Sunday, September 22

1) Not really a great day. At least . . . not a day that went according to plan. I didn’t get anything written, and I certainly didn’t clean anything (except myself). I didn’t go outside until it was time to go to yoga, missing what I gather was a wonderful warm day.

2) instead, I harnessed some energy to start organizing the chaos of the dining room, going through mail and old papers to toss, adding things to the pile for the (eventual) yard sale. I’m tired of eating at a table stacked so high with papers!

2a) The dining room is now very full of my gramma’s dining room furniture, which we’ve learned is from a popular mid-century outfit known as Cushman Colonial: table with two leaves, six chairs, sideboard, china cabinet, footstool (Gramma was very short) . . . and a desk. Gramma always kept in her dining room; Mother kept it with the table and chairs in the her kitchen. I’ve always loved the entire suite, as I’ve always loved everything chosen by Gramma.

2b) I thought the desk had been shipped up empty . . . and I was wrong. One drawer is filled up with old letters, and I might have been responsible for that; I honestly don’t remember. There is another drawer filled with stationery that Mother hadn’t yet used (including half a box of notecards from the Met, which had become a tradition for me to give her). Yet another had a bit more stationery, some correspondence from 2001-2005, and a wooden napkin holder carved as a flower Mother bought in Hawaii in 1977. One drawer contained high school yearbooks for Mother, Daddy, and Uncle Bill.

2c) But the last drawer, to my horror, contains most of my elementary school pictures, as well as (without any horror at all) a bag of 60th wedding anniversary greetings, another bag of Christmas and other greetings, and a box of old letters from when Mother was in college. I was not expecting any of these things!

3) Among those photos was a standup frame of clear plastic with the photo of me at the airport before flying away to freshman year of college. Behind that photo was a photo of me that I do not remember at all - but clearly from 1991, because I remember getting that sweater at ye Yddye Bywyre before the painful phone conversation with my dad about me being gay. I post it here just to prove that, then as now, my hair is really all I have to offer.

3a) “Where were we going that night, Lloyd and I?" The things you remember . . . and the things you don’t.”

Tuesday, August 6: Kenilworth, Day Three - Coventry

1) Coventry is just a ten-minute train from Kenilworth, so we didn’t have to make a very early start. Indeed, it could be said that the day got off in a leisurely way not least because it was Christian’s birthday and he had cards and things to look through.

2) We exited Coventry Station onto a wide plaza populated with walking commuters, and I was seized with the sensation (as the day before leaving Warwick Castle) of wondering if anyone knew where we were going. As it happened we headed into a very modern-industrial-retro coffee shop (all exposed brick and wiring and edison light bulbs) for flat whites and cookies to fuel us for the adventures ahead.

Coventry Town Hall selfie. Observe how carefully I’ve centered myself. :-)

3) Before we got to our first destination, several things were pointed out to me, including Coventry Town Hall. Seeing some graffiti that made me wonder if Banksy had been through, we investigated further. Turns out it’s a portrait memorial to the woman who “realized the theme music” of Doctor Who! Happy thoughts of my friends who are fans of The Doctor.

Not a Banksy, but a memorial to Delia Ann Derbyshire.

4) And finalmente, we entered The Herbert Art Gallery and Museum, a fine vigorous little museum with a vision and perhaps a random collection. Large, interesting exhibition on the history of Coventry featuring local manufactures, fashions, and technology; I was reading with absorption about dial telephones when Christian started blessing me out that we’d come into the exhibition through the wrong entrance and were at the end and not the beginning. So I tore myself away to do it properly. Who knew Coventry had been a center of world ribbon production?!

Rotary phones!

4a) Paul surprised me with a present of a beautifully-mounted section of elaborately woven silk ribbon depicting the old and new Coventry cathedrals. Wow!

5) TECH RANT [please skip ahead if you’d rather not be bothered]. This was my first trip overseas with a smartphone to use as a camera and - as wonderful as the camera on the smartphone is - next time I’ll bring a regular camera that doesn’t have to upload everything into the Stupid Cloud. All the time I was away I had difficult uploading photos, and NOW I swear they all didn’t upload AND they weren’t uploaded in the order in which they were taken. Technology is supposed to make our lives EASIER, isn’t it?! Ridiculous! END TECH RANT.

Naughty!

6) The rest of the museum was notable for an exhibition on the history of Lady Godiva in art (I felt so stupid having forgotten that OF COURSE Lady Godiva took her famous ride through Coventry), the concept of Peace, and one random gallery of random Old Masters. The latter included a cabinet of drawers filled with curiosities, and I’m afraid Paul and I giggled like naughty schoolboys over a scale to weigh gold that appeared to depict bizarre sexual practices.

The hall in the Guild Hall. Those chairs are not period.

7) After a quick pass through the shop (as well as a little stationery shop down the road my friends indulgently allowed me to explore), we passed by the ruins of Coventry Cathedral to tour the Guild Hall. The hall itself is a fine splendid room with some remarkable stained glass and interesting ceiling carvings.

In the words of the late Mame Dennis, '“Perhaps she’ll wake up without her head tomorrow.”

7a) There’s also a Mary Queen of Scots’ Room, as I gather Mary passed through here in custody at one point. I was the first to get the irony of the “Please mind your head” sign on the door. I must say, the stackable banquet chairs in this room were NOT of the Tudor period!

No . . . no, the chairs are NOT period!

7b) When I was little and my parents got us a World Book Encyclopedia, there were two subjects on which i read everything: the Presidents and First Ladies, and Mary Queen of Scots.

Exterior of the Guild Hall courtyard. That overhang is just going to fall off some day.

8) We then repaired to the little café in the basement for lunch: sandwiches and wine, as I recall. The whole place very much like a church hall concession, but with alcohol. We made friends with the barmaid on the way out. Paul and Christian plan to return the next time they’re in Coventry.

The bombed Coventry Cathedral, with the new cathedral to its side.

9) The entrance to the ruined cathedral was just across the way. Thoughtfully and beautifully maintained as a memorial, and as a visible reminder of the need for Peace, I found myself reflecting on the crisis in world leadership all of us face right now.

10) I lingered a bit too long, and Christian and Paul were waiting outside the entrance to the new cathedral for me. Inside, very mid-century (not a style I’m particularly fond of), but I was interested to see how the architects and designers had reimagined traditional forms in new ways or with new materials. This was very much like the interior of Lincoln Center, which took the traditional red-velvet-and-gold theatre interior and did something new with it.

10a) Some sort of drumming/percussion rehearsal was taking place - so restful, so conducive to contemplation. I drifted back to a small, round, very bright chapel filled with an exhibition of Chinese embroidery. Really exquisite pieces, very finely done - the sort of thing I would want to tell Mother all about because she would have loved it - and Gramma, too.

One of the many exquisite embroideries. Sorry about the the reflections.

10b) We stopped in another chapel on the way out, this one filled with exhibitions on social justice and activism, as well as a centerpiece of origami cranes. By this time I was just done with all that drumming and ready to go.

Coventry undergoing repairs.

11) Again, drifting down sidewalks, not clear to me if we had a destination in mind or not, but quite lovely and interesting. And then we found a church much more my style, the Church of the Holy Trinity. Appearing unhampered by anything newer than the late 19th century, in fact the central window had been blown out during the bombing in World War II. Its replacement, rather than something aggressively modern, harmonizes beautifully with the architecture and other elements of the church. It also has the unique feature of a Christ with no facial hair!

A beardless Christ!

12) We took in a couple other sites en route to the train station, but I’m damned if I can find the photos.

The Great Western Window of the Church of the Holy Trinity, Christ in Majesty.

13) I feel sure I had a rejuvenating NAP before what was truly the big event of the day: Christian’s birthday dinner at The Cross, the Michelin-starred restaurant in Kenilworth. They have a dress code, and every time I made an allusion to traveling light in the run-up to the trip, Christian would hasten to remind me not to forget my jacket for this dinner. (I include this because I know Christian will read it and this will make him smile.) And I’m glad I didn’t because it was really nice. (I must say, we three scrubbed up very nicely, too, but I can’t find any photos to prove it.) We walked over - it was only about 15 minutes - and squashed in at a high top for a drink in the bar before dinner. The bar had a low ceiling, so I felt like I had to keep watching my head.

The bar at The Cross.

13a) The dining room where we were seated later, however, was quite spacious. The spirit of Mrs. Moorehead must have been with us, because we were seated next to a towering arrangement of Lovely Rubrums; Christian wisely had them sent away, as the scent really was overpowering after a bit.

“My my, what lovely rubrums!”

13b) I started off with the smoked salmon, and then a salad - both of them looked like Jackson Pollock might have been involved. It was “a little poem of a dinner,” as the chef in O. Henry’s short story The Renaissance at Charleroi might have said - the main course may have been poultry - though the remaining details are a bit hazy due to the excellent wines Christian chose and the passage of time.

Smoked salmon to start.

14) It was a beautiful clear night for a walk home, after a grave threat of rain during the evening (we chose not to risk sitting in the garden), and I believe I fell into bed like a stone.

This is a salad.

Friday, September 20 - The Last Days at Doyle's Begin

1) Since the first announcement came by surprise September 11 that Doyle’s would be closing, the tide of “last-timers” has been swelling ever greater. Shoot, when I went down for a late lunch this afternoon, I saw a large van from the Council on Aging for a town about 20 miles away.

1a) For the most part, these “last-timers” appear to be either very elderly or families with very young children. If any of these people were regulars, it was well before my time.

2) Seriously, the place is jammed. It’s a pity they didn’t announce the closing six months ago, which might’ve generated enough business for them to stay open!

2a) And the noise! Tonight the front room and the center room were like bubbling, simmering pots of soup, the volume at boiling point, but with the occasional bubble of barking and roaring above the din from another part of the room.

3) All this crush today meant that a) I had to eat lunch at the bar, which I have done perhaps only twice before, and b) wait 25 minutes for a table tonight.

4) But once I got seated tonight - at a table in the center room near the old phone booth - the waitress came to me and said “One of Rick’s booths just opened up.” And I dashed for one of my favorite four booths on the other side of the room, and Rick Berlin Himself looked after me.

5) All this “last-timer” traffic has slammed the kitchen, so much so that now they’re only offering a limited menu. At least I can still get my salmon salad with Italian on the side, but there are no club sandwiches of any kind.

Earlier this week - comparatively calm, but full.

6) I am finally reading Seduction: Sex, Lies, and Stardom in Howard Hughes's Hollywood, by Karina Longworth, creator of the You Must Remember This podcast. That’s my thing: I sit in my booth and read and eat my dinner. More than once tonight - more than once at every meal I’ve had there in the last ten days - I’ve been unable to read, only to look up at the air between the ceiling and everyone’s heads, believing but unable to fathom that soon these rooms will no longer exist.

6a) Because it seems inevitable that the future of the site will not include the Doyles building, but yet another condo building, perhaps as tall as five stories. When I think how much trouble the developer behind my home had about ten years ago when he wanted to tear down what had been the Doyle’s stable . . . but I don’t know what the preservationists would think of a building like Doyle’s that gives every appearance of having been “loved to death.”

7) I think some of the staff are still shellshocked. How can they have time to process everything when they are run off their feet by the crowds?

8) I’d say the countdown continues, but no one seems to have an idea of how long we have to count. I am hopeful they can at least make it through Hallowe’en . . . for one thing because my birthday is a few days before Hallowe’en.

The back room.

Saturday, September 14

1) MORNING: Up at seven, parlor coffee and devotional, breakfast, laundry, and two hours of yard work with my third floor neighbor. Mostly we tamed the front hedge and weeded, but the more important task was to add a few bricks into a small space of ground near the front steps.

1a) For about 20 minutes of all this we were really talking with our next-door neighbor, the local handyman, who hadn’t met the new third-floor neighbor - AND happens to be a good friend of the soon-to-be-new owner of the second floor!

2) AFTERNOON: Lunch at home, an adventurous Etiquetteer project (look for it to be posted tomorrow . . . ), and then I slept like the dead for about 90 minutes. Y’know, both my parents mastered the 20-minute nap. Every day of his work life Daddy would come home for lunch and then nap in his recliner for 20 minutes, and go back to work. After he left Mother would have her 20-minute nap. I just cannot nap for that short a time! At least an hour, more often more.

3) Musical obsessions will just seize me, I admit. Because I’m going to see the BLO to I Pagliacci next month, I happened to look up Nedda’s aria, “Qual Fiamma Avea Nel Guardo!... Hui! Stridono Lassù,” and I just can’t let it go. I’m so grateful I found it, because I was being worn out by the musical numbers in Erich von Stroheim’s The Great Gabbo. “Every Now and Then” and the march-tempo “I’m in Love With You” have always been favorites, but damn . . . they were killing me.

Thursday Afternoon, September 12

1) This doesn’t happen often these days, but last night Insomnia wore me out. What a harpy she is!

1a) It’s almost the cocktail hour, but I think I’m going to have to take a good long walk to get through this evening’s assigned tasks.

2) I got some good work done in the archives at the Gibson House, including finding a couple letters relating to a 1911 family wedding at the summer house in Nahant.

3) It is so very gray today! But the cool is welcome.

Wednesday Night, September 11

1) This evening I enjoyed the first of what will surely be an extensive series of farewell dinners at Doyle’s, this with my friend from Lago di Carlo ye Pawylle Hyrtte Myllyre. Over the course of the evening we were speculating about the future of the location (without a liquor license), and a few possibilities came up:

• The Midway across the street could take it over with their liquor license.

• Marijuana dispensary. We already have an MBTA bus yard in the ‘hood, why not something else with pungent fumes, LOL? The parking lots make this seem very likely to me.

• Yoga studio

• Dog kennel (this actually came from my third-floor neighbor)

• Museum of local history with café concession and ability to BYOB. (But don’t we already have the Loring-Greenough House for that?)

• Dry cleaner

1a) I must say, the place was jammed tonight, mostly families with young (loud) children. Haven’t seen a crowd like that on a week night in a long time.

2) Next month I’ll be going to see the BLO’s production if I Pagliacci, which I don’t really know well and have never seen staged. This afternoon I remembered that at one point I’d heard Nedda’s big aria, and sought it out on the Yewtybbe. How beautiful! There’s a point where the orchestra is trembling in romantic excitement, right along with her.

3) Somethin’s blowin’ in the wind . . . and it’s making me sneeze . . . and it’s making me anxious about our national future.

Wednesday Morning, September 11

1) So yesterday was . . . interesting. Things seemed to happen simultaneously, and you know how much I enjoy multitasking. The morning’s pest control inspection, which confirmed an uneasy suspicion, was interrupted by the announcement via text that the second floor sold to a couple that has no children . . . yet. In the afternoon a surprise phone call from someone at Interlochen led to a productive conversation. During it, however, I got the first of many private messages that the unthinkable had become inevitable: DOYLE’S WAS CLOSING.

1a) Now anyone who knows me well knows that I eat at Doyle’s a lot - often twice a week - since I moved into the neighborhood 16 years ago. And even before that, whenever I would come out to JP to visit my friend Michael, I’d want to meet him at Doyle’s. There’s nothing better than one of those small box booths for two in the center room, with a good book or a good friend, for a cocktail and a chat. And it has been there FOREVER.

1b) First they came for Brasserie JO, and I had four farewell dinners there, and mourned, and moved on, ‘cause I no longer lived in the neighborhood. Then they came for Durgin-Park, and well . . . they’d been cooking for the tourists for YEARS, so in spite of its storied career, its actual importance was a myth. NOW, though - DOYLE’S is not just part of the fabric of everyday Boston, it’s part of the fabric of my every day.

1c) I will not miss walking by the bacchanalia of Saint Patrick’s Day, but I will miss the hoopla of the annual road race.

2) Up late this morning, back porch coffee and for devotional, this essay called “Life Is Short.” Quotable Quote: “The things that matter aren't necessarily the ones people would call "important." Having coffee with a friend matters. You won't feel later like that was a waste of time.”

3) Accomplishing a little task, especially one that’s been put off, can make you feel great. For years we have not had proper name plates over our doorbells. When I was in London I found exactly what I wanted at a “traditional” hardware store on Kensington High Street. Yesterday waiting for the pest control inspector I finally tacked them into place, and it feels great to have that done now.

Tuesday Morning, September 10

1) Parlor coffee and devotional. This morning I began with Mother’s Interpreter’s Bible, in which I was directed to Timothy II. Among other verses, Mother had underlined 2:24-25: “A servant of our Lord must not quarrel, but be gentle to all men, apt at teaching and patient, So that he may discipline gently those who argue against him; and perhaps God will grant them repentance and they will know the truth.”

1a) This had added resonance for me today, having learned last night of an event put on by a Prominent Conservative Organization called Bring Your Bible to School Day. Now Freedom of Religion is one thing - a valuable freedom in a nation of freedoms - but carrying a Bible shouldn’t be the first, second, or even third way to identify yourself as a Christian. Aren’t Christians supposed to be easily recognized by their behavior? Doesn’t the hymn go “And they’ll know we are Christians by our love?”

1b) This also reminds me that Mother was fond of quoting “A soft answer turneth away wrath.”

2) Cushman Colonial rock maple.

3) At home today - the pest control people are coming midday - but then a Gibson House benefit committee tonight will bring me into town.

Monday Evening, September 9

1) Today started my first full week at home since I left ye Instytytte at the end of July. I’d be scared to death if I wasn’t so sleepy.

1a) So I am actually going to be at home next weekend - and I will be holding a yard sale Saturday morning! Look soon for more details.

2) This morning, writing to a friend, I had occasion to remember the central message of Kathleen Tessaro’s novel Elegance: “Never be seduced by anything that isn’t first-rate.” This evening, reading the news, I considered that’s never more true than when thinking of one’s leaders, political or otherwise - but especially political. “Never be seduced by anything that isn’t first-rate.”

3) I was at a yoga weekend at the home of friends in Vermont - just got back last night - and it reinforced what I already knew - Daddy has to get to work! Oof!

Friday Morning, September 6

“I ran away . . . and these kind friends have taken me in. I wanted to be quiet and think things over.” — the Countess Olenska, The Age of Innocence, by Edith Wharton

1) Today is a Friday that feels like a Saturday. I drove up to Vermont last night with one of my friends who is hosting an informal yoga weekend. Soaking in a hot tub at midnight looking at more stars than one can see in the city, a line of trees in the distance backlit by the lights of a distant town - it’s all so beautiful and so remote.

2) There are three of us here right now - my hosts and myself - each of us operating independently about our own business. Unfortunately for me that is mostly brooding about having caused offense to someone (not to anyone here) whose attitude has changed and now resembles Prince Albert’s to his uncle after his marriage to Queen Victoria: “You will confine yourself to family matters.” And yet there are so many more practical things that require my attention . . . and I have this glorious day in the beautiful beautiful place in which to accomplish things!

3) This morning with my first cup of coffee in hand I saw a flock of 19 turkeys of different sizes stalking into a field! And just now a hummingbird flitting and hovering by the large windows. To me these are harbingers of a good weekend to come.

Wednesday, September 4 - Manderley

“We can never go back to Manderley. But sometimes, in my dreams, I do go back.” — the second Mrs. DeWinter, Rebecca, by Daphne du Maurier

Today I’ve had occasion to remember places from my past, for different reasons.

1) Over the weekend my sister and I accepted an offer on the house in Lago di Carlo. I knew I would not be returning when I left in March, of course. And that house - that house as the home of our parents - ceased to exist when it was emptied. Oddly, right now my memory seizes on obscure, inconsequential things: the way the inside of the front hall closet smelled, where all the slide carousels were stacked up over the coats, including Daddy’s brown leather coat; the sound made by the sliding doors of the craft supplies cabinet, the extra brightness of the lights in the master bedroom, the stickpins Mother put in the curtains in that room to be sure that they’d be completely closed. That house was not my childhood home, but I spent two to three weeks total there almost every year since 1986, and I knew all its corners, and most idiosyncracies of most of the lightswitches. I knew it was coming, but it closes a chapter even more firmly.

2) Everyone has places they go back to that were important to them earlier in life, for any number of reasons. One of those places is no longer available to me (with apologies for the vagueness, I just don’t want to get into specifics), and since the news was sudden and quite unexpected, it’s hard to adjust.

3) From Rebecca, also in the clip linked above: “Moonlight can play odd tricks upon the fancy.” And that is kind of how I feel right now. Memory and Suddenness are taking me . . . well, it’s like looking into the folds of curtains. You see things that aren’t always seen, but they’ve always been there.

Thursday Morning, August 29

1) Up late (for me) at 7 AM. I am still in this interim period of vacation. With a couple out-of-town weekends still to come, staying at home during the week still feels like time off and not what it really is, my New Life. I expect the full horror of it will become apparent on Monday, September 9.

2) The morning’s devotional included a reading from an orange-and-gold etiquette book I found at ye Bryttle Bykke Shoppe a year or so ago, A Book of Courtesy: The Art of Living with Yourself and Others by Sister Mary Mercedes, O.P., lovingly updated for their 50th reunion by the Dominican Convent Upper School Class of 1950. The flap of the dust jacket had been left on the first page of a chapter on Friendships. “You choose your pleasures, your books, and your occupations, but you do not choose your friends; you only discover them.” And I have made so many wonderful discoveries in my life, and I want to be worthy of them.

3) As I am fond of quoting Zippy the Pinhead, “Frivolity is a stern taskmaster,” which means today needs to be focused on packing for the Cape!

Monday, August 5: Kenilworth, Day Two

I now resume my account of my summer vacation in England. Our last episode ended with my arrival in Kenilworth and being welcomed into the home of my dear friends Paul and Christian for a week’s stay seeing the sites of Warwickshire.

1) Today’s destination was Warwick Castle, family seat of the Grevilles (who became Earls of Warwick) from 1604 until 1978 when it was sold to a . . . to an entertainment concern. We caught the train from Kenilworth to Leamington Spa, where we were to transfer to another train to Warwick, but alas, there was some sort of track or signalling issue, trains were slowed, and we missed our connection. Which was just fine, because there was a good old-fashioned doubledecker English bus going our way after only a short wait, and I had my very first ride on the top of a doubledecker bus in England!

2) Once we disembarked in Warwick we popped into a little Portuguese bakery for flat white coffees and a bit of pastry. I bravely withstood pressure to get some tee-tiny Portuguese pastry in favor of the black and white sponge frosted with chocolate. This little pause strengthened us to press on to the castle.

3) I’d been warned that the castle was run a bit along the lines of ye Ylde Renaissance Fayre, so I was prepared for That Sort of Thing. But en route I suddenly remembered (and why would I have forgotten?!) that this was the site of Daisy Countess of Warwick’s super-elaborate weekend house parties that often included Edward VII . . . and where Lady Randolph Churchill (née Jennie Jerome) met her handsome, much younger husband George Cornwallis-West, so I was all for it.

Note the fabulous alabaster urns on the mantelpiece, dramatically lit from within.

Rather a ghastly subject, but I guess it could be a conversation starter!

4) On site, we immediately bypassed all that jousting and dungeons and medieval meat pasty business and went almost directly to the interior tour (mercifully self-guided). This was divided into two sections: what I would call the “state rooms,” formal chambers with some grand portraits as well as a state bedchamber including furniture belonging to Queen Anne (and the bed she died in!); and the Royal Weekend Party, a suite of rooms in Victorian/Edwardian style representing of Daisy Countess’s house parties - complete with piped in music and commentary, and wax figures of all the famous guests.

Young Winston Churchill at right. I very much fear that’s Trog in the background stealing a box of cigars.

5) After that, we explored the grounds and the beautiful gardens a bit. I noted how the peacocks tended to confine themselves behind hedges . . . where the tourists couldn’t get at them.

Note peacock at left. The gardens really were splendid.

6) We left the castle and wandered a bit until Paul (or was it Christian?) discovered an almost-abandoned restaurant in an inn, very severe, very minimalist. But good sandwiches and good wine added to the already good company!

St. Mary’s Tower.

7) After what felt like aimless wandering through many twists and turns, we ended up at the Collegiate Church of St. Mary, which was more interesting than Warwick Castle in some ways. My Dimmick cousins might (or might not) care to know that this is the ancestral church of our distinguished cousin George Washington. It’s also the final resting place of Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, and his redoubtable second wife Lettice Knollys, mother of that deranged but beautiful hothead Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex.

8) At this point we drifted back into some square that included - oh joy! - an independent bookstore! The boys were very patient as I browsed, waiting outside as I found the perfect book to buy on this trip: a paperback of James Pope-Hennessey’s official biography of Queen Mary! (You’ll recall that I prepared for the trip by reading The Quest for Queen Mary, Pope-Hennessey’s interview notes with most of royal Europe.)

9) Flushed with this triumph, at this point we headed into a pub on the square, the interior all purple and shudder gilded exposed brick. That was a bit taxing even for my love of the garish!

10) Train back home, and at this point I forget what we did for dinner, but it was low key and at home and perfectly delightful.

Seen at Kenilworth Station.

Thursday Morning, August 22

1) Retirement nothing! Up at 6:21, and have since managed

• Devotional and coffee

• Breakfast

• Two Lovely Notes of Thanks

• Paid bills

• Hauled a passel of clothes to the dry cleaners

• Visited the bank

• Collected a newly-framed painting at the framer’s

• Finished two loads of laundry

2) Having the freedom to change my plans, it’s just too hot to go into town today. I’ll be writing from home this afternoon.

3) This morning’s devotional included a brief section on French bergamot from Beston’s Herbs and the Earth.

Sunday-Wednesday, August 18-21: New York, From Debarkation to Departure

1) I didn’t sleep particularly well after my last dinner aboard the Queen Mary II. Not because of the food (exceptional - although the wine disagreed with me that night), but because the next day was a travel day - debarkation, and transfer to a Manhattan hotel. Besides which, I didn’t want to miss the moment when the ship sailed under the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge! So about 4:15ish I just GOT OUT OF BED, struggled into some clothes, and went up to the top deck.

1a) It will not surprise you to learn that I was one of the first passengers there, if not the first.

2) The line of green navigational buoys fascinated me, as well as the lights gathering on the shores around us, and the dim necklace of the bridge coming inexorably closer. As more and more passengers arrived, I confess I got more and more excited about the events to come.

2a) And when the moment finally DID come, when the antennae-thingies on top of that thing that isnt a funnel actually cleared the bridge, applause broke out!

This the best I could do, people. :-)

3) Next, sailing within view of the Statue of Liberty, which I found deeply moving. The phrase “I lift my lamp beside the golden door” was all I could think of from that famous poem, but for me that was somehow the most important part - especially considering the Current State of Things.

4) Packing done, breakfast in the dining room, finally leaving my cabin with my bags of anvils, waiting in the Grand Lobby to debark. Conversing with an elderly Englishwoman who remembered traveling on the liners in the Old Days.

5) I’d signed up for self-debarkation, indicating that I was both able-bodied AND able to carry ALL my baggage. They made it really clear that NO porters would be available to assist. So dragging my anvils behind me, I exited the ship, negotiated Customs (really just a lot of waiting in line), and then found Hilary from High School waiting for me outside.

6) We negotiated getting a cab (Hilary took a bit of flak from a limo driver, but we were only interested in the Lowest Priced Spread) and spent the trip in reviewing the week that was, talking about the city and high school friends, and talking with the cabbie.

7) At my hotel, we had breakfast in a bordello banquette upholstered in ice-pink crushed velvet, and then we parted - Hilary to meet friends, me to get settled and figure out What the Hell I’m Going to Do With My Life.

8) Really, I was mostly comatose on Sunday, but rejoicing that I had reliable internet access again. I dined at a nearby pub, but otherwise barely left the hotel.

9) Monday, after a late-for-me start I went over to the Met to see the Camp exhibition. For a change I actually walked in the correct direction after leave the 77th Street station!

9a) The exhibition, which is fabulous, was punctuated by a mysterious text about lunch. Turns out it was from a volunteer from ye Instytytte who had tracked me down! And we had a very swish luncheon in the trustee’s dining room (or whatever it’s called) and great conversation over shrimp risotto.

9b) The three “gasp OH MY GOD” moments at the Met were a) one of Carmen Miranda’s headdresses in the Camp exhibition, Thomas Hart Benton’s “Life in America” mural (or whatever its proper name is), and, after lunch, three cases of Fabergé from the Matilda Geddings Gray Foundation! This is important because Matilda was a Lake Charles Girl and her relative Opal Gray was a dear friend of my Granny Dimmick.

10) Monday evening it was off to my beloved Café Luxembourg for dinner with two friends. Since this was something of an Occasion I struggled into full canonicals: seersucker suit, new shirt with French cuffs, and my white bucks (no longer so painful). As Jane the maid said in The Women, “[They had] a very gay dinner party!”

11) Tuesday I checked out of my hotel, stashed my bags with the bellman, and headed off first on an abortive exploration of the Garment District for White Party ideas, and then a visit to the New-York Historical Society to view their Pride exhibition (fabulous, unsurprisingly). What an impressive museum! And my two “gasp OH MY GOD” moments there were a) Cole Porter’s piano from the Waldorf-Astoria, and b) Thomas Cole’s series of five paintings The Course of Empire. WOW! I have always loved Thomas Cole since I first saw The Stages of Man (or whatever it’s called) at the National Gallery in 1980, and this series was very important to see right now.

11b) Overall, NYHS is worth your time. I was very impressed with everything but the shop.

12) Then it was back to the Luxembourg for luncheon. The waiter from the previous night came over to thank me for coming back! I lunched with an artist whose painting I bought in Provincetown last month, and I must say, good stories (his) and good French food (and three aperol spritzes) made two hours pass quickly.

12a) The Paris-Brest dessert is a must. It sent me to heaven.

13) By this time it was late afternoon, and I boarded the subway at 72nd Street to head up to Harlem to a friend’s from the Pastel Prison days. In the evening we went out to dine at a lovely nearby farm-to-table restaurant with fabulous service. I was shown a but of Obscure Harlem after dinner, including - and here is another “gasp OH MY GOD” moment - Straus Park, the home of the memorial fountain to Ida and Isidor Straus, who drowned together when the Titanic sank! Originally this monument, paid for by employees of Macy’s, was outside the Memorial Entrance of the NYC flagship store; I looked for it there years ago and couldn’t find it. I was overjoyed to find it in Harlem, which was ( think) near where their NYC home was.

14) Wednesday morning I headed to Bryant Park for coffee dates, first with an old high school friend, and then with a new high school friend which extended into lunch. Both these visits were so grounding for me, beautiful opportunities to catch up and think about my New Life, which really begins tomorrow.

15) The rest of the afternoon I spent in the ClubAcela Room at Penn Station, hot and sweaty.

16) As I write this, I’m on the train home (indulging in first class) with a near bottomless gin-and-tonic, excitement at getting to sleep in my own bed for the first time in three weeks, and deep gratitude for everyone who made this unusually long vacation extra special: Paul and Christian in Kenilworth (of which more later), Hilary on board the ship, Travis in New York, and all the friends I got to spend time with: Karen, Jonathan and William, Kurt, Anthony, and Austin.

17) Tomorrow, my new life really begins! Holy merde, what am I gonna do?!

Thursday, August 15: Queen Mary II, Day Four

1) Awake at 6 AM. I’d left the curtains open all night, and could see the solid fog without getting out of bed. But I did get out of bed, to get some fresh air on my little balcony. Lo and behold, through the fog - a speck of rose. The dawn! I hurried into some clothes and went up on deck.

2) Today I made a conscious decision not to be in my cabin so much. I breakfasted in the restaurant (I must say, I wasn’t really impressed with the eggs Benedict), strolled about, and saw a bit more of the ship than hitherto.

3) And I was early for one of the ship’s programs that really appealed to me, a Q&A with English National Ballet soloist James Streeter. Recalling the lines of everyone anxious for a good seat at tea, I showed up 30 minutes in advance with my copy of Queen Bees (a history of London society hostesses between the World Wars - because of course), and was able to get a front row center seat with zero difficulty.

4) Mr. Streeter is that special creature, a dancer who can engage verbally with an audience. The ship’s entertainment director interviewed him, and Mr. Streeter just took the ball and ran with it every time! I was especially pleased with his account of dancing at the Opéra Garnier in Paris and having to adjust to their steeply raked stage. He was also very candid about dancing with his wife, who is a principal in the ENB.

4a) The floor was then opened to questions - and they picked me for the last question! Having read that one of his favorite roles was in William Forsythe’s In the Middle, Somewhat Elevated, and having seen that several times when I worked at the Pastel Prison, I mentioned that people sometimes thought of it as a stylized gang rumble and asked whether or not an “us vs. them” vibe had come up in the rehearsal process. Mr. Streeter delighted us all with his response, first talking about how he met Mr. Forsythe, but then that there was no us vs. them in the rehearsals, just one Company working together, and how wonderful Forsythe was to work with.

5) Luncheon in the dining room: cock a leekie soup, a burger (!), and chocolate opera cake. Mmphgh!

6) I did, I had to have a NAP for about an hour, and then I went off to a piano recital in the planetarium (a most Art Deco space; I rather hope its interior is based on the original Queen Mary). This was music of the Romantics: Chopin, Schubert, Liszt, Schumann. I wish he’d chosen some more pyrotechnical pieces, but I was enchanted to hear Liszt’s “Rossignol” for the first time.

7) Then late to Tea in the Queen’s Room, but it was the string quartet today. That poor harpist . . . poor thing, she can’t be heard over the din! Again I had managed a corner banquette on my own, but was happy to share with another straight couple in their 70s (they’re always straight, and always in their 70s) who were jovial conversationalists.

7a) We were all startled to hear the captain’s voice over the PA system; the musicians stopped playing and all conversation ceased. Silent surprise at his news that the ship had changed course slightly to accommodate a medical evacuation by helicopter! All decks were to be cleared immediately, including individual balconies, until the evacuation was complete. No idea what happened or the prognosis, but of course it’s a subject of shipboard conversation now.

8) People are always surprised that I have a socially anxious side; I joke that I have to know at least 60% of the people in the room to be comfortable. So until today I hadn’t joined the LGBT social hour (though my high school classmate on board had been encouraging me). A very pleasant hour passed, with the help of two aviation cocktails that completely coordinated with my outfit, with some very interesting and amusing gentlemen - some of whom had been at the dance program earlier in the day.

9) Dinner: smoked salmon terrine, sirloin steak, a light red wine, and a Valhrona chocolate fondant cake. “Well, we heard your question to the dancer, but I’d have known it was you because of your voice.” Everyone at the table had had an interesting day for different reasons, so the conversation was good - and we didn’t get mired in politics like last night, which just left me feeling so depressed.

10) So now I’m snugly back in my cabin listening to the sea rush past, ready to enjoy another day tomorrow.

August 4-5, 2019: London, Day Three and Kenilworth, Day One

Sunday, August 4: London to Kenilworth

1) Over breakfast at the hotel I suddenly noticed dozens, and then hundreds, of bicyclists zooming by. Turns out there was some Big Important Bike Thing in London that Sunday, and I was going to get to witness part of it. The full import of this didn’t hit me until I left the hotel to visit Sir John Soane’s Museum - and couldn’t cross the street to get to the tube. Oops!

1a) What to do? My timed entry at Sir John’s was 10:30 AM, and you know how much I hate to be late in the first place. So I just started walking up Cromwell Street, watching all the cyclists, hearing snatches of their conversations, and feeling my heart stop when pedestrians did rush across the street. I’ve seen those bicycle fail videos when a child or a dog runs into traffic and you get a 100-bike pileup. I’m not gonna be responsible for that! This became so absorbing that I barely realized I was passing Harrod’s when poof! There appeared Knightsbridge tube station and I was able to get on the train to Holborn.

2) I didn’t realize that Sir John’s was on the park known as Lincoln’s Inn Fields, and I kept trying to remember that naughty poem from History Laid Bare:

A lovely young heiress from Lincoln’s Inn Fields,

Brisk, beautiful, wealthy, and witty,

So blabbity blabbity blabbity blah

’Tis feared she’ll unpeople the city.

The sparks and the beaux all languish and die

Blah blabbity blabbity blabbity blah blah

But one little marksman with one little eye

Might wound her heart deeper than any.

2a) After all that bother, I still had time to walk about this beautiful little park, dotted here and there with men who appeared to be vagrants who’d slept there overnight. Indeed, one of them appeared to be getting some assistance leaving. Wide green lawns, not too many flowers, surrounded by some truly beautiful buildings.

3) I must say, Sir John Soane’s Museum is the very BEST museum experience I’ve ever had, and this solely because of the staff. Friendly (but not too friendly), understanding, firm, highly knowledgeable, and obviously devoted to this unique institution. I was especially impressed with the young lady in the Picture Room who interpreted both cycles of Hogarth paintings, the more famous “Rake’s Progress” (which is so very sad) and “The Election,” of which I hadn’t heard.

3a) If you go (I think you must!) don’t bring anything with you, and expect NOT to take any photographs and to be told to turn off your cell phone completely.

4) How did I even first hear this odd little place? Did someone tell me about it? Was it an obscure reference in The Swimming-pool Library? Regardless, I was overjoyed to have made the time to visit. Sir John was an architect who created a museum in the back of his home to train students of architecture. It’s stuffed with plaster casts and all sorts of fragments of the ancient world, stained glass, skylights, and pictures. There’s even an Egyptian sarcophagus! I found it helpful to be as thin as I was; the museum half of the house (at the back) is narrow in the extreme. In the residence, there’s at least room to stretch your arms, along with bold colors, creative arrangements, and (to my eye) a real sense of Regency elegance.

5) Suffering a bit from museum overload, I repaired to a nearby restaurant for a spritz and an early lunch. All Bar One was nearly empty, but they gave me a remarkably good club sandwich. And I could start reading the books I acquired in the museum shop.

6) I spent the afternoon writing in the hotel lobby, and took a taxi to Euston Station, where I stood about for half an hour reading a book from Sir John’s gift shop and waiting for my train platform to be announced. Just like home . . .

7) For this one-hour journey to Coventry I splurged and went first class. I was the only passenger in the car! Fabulous.

8) Paul and Christian were right at the door of my carriage to receive me and get me to the correct platform for the connecting train to Kenilworth. My first sight of them in the flesh in three years, since they came to visit me in Boston.

9) Kenilworth is a delightful small town, and after the clamminess of London we had cool weather for a long, looong walk of twists and turns to their little house. We spent the evening in over a light supper and inspirational rioja (Marques de Murrietta Reserva 2014) and didn’t get to bed until late.

Monday, August 5: Kenilworth, Day One - Warwick Castle

1) After breakfast of fruit, yogurt, and coffee, off to our first tourist destination, Warwick Castle. The trains were running at less than half speed due to a signalling problem, so we missed our connecting train. Solution: a bus! And it came within ten minutes of our arrival wherever it was we arrived (Leamington Spa?). And for the first time I got to ride on the top of an English double-decker bus!

2) We stopped for cake and coffee at a little Portuguese bakery, completely charming. And then the hike commenced to the castle.

3) Paul had given the castle guide to read at home. Of course I’d completely forgotten that this was the arena for Daisy, Countess of Warwick’s lavish house parties for Edward VII. One of the more recent Earls of Warwick sold castle to a Big Entertainment Concern decades ago, I was saddened to read, so the environment was perhaps just a whisper too much Renaissance fair; we didn’t go check out the jousting.

3a) The self-guided castle tour consisted of two parts: the Great Hall and a wing of old State apartments and formal rooms (including the bed in which Queen Anne died), and “Weekend House Party 1898,” a suite of late Victorian rooms populated with lifelike wax figures of the earl and Countess Daisy and their houseguests, including Edward, Prince of Wales, the widowed Lady Randolph Churchill (and her son Winson), and her future husband George Cornwallis-West, among others. It was interesting to contrast this experience with that of my 2013 tour of Castle Howard, where the Howard family still owns the place and has truly embraced the idea of running their Stately Home of England as a business.

4) Once sprung from the house, We hiked a bit through the grounds, which offered some commanding views, as well as peacocks in the garden. I noticed the peacocks mostly kept to themselves by remaining within low ornamental hedges and not strutting about where people could get near them.

5) Paul found a nearby hotel pub, painted a restful sage and nearly deserted, where we enjoyed a sandwich and a glass of wine and the satisfaction that almost no one else was there.

6) Our afternoon continued with more random walking, and then happening upon St. Mary’s Church, where the famous Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, is buried, along with his second wife Lettice Knollys, who was the mother of Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex. Lovely church, including many memorials made of hand-knitted poppies. The church is also the home/official church of a particular regiment.

7) A bookstore in a nearby square also attracted attention, and i was overjoyed to find a paperback copy of James Pope-Hennessey’s official biography of Queen Mary! Having just read In Quest of Queen Mary, a book of his interview notes with Royal and other subjects for this biography, I was delighted to get to read what all the fuss was about.

8) We had a pint in a nearby pub, lots of exposed brick painted gold and velvet upholstery - garish even by my permissive standards, and Paul said it was something like a whore’s boudoir.

August 3, 2019: London, Day Two

1) Awake at 6:30 in the morning - just like home. Then hotel breakfast - I’d forgotten how extensive European hotel breakfast buffets are - and off for the day at bit after 9 AM.

2) Today turned out to be all about Cromwell Road, as my two destinations were both on it: the Victoria and Albert Museum and Harrod’s. On my first trip to London in 1988 (for Christmas with the family), I got a total of 45 whole minutes at the V&A and wanted very much to correct that. I also remembered shopping at Harrod’s on that trip.

3) With something like half an hour until the museum opened, I continued strolling and soon came to the Brompton Oratory, which I gather is one of the most famous Catholic churches in London. I did go in, not just to see the church, but to pray in the back, and to light a candle for some dear friends who are going through difficult times.

3a) It’s quite the polychrome old barn, with the sound of a mumbling priest coming from behind a corner. Almost no one there besides myself but two or three older ladies wearing white lace mantillas and sneakers.

Mary!

4) Finalmente, the museum opened. Chaos! Everyone so eager to get inside and stand in the way! I enjoyed every moment, but the one gasping “Oh my God!” moment was not the amethysts in the jewelry exhibition, but the needlework of Mary, Queen of Scots Herself! I had read about these examples of her embroidery in Stefan Zweig’s biography of her, but certainly wasn’t thinking about finding them there. Also a portrait of her just before her first marriage, a radiantly beautiful young lady.

One example of Mary’s remarkable needlework, photographed to minimize reflections.

5) The V&A doesn’t have a proper restaurant, only cafeterias. Since I didn’t really want to tote a tray about, I left the museum and continued down Cromwell until I found an interesting establishment full of empty square burgundy velvet sofas with black-and-gold glass tables, and a couple parties smoking water pipes near the entrance. I enjoyed good coffee and a lamb shwarma over The Economist.

A Harrod’s ceiling.

6) Touring Harrod’s is very much like touring the V&A. At each you walk through obstructing crowds in overdecorated rooms to admire beautiful things you can’t afford. At least at the V&A you get a map! I paid much more attention to the décor this time, but mostly I noticed the claustro low ceilings. In the men’s section a nice young woman studying fashion helped me find socks - fabulous.

I was thinking of this for my post-renovation kitchen, but they didn’t have a reproduction in the gift shop.

7) Then it was back to the V&A for more. “Well, they have Art over here, and that’s what we come for,” says the tired American tourist in Ruth Draper’s monologue “A Church in Italy.” But I did get a few decorating ideas . . .

I would totally have this in my home!

7a) . . . and got to appreciate more the idea of a Cabinet of Curiosities, something I’ve always wanted to attempt on my own.

One of many wonderful cabinets.

7b) How I would have loved to share the china section with my grandmother! She loved pretty things so much, and I have certainly inherited that taste.

8) My feet had enough, so after negotiating the shops I ankled back to my hotel for an enormous NAP of one hour.

9) Dinner at a place not far from the hotel called Scoff and Banter. Antonio, my waiter, didn’t really know what a rye manhattan was, but the result was still drinkable. Gin-and-lime marinated salmon was perhaps a bit too much for me, but a perfect steak with rosemary red wine sauce, broccolini, and grilled cherry tomatoes still on their stems. Antonio then steered me to the sticky toffee dessert, which turned out to be the only possible choice. Heaven!

10) In for the night early, and that’s OK!

A powerfully impressive work.

August 1-2, 2019 - London, Day One

1) This long-contemplated vacation - initiated before I made the decision to leave ye Instytytte - finally became reality when I called ye Yber to bring me to the airport. England! and then a week-long crossing on the Queen Mary II! And yet I approached the day rather calmly, and even chaired a condo association meeting an hour before departure.

1a) Always I forget to pack something. This time it was my night guard. At least I have dental wax and oil of cloves in my bag in case a dental calamity results.

2) Waiting in the terminal after an early dinner, I marveled at the number of tiny, noisy children planning to travel by plane overnight.

3) Of the flight over, its painful tedium was over quickly and is now almost forgotten. But I didn’t sleep a bit.

4) A friend kindly advised me about ye Hethrywe Express train from the airport, which turned out to be the perfect way to get into the city. And then a taxi from Paddington brought me to my hotel, ye Xynia in Kensington (chose for its proximity to the V&A). I had to keep reminding myself that they drive on the left here. Some of the streets were so narrow I’m sure we got through them because the taxi only had one coat of lacquer.

4a) The hotel’s name put me in mind of the only person I’d ever heard of of that name, Nicholas II’s sister the Grand Duchess Xenia, pronounced ZEEN-ya. So of course I kept thinking of Gene Kelly in The Pirate singing “Nina,” but substituting the Grand Duchess’s name and scandalizing her.

4a.1) Fanny Holtzman (most remembered to history as Gertrude Lawrence’s lawyer - I suspect several of you have just said “Who?” twice - was also the Grand Duchess’s lawyer when she sued Hollywood over the film Rasputin. Fanny, meeting her for the first time over luncheon at Frogmore, made a good impression. At some point in the conversation Fanny asked “But what am I to call you?” All the courtiers present turned in horror. One didn’t call Royalty anything other than “Sir” or “Ma’am” after the initial greeting by title! After a tense pause, the Grand Duchess responded kindly “You may call me Xenia,” making Fanny perhaps the only commoner ever offered the privilege.

5) After a quick lunch, I set out to find Leighton House, a 15-minute walk away. My Interlochen friend Bootsie just returned from England about a month ago, and he had begged me to visit it. “I think you might be the reincarnation of Frederick Lord Leighton,” he wrote. “When I was in his house all I could think about was how much [you] would LOVE this.”

5a) How right he was! Of course any house that incorporated healthy doses of Orientalism, bold color, and bronze reductions of male nudes beautifully lit by skylights would naturally inspire me, but this house really sings. I was born to live in this house! The only thing that mars it now is a profusion of NO PHOTOGRAPHY signs.

5b) Also, pine cones in all the chairs - undoubtedly to keep people from sitting in them, but one does rather think of Fraulein Maria complaining about her rheumatism.

The Arab Room seen from outside.

5c) And I would certainly replace the fountain in the Arab Room with a hot tub.

6) Drifting down Kensington High Street afterward, I noted Holland Park for its references in a) Alan Hollinghurst’s wonderful novel The Swimming-pool Library, and b) the BBC documentary Debutantes.

Sculpture in the garden at Leighton House.

7) And then, shopping!

7a) I spotted a curious sign: “Traditional Hardware Store,” or some such. And I thought, “Aha! Perhaps they’ll have what I’ve been looking for all these years.” And they did! Brass business-card frames to nail by the doorbells at home. Finalmente, our bells can now be identified.

7b) And quite by chance there was a Waterstone’s there, which made me long for the one that used to be on Exeter and Newbury where the Exeter Street Theatre used to be. And quite by chance I found the perfect book: Adrian Tinniswood’s The Long Weekend: Life in the English Country House Between the Wars.

8) I tend not to be that adventurous about food when I travel, so after a long NAP I dined at the hotel with The Economist and a glass of light wine. And then slept like a champ.

Me in the garden at Leighton House.

Wednesday, July 31 - The Last Day

“Did you see them?! Did you see how they came?!”

- Norma Desmond, Sunset Boulevard (1950)

1) This afternoon was my farewell party - or “retirement” party, depending on how official you want to get - back at ye Instytytte. My last day in the office was actually last week, but for a lot of different reasons, this worked out to be the best day. And that was perfect, because having a couple days out of the office sharpened my pleasure at seeing everyone.

2) I was really deeply uncomfortable knowing anything about the arrangements - if people are taking the trouble to honor you, it’s best to be grateful, not particular or fussy (though I have sometimes been known to be fussy) - but I did suggest holding it in the Bush Room since I used to manage it 300 years ago, and they did. And they arranged it beautifully.

2a) They used a caterer I use frequently for this affair, and they included my VERY FAVORITE hors d’oeuvres they do: smoked salmon macarons!

2b) “And champagne, my dear.”

3) Someone cc:d me on the invitation, the work of a young colleague, all seersucker and champagne, “A Perfectly Proper Farewell.” And they used it for the sign outside the room, too!

4) Long age in the late 1990s one of the executive secretaries retired and her very large party was held at Walker Memorial. What impressed me most about that party was not its size or venue, but that the guest of honor stood near the door and greeted everyone personally - a receiving line of one. And I was determined to do that, to thank everyone personally for coming.

4a) And I did, and it was wonderful.

5) As Dmitri Weissman said in Follies, “So many of you came! I am astounded.” Current colleagues, former colleagues, old friends (“Vera, my old, old, OLD friend!”), allies from other departments, and representatives of the Most Wanted Class. There may have been a hundred or so people there.

6) The invitation said to wear seersucker, bow ties, and hats, and several people did, which was a delight! I love a good dress code! I, of course, wore my full canonicals for summer: seersucker suit, bow tie (given to me last year by a beloved volunteer), new white bucks (and they are killing me!) with blue laces, and a white panama edged in blue and gray. And I remembered to accessorize with my my 25-year pin and my RBD/MIT silver cufflinks from when I left the first time 20 years ago.

With Original Boss. Like my shoes? They are the cruel shoes!

7) Eventually they called me to the front of the room so that the speaking could start. They had a chair for me at a table with the CEO (as I said, my shoes were killing me, so I was SO grateful), and then we heard from Original Boss, who remembered our early years together a bit differently from the way I did ;-) ; Most Recent Boss, Dear Friend Former Boss, and Office Wife, who made a beautiful presentation; and the CEO, who said that it was so appropriate that I started my MIT career in Room 10-110, because so often I had been a perfect 10 for the Association. (I very nearly lost my composure that this point.)

With Dear Friend Former Boss.

8) And then I was called to the microphone myself, and it was clear that the audience had been set up to anticipate something special. Now that it’s all over, I’m trying not to obsess about whose name I might have left out! Yes, this was a chance to be funny, to be candid, but more to be grateful. I felt shaky - had to take my glasses off to read my notes - missed some bits, allowed myself to improv elsewhere. This was no small thing after so many years. “Always leave ‘em laughing” is the old showbiz advice, and I think I did.

8a) I fully expected to end up full-on weeping - I even brought two handkerchiefs! - but nary a tear somehow. I came close, though, a couple times.

8b) As planned, I closed quoting Hattie McDaniel at the 1939 Oscars - because of course! “My heart is too full to tell you just how I feel, and may I say thank you, and God bless you.”

9) After all that speaking, this party wound down like so many others: jokes, hugs, fond final farewells, and lots of good wishes. And I left with a big bag full of gifts, a scrapbook of photos and personal greetings (which I read as soon as I got earlier - so very touching), a special message on a black piano key - and the sign!

10) My dear friend Davide came (he’s actually an alumnus), and he spirited me off to a diner de luxe afterward, where we got to catch up.

11) At the end of the day, I can hardly believe that this thing I have anticipated so much for no little time has come to pass. “Lo, all our pomp of yesterday Is one with Nineveh and Tyre!” as Rudyard Kipling used to say. I can hardly believe so many people were there! I can absolutely believe how beautifully it was done, because my colleagues do wonderful work.

11a) And I can believe all too well that I’m leaving for England tomorrow and haven’t started packing!

One view of the room. As soon as I got to the microphone I took photos of the assembly. And this isn’t even everyone. What a great turnout!