Monthly Archives: January 2012

This past week we took ourselves to New York City for one of our Broadway musical/shopping/museum/urban vibe trips. We had been in the city last September 11 to be part of a chorus that sang Rene Clausen’s Memorial at the Lincoln Center. We had rehearsals and the performance but managed to squeeze in some B/S/M/UV time. This time it was all about that.

We had a good discount on a nice hotel and so off we went last Thursday with Becky driving (as usual–I’m the navigator) to Somerville, New Jersey where we left the car and caught the New Jersey Transit into the city. We’ve found this to be a fast and relatively inexpensive way to get to Manhattan. We arrived at the hotel about 6, checked in using a spiffy electronic kiosk and set off for the TKTS booth at Times Square, which sells half-price same-day tickets to Broadway shows. Ducats (don’t you love the outdated show biz vocabulary?) for Mama Mia were available, so we snapped some up and made our way to Bubba Gump’s Shrimp Factory restaurant at Times Square, the largest of that chain. We like to eat there–the service is fast and friendly and the food is good. By the time we ate it was time to make it to the Winter Garden Theater (where Becky saw her first Broadway musical) and Mama Mia!

To tell the truth, although we had heard good things about this musical, I thought it was going to be extremely lame. I had seen the movie version and it was an embarrassment to watch a fine actress like Meryl Streep in such a horrid production. I wasn’t expecting much, but it was a case of “Wrong again, Lt. Dan!” I think it was a critic who called the play “dance at your seat exuberant” but that was exactly right. I am not a dance-at-your-seat kind of guy normally, but i made an exception for this. I did keep some of my best moves back for the series of disco nights I will be attending in the near future. As if.

 The next morning we had planned to go stand in the crowd outside The Today Show a few blocks from our hotel but sub-freezing temperatures and winds of 40+ mph had us watching the proceedings from the hotel room. Then we were off to the Metropolitan Museum where the incredible number of priceless artifacts blew me away as always. After lunch we went back to room and rested, then saw Wicked that evening, a wonderfully nuanced show that I recommend highly.

Saturday, we got some tickets for a Mary Poppins matinee that afternoon and went to the Dead Sea Scrolls exhibit at the Discovery Museum at Times Square. If you have a chance to see it, please go. The antiquities are on loan from the state of Israel and gave me a case of goose bumps the whole time we were in the display.
After lunch we were off to Mary Poppins, which proved to be an unfortunate experience for me. Our seats in the nose bleed section were so cramped that my legs from the mid-calf down to my toes went numb by intermission. Not wanting to entertain a clot from DVT, I bailed out of the show (which I found annoying…sorry, Julie Andrews fans) and sat in a coffee shop and made notes for this post. Becky soldiered on inside and I met her after the show.

We went out to dinner and then back to the hotel for a quiet evening of TV and catching up on emails and Facebook.

The next morning we got underway and had an exceptionally smooth trip under clear if cold skies.

We’ll be back after an interval to recover. This sort of journey suits us well and it is expensive but we believe it to be well worth the price. The title is from a Gordon Lightfoot (who else?) song from the 60’s in which he sings about what a cold and lonely place the city is. In the 60’s when I visited it in college, I found it to be dirty, dangerous, expensive and filled with nasty people. All that has changed. The city still has its problems, but there’s no other place like it. It is clean, safe and filled with nice people, but still expensive. New York might have cold hands, but it now also has a warm heart.

I noted with sadness the passing of Bill Trumbull on Tuesday at Prince William Hospital, about a mile from where we live. I wasn’t aware he and his wife lived in the area, in Bristow. Bill was part of the ambiance of the Washington area during a 36-year run on WMAL-AM.

During the years when ‘MAL ruled the airwaves, they had a lineup that that ran all day and all night with memorable personalities and, yes, good music on the AM band. FM radio was not established in the area at that time. People set their clocks and checked their schedule against the shennanigans of Harden and Weaver in the morning, followed by Tom Gauger, then Bill with partner Chris Core in what was called at first “Two for the Road” and soon changed to “Trumbull and Core” and Felix Grant with his cool jazz program and Bill Mayhugh overnight. John Lyons was an incredible weekend guy and fill-in.

Like many other people, my car pool buddy Mike Bartlett and I listened to Trumbull and Core on our drive home. They made taking the traffic a lot easier. The show featured an eclectic mix of music and comedy. Trumbull’s self-deprecating humor was laugh-out-loud funny and the fellow always seemed to be suffering some disaster. By all accounts, he was a nice man, a rarity, I understand, in the radio business.

Chris Core did a touching tribute to his friend and partner yesterday on his “Core Values” feature on WTOP-FM. You can follow this link to listen to it: http://www.wtop.com/?nid=200&sid=2702914

I remember the fun and the silliness, but I also remember that terrible day thirty years ago tomorrow when Air Florida Flight 90 slammed into the 14th Street Bridge. We had had an early dismissal from school because of the snowstorm and it took Mike and me three hours to drive from Fairfax. Trumbull and Core kept us company the whole way. As we were coming down Barnett Street to Mike’s house (we did not move to the neighborhood until 1988), Chris Core came on and announced that an airplane had hit the bridge and gone into the Potomac. It was a chilling and memorable moment, part of the dark matter of life in the Washington area.

My condolences to Bill’s family and friends. Somehow, that friends category includes all his listeners. Rest in peace, Bill Trumbull.

Each week I want to feature a local writer, so Biscuit City’s first Writer of the Week is Woodbridge author Nancy Kyme. I met Nancy about a month ago at a book signing at a fair at Mayfield School. She published her first book, Memory Lake, last year and is at work on a sequel. Nancy is witty, warm, wise and unusual as a writer in that she is a C.P.A. and taught herself to write without benefit of a literature degree or an M.F.A. I’m cutting in the review of her book that I wrote for Amazon.com. I urge you to read Nancy’s book. You won’t regret it.

Mother, daughter, military wife, C. P. A. and first-time author Nancy Kyme has penned a luminous literary non-fiction piece about her experiences at a summer camp on the shores of Lake Michigan in the 1970’s. This finely measured, clearly remembered and richly imagined work cycles in a complex recursive arc from the adult Nancy taking her daughter and the daughter’s friends to Nancy’s reunion at the camp back and forth through time by means of a sophisticated intermittent narrative of the teenaged Nancy who spent seven summers at the camp. All the classic camp story elements are there: the bunks, the cabins, the dining hall, the counselors, lessons and activities of all sorts, the smelly and somewhat brutish boy campers, the awards, encounters with nature, pranks, conflicts between girls (although minor and understated) songs, ceremonies, special trips and a sense of Edenic isolation.

And yet, like the lake at the camp’s edge, much more lurks beneath the surface. The first half of the story resonates with elements of myth, romance (in the literary sense), tragedy (loss) and a struggle to create meaning and find peace in the aftermath of a heartfelt tragedy. This is no summer beach read or even a notch or two above a summer beach read: it is a full-on resonant example of the coming of age genre told from a point of mature wisdom. I believe it is destined to become a classic if there is any justice in this world.

Memory Lake, while focusing on the difficult straits of the passage into adulthood and coming to terms with the past, lies close in imagination to Never-Never Land, the planets of Star Wars, , the wizarding world of Harry Potter, Narnia, the emerald towers of the City of Oz and the Louisiana of Steel Magnolias. With its complex but clearly presented structure, characters and setting , the book evokes not only a richly remembered past but also a calm present whose serenity has been gained only by great sacrifice. Well drawn, identifiable characters (whom we like and wish the best for), authentic dialogue, exact and evocative word choice, beautifully detailed description and poetry worked into the prose at every turn of the page create a world apart we have either experienced or wish we could have.

The second part of the story drops into a post-modern recounting of the culmination of the trip to the reunion at the camp and resonant flashbacks to a mythical wounding and its healing aftermath. We also learn the true nature of the informing tragedy of the book . The resulting philosophical and theological insights lift the narrative into the realm of the universal archeytpe while remaining firmly rooted in everyday events and miraculous epiphanies.

With this book, Kyme joins the ranks of authors like Alice Sebold, A. S. Byatt, Barbara Kingsolver, Alice Munro, Laurie Colwin and Anne Tyler, who write about ordinary life and its implications and who illuminate matters of the heart with skill, insight and subtlety. I pray that she has many, many more stories in her heart and mind for all of us who need to remember, to hope, to be unafraid, to move on and to love.

I am a rapid reader, and normally I could have read the 400-plus pages of a book like this in two days at the least, and four days at the most. This book took me three weeks of solid reading because I crawled through it. There was so much to see along the way–I don’t regret the time I spent reading at all. It was time and effort well spent.

It seems that we have been going through a season of deaths and serious illnesses among people we know, some sudden and unexpected, some expected but deeply felt nonetheless. This blog is for Stewart and Scott and Steve and Emily’s dad who either passed away recently or are at death’s door and for their families and loved ones. Becky and I pray for peace, feeling the love and support of family and friends and hope and healing for all those who suffer this pain.

At the same time, there have been joys, healings and fortuitous events among people we know. Our young friend Matt returned home from his second tour of Afghanistan this past week. His wife is expecting their first child. We rejoice with those who have had births in their family and with those who are anticipating such a happy event. There have been miraculous healings and other answers to prayers.

So, for those who grieve and for those who suffer, this poem by John Donne from the seventeenth century. This  sonnet is very dense, but Biscuit City readers are intelligent as well as good-looking so I know you will appreciate Dr. Donne’s effort: