.  One of the two main characters is a slave, an older man who has a genius for inventing.  the other character is the Emperor of the province in Korea, which is subject to Ming, China.  Through their shared love of astronomy, they become fast friends, and the inventions come non stop from the slave, now elevated to scientist 5th class.  Though the movie is filled with intrigue, it is slowly paced and a wonderful achievement in film making in this day.  Costumes, interiors, and the scientific instruments themselves are rendered to perfection, and the two lead actors easily carry the film despite not much happening.  These slowly paced films are such gems to find.  This is a great one, and well worth seeking.  (*Footnote:  Polaris (the North Star), is not the brightest star in the sky.  Not even close).

Now showing on the Roku channel.  There are commercials, but very few and far between. 

Lastly comes Margin, a short film from 2007 about taking a passenger boat (2 days, 3 nights) up the Amazon, from the border with Brazil and Columbia as far as Iquitos, Peru.  We stay on board the boat all times, and meet some of the travelers, including two Japanese men who seem to be in love with Columbia and the river.  Directed by Maya Da-rin, it runs just 55'.  Along the way, very old historical b & w footage is used, from earlier voyages along the same path.  Easy to watch, and quite fascinating.  The title refers to the land area closest to the river, where most of the people dwell.  It could also refer to the fact that this is not a deep film, but a simple journey undertaken and filmed.

 

Showing on Criterion until June 30th. 

Mapman Mike

 

 

Empty Spaces

Empty spaces, where there shouldn't be empty spaces.  This is a tale of woe and misery (and great expense), so be ye warned before reading on.  Two workmen finally arrived to carry out our cement work.  Originally we were to have new stairs, part of the driveway nearest the garage rebuilt and cemented, and our enormous front veranda re-cemented.  However, we received a phone call from the boss that his costs were going up weekly, and he would have to increase our estimate by $800.  Well now.  So we postponed the front veranda work.  The stairs are falling apart, and had to be done.  They arrived, and 11 hours later the old steps were demolished, as well as part of the driveway.  There was a surprise (the first one).  Beneath the old cement stairs was nothing at all.  There should have been dirt or scrap rock, but it was completely hollow underneath the old stairs.  The workers left for the day, and returned two days later.

The old staircase was crumbling badly.

Demolition work is complete.  Note that the stairs are now filled in with scrap rock, as they should have been from the start.  Our cement man had never seen hollow stairs before.  And note that little hole beneath the centre of the garage door. 

Now there were three of them, and their main job today was to build wooden cribs to hold the cement in its form until it set.  That took another entire day.  But while digging near the garage door, surprise #2 was discovered.  Lo and behold, beneath the cement floor of our indoor garage was a large and very hollow space.  Meaning we have been parking our car on a 70 year old slab of cement, with nothing underneath for at least six feet.  We were all quite taken aback by this.  He could not pour cement on our driveway now, as it would not set properly.  We were (are) in trouble.   

So, the stairs are ready to receive cement, hopefully soon but no date given.  And we have 4 different companies coming out this week to look at our newest problem, to see what can be done.  I have a sinking feeling that the entire garage floor will have to be torn up and removed, the giant emptiness beneath it filled in, and then a new cement floor laid down.  If such is the case, there will be no Christmas party for several years to come, let alone international travel.

The new stairs extend farther out than the older ones, and we will have a larger and wider landing up top.  We are awaiting the cement.  And four estimates for the garage problem.  And our tree guy has yet to show up to take down a huge poplar in our back yard. 

In happier news, here are some photos of our flowering shrubs.  I'll be back tomorrow with movie talk.

Some of our flowering shrubs.  Lilac season is well past, and the roses are just coming out now. 

Mapman Mike