Friday, April 22, 2016

Nicolas’s First Birthday--Fun to Be One

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When a baby turns one year old, as grandson Nicolas did on April 2, the ensuing birthday party is really for the rest of the family.  All the one-year-old wants to do is rip the paper off the gifts, play with the empty boxes, and smash the cake with his little fists. Fancy bakeries even offer to sell a “smash cake” for that purpose along with the “real” cake.   


  We said no thanks to the smash cake, but the carrot cake that we ordered from Yummy Mummy in Westboro was beyond delicious and, for some of the Greek relatives, their first encounter with carrot cake.

Mother Nature pulled an April Fool’s trick of producing a snowstorm the night before the party, leaving everything looking like a winter wonderland.  Meanwhile the blossoms on my magnolia tree froze.
While Mommy and Yiayia were decorating, Papou entertained the birthday boy by showing him photos on his I-phone.
“Tell me a story about that one!”

“You expect me to believe that? Do you think I was born yesterday?”

The decorating theme of the party was “It’s fun to be one”, with a jolly group of circus animals including a huge balloon of a lion that became the star of the show (because it was both terrifying and fascinating to Nicolas, who, by the end of the party, could imitate the lion’s imaginary ROAR.)
Here’s everyone ready for the party, including Amalia in her gold and white dress.

People came and they got food buffet-style, and then it was time to blow out the candle on the cake.

Nicolas didn’t understand the protocol, so Amalia moved in to help.

After cake and ice cream, according to Amalia, it was time for the PINATA.  (She also insisted on making goodie bags for the three kids at the party: herself, Nicolas, and five-month-old cousin Stone.)

Amalia tried valiantly to smash the piñata, with Papi’s help, but no luck.

When Papou took over, the piñata was soon in pieces.

Amalia and helpers scooped up the loot.

And after everyone left, Nicolas still had hours  of fun with that scary lion balloon, creeping up to it and then pushing it away.  Just like it said on the napkins, tablecloth and balloons, he concluded, it’s fun to be one!

Tuesday, April 19, 2016

One Sunday on Lincoln Road, South Beach, Miami

Lincoln Road in South Beach is the capital of strangeness every day, but on weekends the antique dealers and food sellers and purveyors of art and eccentricity come out, and you can see and buy some interesting things.  Here are a few photos I took on a Sunday not so long ago.
You can buy Barbie and Ken porn.

And Sanders and Trump caricatures.

I had to buy this wonderful pop art jacket for daughter Marina...You see, her boyfriend's name is Jeff.

 Many are offering a healthy life style.

Juice therapy...

And exotic fruits I cannot identify.

Not to mention a variety of dishes for dogs.

A former Cadillac dealership now offers leisure wear

A sinister face looms over a door to a store that's for rent.

You might want to take in "The Golem of Havana"

This lady has a warning for the people of Lincoln Road.






Friday, April 1, 2016

Mezcal & My Favorite Mexican Photos

 I keep reading articles about how mezcal is becoming the trendy drink, for instance "Mezcal Sunrise" by Dana Goodyear in the current New Yorker.  That inspired me to look up and re-post this photo essay from five years ago.  I really miss my annual cooking tours to Mexico with Susana Trilling and her "Seasons of the Heart" and the painting and photography classes in Oaxaca with my friend Mari Seder, but nowadays my travel lust takes me just to Manhattan and my grandkids.  When I turned 75, Nick said to me, "What do you want for your birthday?  A trip to Mexico?" and I instantly replied, "No, a trip to Disney World in Orlando with Amalia and Nicolas!"  So that's happening during the last week in April.  And of course I'll blog about it.

Tuesday, March 29, 2016

My Grandmother’s Quilt

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The Dresden-plate-pattern quilt that my maternal grandmother, Anna Truan Dobson, made for my mother, Martha, as a gift for her wedding in 1932 was the family treasure that I coveted most of all, especially after my husband and I and our three children moved from New York City to an antique colonial house in Massachusetts in the 1970’s.  But my mother wasn’t about to part with it, even though she kept it hidden away in a closet.

I poured my longing into buying other antique quilts and learning about quilt patterns. I hung a tumbling-blocks quilt and a barn-raising quilt on the walls above the staircase and put framed squares from a very old tree-of-life quilt in the upstairs hall.

Part of the magic of my mother’s quilt was its story (or “provenance”, as they say in the antique world.).  My beautiful grandmother Anna, born in Tennessee to a French-speaking Swiss-immigrant family in 1872, finished collage with two degrees before the turn of the century—a rarity for a Southern girl. The first time my grandfather, Reverend Frederick Fee Dobson, proposed to her, she turned him down, probably because she knew that accepting would mean she’d have to travel with him to Indian Territory in what is now Oklahoma and help him convert the natives to Christianity and establish churches and schools there.

 But some time later, Frederick came back to Tennessee and proposed again, and this time Anna accepted.  She was 24 when they were married on January 16, 1896 at Tahlequah Institute, Indian Territory, Oklahoma. In the photograph above she stands on the right in the back row on the “porch of the dormitory” with the other faculty members. The women were her bridesmaids and the man with the mustache was Reverend Hamilton, the minister who married them.


 Between the age of 24 and 49, Anna gave birth to nine children—two boys and then seven girls.  My mother Martha was number six.  She remembers hearing her mother weeping when she realized that she was pregnant with the last one.  In the photo above, Anna is holding that daughter, Betty, and you can see that her hair has turned white.  My mother is at right in the second row.



 In Oklahoma, Anna taught Native American children at the Tahlequah Presbyterian school and instructed their mothers in tatting, crocheting and quilting. Later she taught Sunday School and augmented the budget by giving piano and French lessons. Every Saturday night she would supervise bathing the children in a tin tub in the kitchen and would prepare the Sunday meal so that the whole family could attend all three Sunday services. (My mother told me that they were not allowed to play cards or even read the newspaper on Sunday.)  The photo above shows the family after church, at a time when there were only seven children.  My mother is the moppet in front next to her father.

For the weddings of each of her nine children Anna made a quilt in the pattern and colors they chose.  My mother told me that her father, the minister, also made one square of her quilt so he could participate in the gift.

I always admired my grandmother for her beauty and her intellectual curiosity. After her children were grown and her husband died in 1948, she traveled and lectured about birds, wild flowers and biblical subjects. She also found time to keep on researching and learning until she suffered a stroke in her eighties.  She died in 1964, aged 92.


My own mother died of heart failure in 1985 and the wedding quilt became mine at last.  From my research into vintage quilts I’ve learned that at least some of the fabrics in it came from patterned cotton flour sacks, and that the Dresden plate pattern was very popular in the 1930’s.
Along with the wedding quilt, I also inherited a brooch from my grandmother--shown above in front of another photograph of Anna.  The lady with the scarf was an immensely popular beauty in Victorian times, and her likeness could be found on plates, dolls, brooches and even cigarette tins.  Long before the day of the internet search, I learned from a hobby magazine that she was Queen Louise of Prussia, born in 1776 in Hanover. She married King Frederich Willhelm III and was much beloved for her goodness to the poor.

I’ve even started collecting Queen Louise embellished objects, using on-line auction marketplaces like Invaluable.com. They have a great collectibles section. 

 Neither my grandmother’s quilt nor her brooch are as valuable as other pieces I own, but so often, when a collector is asked which of his pieces he treasures the most, the collector will name the one that has the most personal meaning because of the story that comes with it. Naturally my Dresden plate quilt is my favorite, because my grandmother (and grandfather) made every stitch with their own hands.

Saturday, March 26, 2016

Manhattan Reflections


Last Monday I walked from 53rd and Sixth (where the Limoliner from Boston lets passengers off) across town to 53rd and Third Avenue.  It was a beautiful day and after I passed the Museum of Modern Art I became fascinated with the reflections in the glass-sided skyscrapers.

 It was like a hall of mirrors in a carnival.  You couldn’t tell where the reflections left off and the real buildings began.

 I’ve said it before—when you’re in Manhattan, you have to keep looking up, or you’ll miss a lot…  stone gargoyles, trompe l’oeil walls leading nowhere, kamikaze pigeons.

 When I got to Park and 53rd, I encountered this skinny fellow in the middle of the avenue, where public art is often on display.

Here’s what he was looking up at.

Here’s a view of him from the other side of Park.  Behind him is Lever House, one of the first famous glass-sided skyscrapers. That’s where, fresh out of Columbia’s Graduate School of Journalism, I had my first real job (in public relations) fifty-two years ago. I had to be at my desk at 8:00 a.m., carrying five New York newspapers that I would read and summarize for the Lever executives—anything that related to the company. Then I would type the news-sheet, mimeograph it, and circulate it within the building. I was on the 21st floor.  When the subway went through underground, you could feel the building sway. I quit after six months.
Now Lever House has details of masterpiece paintings on its façade.  One of those things you’d miss if you didn’t look up.

When I got back to the apartment, I googled and learned that the statue at 53rd and Park is a 33.3-feet-tall stainless-steel sculpture by American artist Tom Friedman.  It will be there until mid-July.  The name of it is “Looking Up.”