Take a Dream Trip to the Heaven on Earth for boaters!

I never forgot my first trip to the Thousand Islands, an archipelago of over 1,800 islands sprawled across the Canadian and U.S. borders. Located in the St. Lawrence River as it emerges from the northeast corner of Lake Ontario, the islands are a northern paradise. My roommate and I drove from State University of New York (SUNY) Oswego, rented a rickety motorboat and cruised through deserted islands and ones with castles and mansions built when the area was the playground of the rich. On our last night, the heavens opened into ribbons of green, white and pink streaked across the sky — the only time I ever saw the Northern Lights.

The Iroquois and Algonquin Indians spent their summers fishing and hunting on the islands. Lore has it that the Indian spirit Manitou promised his people he would give them paradise if they stopped fighting. When they kept on warring, Manitou put paradise into a bag and threw it into the horizon. A thousand pieces fell from the sky into the St. Lawrence River, creating the Thousand Islands. Science maintains that the tops of several mountains fell off and began the chain.

To say that the Thousand Islands is a boating mecca is an understatement. The islands support a spectacular array of wildlife including many types of birds, snakes, salamanders and more, all living happily undisturbed in their northern paradise. The fishing is considered topnotch with an array of freshwater catch such as bass, northern pike, walleye and yellow perch. After a long day of exploration, boaters can be lulled to sleep by the eerie trill of the eastern sea owl.

This May, we plan to finally return to Thousand Islands, when most of the attractions reopen in mid-May before the summer crowds fill the waterways. Here is our itinerary.

Starting Point: Clayton, NY

Clayton NY aerial of Antique Boat Museum | Credit Wikimedia Commons

The most breathtaking islands on the New York side can be found in and around Alexandria Bay. We will visit wine trails, craft breweries, lighthouses, castles and museums and just hike the islands themselves. A must-see is the Thousand Islands Winery started by a retired army major. Launched in 2003 amid much skepticism, the thriving business now produces more than 50,000 gallons of wine each year, mostly Riesling and more recently a port.

The Clayton Harbor Municipal Marina has 49 floating slips and T-ends accommodating vessels up to 88 feet. We can dock and dine as ramps connect to the public riverwalk leading into a downtown of about 1,000 people.

Our first night will be spent on dry land at the four-star 1,000 Islands Harbor Hotel, which offers outdoor dining and balconies with sweeping views of the St. Lawrence River. At the back of the hotel is an outdoor gathering area with gas firepits where we can relax and meet other travelers. We’ll spend plenty of time on the boat as well.

Clayton is also home to the Antique Boat Museum, which harbors more than 320 boats, thousands of artifacts and archives chronicling boating history throughout the region. North America’s largest collection of antique and classic wooden boats are housed in the museum.

The museum is comprised of several buildings, and each holds different types of vessels ranging from canoes and skiffs to vintage boats that you are allowed to board. Exhibits are not just confined to boating, and one popular section explains life on the water during the winter exploring ice skate sailing, ice farming and ice fishing. One building offers a boat building workshop. Afterward, we will stop at the Old Boat Brewery across the street, the perfect respite post museum.

Stop 1: Alexandria Bay, NY

Estimated mileage: 9 NM

Our next attraction will be Boldt Castle, commissioned by millionaire hotel magnate George C. Boldt in 1900 and constructed over four years on Heart Island, so named because it is shaped like a heart. After his wife Louise died suddenly in 1904, Boldt never returned to the island and construction of the castle was abandoned for 73 years. Today, the 120-room, six story castle is owned by the Thousand Islands Bridge Authority. Inside are two completely restored floors as well as antiques and other exhibits about the islands in the less perfected rooms. Boldt Castle opens for the season on May 15, and we expect to dock there. The Heart Island dock can take boats of more than 40 feet and drawing upward of 10 feet. Heart Island is also the U.S. Customs & Immigration check-in point that provides what you need to cross to the Canadian side of the Thousand Islands.

Stop 2: Brockville, Ontario, Canada

Estimated mileage: 18 NM

The St. Lawrence River is an excellent spot for freshwater diving, and the Canadian side of the Islands is home to many shipwrecks. The underwater, extremely rocky geography of Ontario was treacherous to ships, and many did not make it through. You can explore dozens of wrecks, with some going as far back as the early 1800s.

While the water will still be quite cold in May, the dives are worth a wet suit. Zebra mussels (an invasive species) have created waterways with amazing visibility, in some spots up to 50 feet. Dive shops offer gear and underwater dive tours as well as lessons. If you want to stay snug and warm on a boat, consider glass bottom boat tours.

Our plan is to head to Brockville, Canada, where more than 10 wrecks between that area and Rockport are located. Inexperienced divers often go to the site of the Robert Gaskin, because the water is quite shallow and only reaches a maximum of 70 feet. The current is relatively light and not an impediment. More experienced divers can visit a 220-foot freighter on the Henry C. Daryaw site 90 feet below the surface.

Stop 3: Thousand Islands National Park — Mallorytown, Ontario, Canada

Estimated mileage: 11 NM

We plan to spend a couple of nights in this small national park, because many of its 21 islands can only be visited by boat. Granite islands and rugged shorelines compete with snow-capped mountains and historic fishing villages as some of the most beautiful places to visit in Canada. The area’s first known inhabitants date back 10,000 years. Many artifacts were found in the area including a 2,500-year- old pot unearthed by a diver in 1979. Pictographs, one of the earliest forms of writing, can still be spotted on shoreline cliffs.

Stop 4: Gananoque, Ontario, Canada

Estimated mileage: 16 NM

To end our trip, we plan to visit the village of Gananoque and its 5,000 residents. The name means “Water Rising over Rocks” or “Garden of the Great Spirit.” The area is bursting with musicians, visual arts, crafts, dance, theater, boat building, storytelling and photography. Much of the Thousand Islands’ past is exhibited at the Thousand Islands History Museum. For those who want to enjoy 21st century fun, test your luck at the Shorelines Casino.

The Cuisine of Trinidad & Tobago

Tucked away in the southernmost corner of the Caribbean Sea on the island of Trinidad, Lystra Seepersad, creator of the Caribbean Kitchen Pool & Lounge, teaches cooking to her fellow islanders and visitors. About 45 minutes from the twin island republic's capital city Port of Spain, her home is a food oasis fed by a small but mighty kitchen garden producing sweet corn, broccoli, peppers and myriad of other vegetables, as well as spices such as karapule, which is used in curry.

Courtesy of Lystra Seepersad

At the center of her pool resides a white and pink blow up unicorn, a testament to her unique style and a favorite when she holds birthday parties for local children.

Lystra has spent the past two decades teaching herself to cook the specialties and varied cuisine of the islands and now shares what she's learned through in-person and virtual classes. Mastering the diversity of Trinidadian and Tobagonian food can take years.

Like other Caribbean countries, recipes are rarely written down and instead are passed from generation to generation, much like family heirlooms. Lystra began experimenting with different spices at 19, and when she married, her husband Aftab was her guinea pig for taste testing. He was a gentle reminder that she could always improve. "Aftab might say that needs a little bit of this and that, but if he didn't like the food he wouldn't have said much, just not taken more," she explains.

The cuisine of Trinidad and Tobago is "a melting pot formed from an array of cultures including Chinese, Indian, African, Syrian, Lebanese, Guyanese, Italian and Creole. Slaves, indentured servants and colonizers from Spain, France and Great Britain have also influenced the course of its cuisine for centuries."

Lystra, who labels herself an exquisite entrepreneur, has done well helping others learn to cook the food of her homeland. Between her private group page and business pages on Facebook she has close to 100,000 followers who keep coming back in part because of the constant stories about food amidst photos of mouth-watering dishes and happy cooks in training.

One of her favorite ways of getting attention is to ask her followers what's for dinner? The question is followed by images of delectable dishes such as palau, a stew made with either beef or chicken. Its unique flavor comes from searing the meat in caramelized sugar then simmering with rice, coconut milk and pigeon peas accompanied by slices of tomato, avocadoes or cucumber. Other meals may include curried duck or curried goat so tantalizing you can almost smell them through the Internet.

Preparing Meals in Paradise

Trinidad and Tobago, and the 21 smaller islands spanning almost 2,000 square miles off the coast of Venezuela, are worth a trip simply for the views. Trinidad is the more developed of the two big islands, and its capital Port of Spain is home to a thriving oil industry and one of the busiest shipping hubs in the Caribbean. By contrast, Tobago is largely undeveloped with a coastline encircled by peacock blue water and white coral sand beaches. Its interior is rich with rainforests, waterfalls and wildlife.

Lystra's cooking class | Lystra Seepersad

Lystra taught her first cooking class in 2017, a hands-on West Indian roti and curry workshop. Roti is a local wheat- based flatbread that can be compared to naan in India although the only version called sada roti has the similar buttery texture of the Indian version.A local favorite roti is called Buss Up Shut because the crust is flaky and easily shreds, which looks like a bussed up or torn shirt. Street food such as Doubles, a sandwich made from curried chickpeas tucked between two pieces of fried flat bread and dressed in tamarind, coriander sauces and mango chutney, is also on the menu.

A typical cooking class lasts five to six hours and walks students through the process of preparing, cooking and presenting the finished meal. Students assist her in cooking, and when all is done each goes home with a box of food and a gift for coming to class, such as a special bowl or kitchen tongs. Lystra also travels to the students' homes and prepares food with them in domiciles as varied as boats and corporate offices.

What's the best part about teaching others to love the food of her native land? I like it when my participants message me with their photos to show their progress in the kitchen, she said. Some have even opened catering businesses. I remember one participant who said his money for his wife's classes was well worth it. That was a great feeling knowing I had helped others regain their confidence in the kitchen. For more, go to caribbeankitchenbylystra.com

Whole Wheat Sada Roti

Ingredients

• 4 CUPS FLOUR

• 1/2 CUP WHEAT BRAN (OPTIONAL; COULD BE REPLACED WITH WHITE FLOUR)

• 3 TEASPOONS BAKING POWDER

• 3/4 TEASPOON SALT

• 1/2 TEASPOON SUGAR

• 1 TO 2 CUPS OF WATER FOR KNEADING

Method

1. Place dry ingredients in a bowl, then knead flour with 1 1/2 cups of water, add a little more if necessary.

2. Brush the top with oil, cover and leave to rest for 45 minutes.

3. Make 3 to 4 small dough balls (loyas). Cover and leave to rest another 15 minutes.

4. Heat the tawah or griddle.

5. Open one of the dough balls and place on a floured surface. Roll out with a rolling pin about 8 inches wide and 1/2 inch thick.

6. Place the rolled-out dough on the heated tawah. As soon as the bubbles start to form flip it over and cook the other side. Flip one more time.

7. To sakay the roti (toast the edges so it inflates and you can put cooked vegetables inside), pull the tawah away from the flame, tilt the side you are holding downward so the side that is used is not touching your grill and use a clean dish cloth to push the roti towards the flame to cook the edges evenly.

A Week in Pre-Season Cape Cod

Two days after school ended I put the dog in the car and drove nine hours to Cape Cod. I had looked at beach places to rent in North Carolina, Delaware, and even the Jersey shore but they were all in the thousands of dollars and little remained. In the DMV it was 90 plus degrees with 100% humidity in June. As someone who lived much of her life in the northeast I needed a New England fix. Here’s what happened.

Close Encounter beach in Easton

I booked an Airbnb for a week and then convinced myself to leave right after school. Sitting in the house and losing my mind is not away to decompress. I had to go to Massachusetts over a screw-up with a title selling a truck I owned and trying to deal with it from home put me in a bureaucratic hell that apparently could go on for months. So I rented an Airbnb and left a week earlier than I had planned.

The weather on the Cape was flawless, the summer season didn’t begin until July 4th weekend, and the area around Wellfleet (yes where some of the best oysters in the world come from) was in the 60s and 70s with no humidity. I won.

My Airbnb fell through and to their credit I got a full refund. I found a one bedroom apartment that had not yet been deep cleaned and she gave me two free nights as she made it livable. So I ended up paying just under $700 for six nights in a cute one bedroom cottage behind someone’s house with a deck, a yard and a quick drive to Close Encounter Beach in Eastham. I had read that dogs were not allowed on the beach in the Cape (and they really enforce it), so the night I found the locals playing with their dogs right before sunset I found my beach. When I mentioned the dog ban one dog mom said “I live here year round. Don’t pay any attention to that.”

The Brickhouse Restaurant in Eastham had the distinct honor of being the worst restaurant I’ve ever been to. From the dirty martini that was made by pouring pickle juice or some other vile substance into a shaker, adding ice, vodka and I hate to think of what else was the worst drink I’ve ever had. Next they brought Oysters Rockefeller drowning in cream with barely a hint of where the oyster once was - someone else must have eaten them. The spinach made me throw up later. All the while the manager and the waiter worked hard at being nice as I sent back food. Did manage a few bites of mediocre clam chowder.

Not a Dog Friendly Place

Without the beach during the day, Cape Cod became a place where you visit towns. That’s where I learned that restaurants were either really dog friendly (meaning they gave her water, a bone and a seat on a restaurant’s porch), or just plain said no.

Chatham is a sweet little Cape town with a main street people stroll and find things to buy. Kind of boring, but we diligently walked it, found nothing and then went to the Wild Goose Tavern which had a back patio where they loved on my dog Roo. Burgers perfectly cooked, wine drinkable and delightful wait staff. Not bad for a first day.

The Lobster and Drag Queen Brunch

Wellfleet was a much bigger hit. The town dock had a seafood restaurant, pooches everywhere. They sold a selection of fried everything and grilled fish. Our last night we went back and bought a two pound lobster who looked straight at me as he was pulled from the tank.

“I’m really sorry,” I said to him, then realized I had spoken aloud. The people behind the counter giggled at the tourist. Thy cooked it and sent me home with the best lobster dinner ever. I hope its lobster family forgives me.

Provincetown was the last adventure, a strip of a town with joyous LGBTQ+ people just being whoever they wanted to be. We watched a drag queen brunch ensemble with much strutting, then ate ice cream, played a bit in the sand, which no one cared about and called it a day.

The MVA’s lines were endless so I picked up the forms for a new title and mailed them back. Did I mention that Wellfleet has a shop that embraced legal cannabis and a system to make it feel like a visit to an old friend’s basement in high school? It does.

The drive home was endless but we did it - success and the beach!

Rooey on the path to the beach!

Take Me Home Country Roads

Fiddlers on the main stage.

Spent the weekend at The Vandalia Fiddle Gathering in Charleston, WV. An old friend was told by her mom as a child, and young adult, that she had no musical talent. Turns out her grandfather played the fiddle and her passion to learn and play was unstoppable. That was a couple of decades ago. Today she is an accomplished musician who plays at festivals and gatherings throughout Northern California.

This summer she headed for the East Coast to the capital of WV to join hundreds of other fiddlers and musicians at a three-day music love fest. Picture this. A stately Southern building sits atop a hill, flanked by green, with a sprawl of musicians blanketing around it. Fiddle music everywhere. At night we descended on the town, which offered surprisingly good pizza, and a host of other options other than the usual barbecued pork sandwiches. Such a chummy, outgoing group, those fiddlers.

Spent the first night in a Fayetteville cabin about an hour from Charleston. Dozens of adventure lovers head there for white water rafting - a great place for the summer ski bums to find more danger thrills. There’s not much to the town but we did eat good Mexican food in a restaurant called Don Rizo Mexican Kitchen and Cantina on the main street in town.

The owner joined us and told us how he had left home for many years, living mostly in San Francisco,. But the lure of WV was too strong so he brought Mexican food to the town where he grew up.

The entire trip John Denver’s song “Take Me Home Country Roads”, ran through my mind. The line “West Virginia, Mountain Mama” followed by the song title would not quit. On the ride home trying to avoid VA holiday traffic, the GPS took us through western Maryland. I sang along to Spotify, remembering the rest of the words.

Charleston capitol shines in the moonlight!

My Journey as a Public School Teacher

Finding Fulfillment in Retirement

A former corporate marketer returns to the classroom, this time in the footsteps of a mentor who had kindled her passion for writin.

Last fall and winter I spent four months teaching third-grade students at a local elementary school how to write. An eight-year-old girl with cornflower blue eyes came to my desk at the end of each day and handed me a tiny white-and-black striped tiger.

"Pet him," she instructed in a sweet, firm voice, and the day's stress melted away.

"As a daily substitute, I bounced from school to school, which allowed no real connection with the kids. So I picked the schools I liked and became a long-term sub,"  |  Credit: Getty

After I left for another assignment, I received a cardboard box in the mail that contained a small stuffed tiger and a note that said, "I'm sending you this tiger so you don't forget about teaching us. Your friend L."

"I'm sending you this tiger so you don't forget about teaching us." 

While I spent most of my career in the corporate world, I had long been drawn toward teaching — partly to experience moments like that. My mentor was my ninth-grade English teacher, one of those rare gems who could encourage and inspire a student like me to become a writer.

Inspired to Teach

My mother had died the winter before I started high school, and I was still in shock when classes began. At my teacher's suggestion, I began keeping a diary, which led to poems and short stories. Writing helped me move forward and get my bearings back.

Now, in retirement, it was my turn to pay it forward.

In early 2022 I was in my early 60s and not ready to officially retire. I wanted to do something meaningful. Early in my career I had written for top business media like the NY Times, Fortune and Business Week, covering marketing and advertising, and then moved to PR, which paid better and was easier.

I taught young PR and marketing professionals how to write, as well as both of my 20-something children. With an ancient degree from SUNY Oswego that said I majored in English and Education, I believed I was more qualified than most substitute teachers. So I became one.

Learning the System

Teaching in public schools as the COVID pandemic swept the country was like entering a foreign land. Everyone wore masks and there was an endless supply of hand sanitizer and soap.

A giant TV screen called a Promethean Board dominated the classroom and had become its central learning device. Every student was given a computer to use for the year. Most lessons were produced in slide shows that were left for substitutes to teach from.

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As a daily substitute, I bounced from school to school, which allowed no real connection with the kids. So I picked the schools I liked and became a long-term sub, filling in for a teacher who needed to take a couple of months off.

Long-term substitutes' pay was about 30% higher than the daily rate, but it also came with constant grading, an endless parade of assessments, and other challenges that salaried teachers had. When the Promethean Board didn't work, which was often since Wi-Fi in the schools was unreliable, I improvised and became a much more creative teacher.

A Difficult Situation

The teacher exodus was in full swing when I became a full-time sub, and many of those who stayed were desperately unhappy. The rage and frustration in some schools was concealed only by a thin veneer of professionalism that was used when those at higher pay grades were within earshot. Constant attrition offered a lot of opportunity for new teachers to get plum assignments.

"While I could not change the system, the leadership, the curriculum or the malaise that settled over my fellow teachers, I could make a difference with students."

The gaps in student knowledge were daunting. The most persistent problems were in math, where we had to teach multiplication and beginning division to some students who could barely add and subtract. Some students didn't know how to read yet, while others were proficient.

While I could not change the system, the leadership, the curriculum or the malaise that settled over my fellow teachers, I could make a difference with students. And slowly I began to reach them.

The most important thing I could do to get a classroom on track was connect with the kids by using material they cared about and paying a lot of attention to them.

In the fall of 2022, I got a job as a third-grade teacher and brought in a bevy of books and stuffed animals donated by my neighbors. To tap into their innate creativity, I had them make up stories that we called "the Stuffy Chronicles."

During the World Cup, I gave the students obsessed with soccer an assignment to research the teams in the semifinals and convince me their choices would win. They all picked Argentina, which did go on to win, and several offered analyses with data and text explaining why.

Persuading Students to Care

Next, I took a job teaching ninth-grade honors English at a local high school, becoming the teacher who had helped me all those years before. The students had gone through multiple substitutes and had no respect for any teacher who walked into the room to help.

The uphill battle began on day one: getting them to care about English again. In one class, the boys thought it was cool to use the F- word every couple of minutes and tormented me in every way they could think of.

Then I was given "The Hate U Give," a book by Angie Thomas that had been banned in several states. The story's protagonist was a young girl who moved daily between a private school and her life in the neighborhood.

My students saw themselves or their older siblings in the fictional account of a Black teen who was murdered for sassing a police officer during a traffic stop. The community in the novel came together and joined what was then a new movement called "Black Lives Matter."

Enthusiastic Debates

Most students were not reading the book at home, so we began a round robin reading it aloud in class. On my last day, the class — which now included boys who no longer cursed and even said hello to me in the hallway — read aloud and got into enthusiastic debates over the questions, "Why do you think the author chose to put so many different incidents in one chapter?" and "What was she trying to tell you?"

A couple of months later I ran into one of my former students at a local dog park. She said their new teacher paid no attention to them, and they missed me.

My most recent assignment was to replace a very popular sixth-grade teacher who was not only teaching kids how to write but how to organize information.

Working One-on-One

We started off a speechwriting unit with a video of Amanda Gorman's poem "The Hill We Climb," which she had read at President Biden's inauguration. We discussed adversities overcome by the people the students were writing speeches about including Matthew Henson, first Black explorer to reach the North Pole; Junko Tabei, the first woman to climb Mount Everest; and Harvey Milk, the first openly gay man to run for elected office. Some Florida schools have banned Gorman's poem.

For three months, I edited their work the way I was taught as a young writer, in one-on-one sessions working on structure, deeper thinking and grammar, among other issues. I was not with them long enough to ask them to figure out how to fix their own work, so I told them what they needed to do, and they came back with much better writing.

In all the years I worked in corporate America, building companies, marketing products and services, it was just about making other people money. None of it was as rewarding watching understanding and connection dawn on a child's face.

On the second-to-last day of sixth grade, one of the students presented me with a gift bag; inside was a mug that read, "Mrs. Stern, You Make a Difference Every Day."

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Aimee L. Stern is a teacher and freelance writer based in Maryland. Read More, appeared in PBS’ Next Avenue magazine.

48 Hours in Manhattan

Before this trip I had only been in New York once since the pandemic. I was there at the very beginning of Covid, in my perennial search for a way to live in NY again, dating someone with a great one bedroom on the Upper East Side. The relationship never stood a chance to begin with, but Covid killed it quickly.

This trip was a whim, I love Manhattan in January and February when the tourists are gone and decided to do a couple days of theater while visiting friends and family. Stayed at the Beacon Hotel, just adjacent to the concert theater, on Broadway. The Beacon has $179 high floors with a view for $179 which more than doubles in March and the rest of the year. I used to live on 72nd between West End Avenue and Broadway so this is still my “hood.”

Theater is way expensive now, but it was freezing and I did not want to stand online at TKTS so I just bought tickets. If you love theater as much as I do, and lived in NYC for close to two decades, you’ve seen most of what’s out there. I chose MJ, the Michael Jackson musical for my first night and had a perfect seat in the center orchestra. I got the the ticket from the Helen Hayes theater, not that hard since it was a Tuesday night, and chopped a couple hundred dollars off the scalper price. It was just over $200 with aTicketmaster fees.

MJ, the Michael Jackson Musical

MJ was the best show I’ve seen in years. I have always loved Michael Jackson, and despite all the controversy that has swirled around him, still love his music. The story spans Jackson’s early life from The Jackson Five, to as he puts his stamp on the Dangerous Tour in the 1990s. The story begins in the early 1970s as he was just coming to national prominence so it has all of that decade’s big hits including ABC, The Love Your Save, etc. All his pop hits before he changed as an artist and started exploring darker themes. The relationship between the five boys and their abusive father is upsetting, but then we shift to see his artistry at work.

MJ shares the evolution of his choreography which I have never seen before in theater. He pushed boundaries that his fiscally conservative white manager and other handlers were scared of, believing he should stick to being the King of Pop. The show hints at controversies swirling around him, but chooses a timeframe when he hadn’t gotten in trouble yet.

The woman I sat next to and I wanted to dance so badly that at one point she just stood up, nodded to me and went wild. I was well into my $40.00 vodka and cranberry juice by then. Learned the lesson ask before you buy a double shot in a theater

Between Riverside and Crazy

The play I saw the next day, Between Riverside and Crazy, had a packed theater and my $96 mezzanine seat was crammed against a wall leaving me about 4 inches of leg room. The usher was a sweetheart, and at intermission she moved me to an aisle seat.

The show focused on one of the last rent controlled buildings on Riverside Drive, which everyone wanted and Walter “Pops” Washington, played by Stephen McKinley Henderson, had no intention of giving up. He’s a retired N.Y.P.D. cop who barely leaves the apartment. The cast includes adult son, Junior (Common) who is just out of jail, Junior’s flighty girlfriend Lulu (Rosal Colón), and a recent parolee, Oswaldo (Victor Almanzar). Walter is suing the city because a white rookie cop shot him eight years earlier and he has mastered the cantankerous old man’s shifts from opinionated and stubborn to hilariously funny.

I highly recommend both shows.

Leaving NY

The last night I picked up Zabar’s and visited cousins with a feast of jambalaya, eggplant, grilled vegetables and more. The final morning I went to a hole in the wall cafe in Chelsea with an old friend. So fun.

In front of the Helen Hayes Theater.

Father and Son.

My Heart in San Francisco

You should know what this is.

I’ve been to San Francisco more than two dozen times and each one has been special in its own way. One of my oldest and dearest friends and her husband moved there in 1986, after a stint in the Peace Corps, and never left. She’s a musician and the scene is thriving with just about every kind of music played somewhere. They are the perfect examples of people who bought a home in a city when a middle class couples could still afford it. Also they have money because they never had children.

In November, the weather is often foggy, rainy and cold but my first day was 60 degrees and sunny in that blinding California way, so we headed to the Lands End trail near the Presidio for a 4.5 mile hilly trek along the Pacific. The hometown company has renovated and kept this trail in pristine condition. At its end, China Beach, a grey sanded strip where San Franciscans, grateful for the sun, bring their children, picnics marveling at how lucky they are to be alive. It’s that kind of vibe. For me it was just a deep breath of life can be better than what it is now.

Did I mention that from many vantage points you have a perfect view of the Golden Gate Bridge? Icing on the cake.

If you have knee issues, and I had one replaced a year ago, there is a strip of trail where you climb stairs until they throb but the views are worth it. There’s the obligatory rock claimed by seabirds, jutting towards the sky with a majesty that few things covered by poop can reach. Better to see it from a distance.

When San Francisco is Grey we go to Sausalito

The next day the weather couldn’t decide, at dawn (yes there was jet lag), the sun hinted at a perfect day, but by 11:00 am it was toying with us and the ride over the Bay Bridge was grey. Susan swore it would be sunny in Sausalito and I doubted her until we crossed the bridge, and there it was a long strip along the water, illuminated with sunlight and clouds.

On a Thursday afternoon in early November Sausalito was not in peak tourist time. We drove around for 20 minutes and found a spot on the main drag.

We walked and walked and walked - her GPS saying she walked less than I did because despite the fact that she is under 5’ tall she is in much better shape. They were not pandemic only walkers, they have kept it up and can literally skip up hills.

Then came the saga. We kept walking. We passed a place that looked perfect but she said it was not ours. When you’ve down someone since you were 17, and were told the beer was in the bathtub at your first freshman party in the dorm, you cut each other a lot of slack. It’s just a bit further,” she kept saying and we did a U-turn and found it on the way back- Salitos’s Crab House, the place we had passed and she said was not it. The view was worth it, expansive with hints of San Francisco as a backdrop, an expansive view of the Bay and a back porch that worked as well as a yoga class for a calming moment. The food was good -we weren’t that hungry. The fist was caught that morning.

The Dinner Party

My friends live in Sunnyside which has an expansive view of the city and generally presents San Francisco in a warming, friendly way. Cities are so often dominated by the young who want to do everything out, but the 60 plus crowd that I spent time with was far more interested in holding dinner parties. This was not surprising considering how incredibly expensive food was - far more than DC whose prices are up by 30-50%. It reminded me of a much more relaxed version of the parental dinner party I grew up with - carefully selected guests, potential topics of conversation discussed beforehand.

We used paper towels as napkins. For a moment I thought they had turned into our parents as the men headed for the kitchen and shots of tequila and we stayed near the gas fire with glasses of red and white wine.

The dinner was quite good, the husband became a pandemic cook and made chicken tanginess with rice and vegetables and she, a panacotta dessert topped with raspberry coulis that someone remarked had alcohol in it. I couldn’t eat the chicken but I managed to eat the side dishes. The smell of spice lingered over the meal for hours, as did we. And the drinking - one member of the happy couples got really drunk and the wife got more and more annoyed. Evidently they did not cut off the wine and the husband really likes to drink. The second couple was much happier - she worked in healthcare and he taught tech in schools, there was a dynamism and solidarity about them that spoke of mutual respect and a lot of kids who were now old enough to take care of themselves.

We never talked about teaching schools. I told them the story about the Bellevue escapee who stood in front of me right before the NYC subway reached Astor Place, and took off all of his clothes while others left the car.

They left by 10:00 and we sat up talking until yours truly fell asleep on the couch.

Jazz in Jesse’s Basement

The first Saturday of each month an old friend of theirs who teaches and performs, invites in a local jazz ensemble, to perform in a basement that holds about 25 people. The intimacy of it is was like going on an adventure with people you didn’t really know but felt very comfortable with. We had seats in the front row. The room was cool and dark and Jesse’s wife sat next to me. I paid $25 in cash at the door.

Jazz in Jesse’s Basement.

The star of the show was a base player, an older Asian woman who straddled the giant instrument like a practiced contortionist. Her joy in playing that instrument was palpable. I could feel it as I watched her and her hands were magical as they talked to the strings. Could I tell you what they played - not exactly. Several variations of early 20th Century jazz whose melodies were vaguely familiar from records my parents used to have. Just the act of being swallowed by live music without getting pushed around was worth the entire trip.

At the break, I sat and ate fried shrimp and a couple of other things. People were welcoming.

Crazy Korean Massage

The Imperial Day Spa was described by one of the women at the dinner party as a “car wash.” When we think of spas we think of luxuriating under fluffy white towels, spritzing ourselves in the sauna, a choice of fresh-squeezed juices and a hot tub. That’s not what this is.

You enter, strip naked, lie on a tatami mat with other naked women and breathe in Himalayan salt which clears out all the stuff that you want gone. They give you a single large towel which you toss on the mat and lie down on. About 20 minutes later it’s enough and there is a hot tub, a cold pool and what I chose, a frigid shower. No clothes anywhere.

They were late in getting us so we got time to enjoy the pre car wash festivities. She had taken me once before to Kabuki so I was expecting it to be rough but I didn’t expect this. We follow a woman up the stairs and she separates us - I go to a table and she throws hot water all over it - spend much of the time wondering whether I will fall off. But the Asian woman in a black top and shorts isn’t going to let that happen. She throws more hot water on me and then gets what can only be described as a scrub brush - the kind you would use inside a toilet - and remove layers of your skin. I wince and breathe my way through it.

She also pounds on me at various intervals and manages to turn me over without sliding off the table. I will never forget of all the black stuff that was on the table - the dead flesh that has been peeled off my body with some sort of dark scrub.

This continues for about 30 minutes and then there is the not at all soothing massage which is essentially pressure point therapy with no thought to the sensitivities of your body. They wrap you up in a robe and send you on your way. My skin was as soft as a newborn baby’s afterwards.

Land’s End trail mirroring the Pacific Ocean.