L. Frank Baum, the author of the Wizard of Oz, spent a short time here in town as a student at the Peekskill Military Academy. (Being a loosey -goosey creative sort, he hated it.)
At this point in the city’s history, the roads were paved with bricks. Yellow Ones. Peekskill was a somewhat serious port in those days, and Belgian ships would bring over yellow bricks as ballast, before they headed home with their iron products manufactured here in Peekskill. (I’m sure you can see where I’m going with this.)
When the pavement wears through and large potholes happen, we frequently get down to the yellow brick road.
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Well, you can imagine. Many Peekskill folks have claimed Baum’s inspiration for the yellow brick road as local. There’s even a Wizard of Oz themed event every year at our local restored movie palace, The Paramount.
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A section of preserved road, on private land.
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I’ve thought a few times about producing a musical at the Paramount. However, the things I like to do are more suited to a black-box or a parlor theatre. The Paramount is a football field.
All is going along nicely here.
I’m visiting Florida in a few weeks. Principally to spend time with my Mom, but I’ll also get to see my dear friend K! It’s so nice to be in close touch with a few folks from high school.
The teeny-tiny 1920s musical about a person whose name has a Z in it is finished and ready for a first read. However, one needs performers for such things. We are going to wait until after the school year starts to announce auditions. Seems prudent.
That was a helluva two weeks, preceding Easter and the week after. (A helluva few months, if I’m honest.) I finally got back up to snuff early last week, and we just got back from the Catskills.
I’m at Walt Disney World (as usual) next month, and visiting my family in Tampa for a week in July. Let the vacations begin!
The cottage we rented in the Catskills was wonderful. Certainly, there was no skiing or climbing mountains; but there was plenty of antique shopping! Terrific prices at a few antique malls we found, and I didn’t go too too crazy … and my wonky leg warned me when it was time to stop!
The only really guilty pleasure purchase was a 3×5′ early-Victorian (actual) Persian rug. Most everything else was knickknacks — but more on that later, in another post.
While we were gone, our neighbor and general contractor took down our plaster-and-lathe kitchen ceiling, exposing the gorgeous gigantic beams. They’re about 4″ x 10″ and around 180 years old.
This was a job I was never going to do myself. It’s technically easy work, but 1″ thick plaster is very heavy, and it has to be carried outside, put in a truck, and taken to the dump. Plus, almost 200 years of dirt, literal soot, and plaster dust. Nope. And I can’t imagine what the 1″ plaster ceiling of a 20′ x 10’+ kitchen would weigh. I mean, it’s essentially limestone. More on all that a bit later as well. I have a little work to do to clean the beams up. Here’s a preview though —
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(I love to think that the last guy that saw this huge beam was pre-Civil War, looking at it in about 1846.)
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It was a great week, indulging in pastimes and just relaxing otherwise. Here’s the pics!
Our CottageThe GazeboRoadside Attractions!Attn: TrekkiesThe Oleana EstateThe Catskills from across the river, in Hudson.Doin’ the Shoppin’Atmospheric Cemetery
We reserved an Airbnb for a week in May, based on it being listed as “secluded” and a “cabin in the woods.” Today I read the detailed stuff they eventually later send.
We’d wanted something without other people and noise around, both for peace and quiet and the sanity of the two dogs.
Turns out this “cabin in the woods” has another unit over top it, and another on the other side of a wall. Eli only barks if there’s something to bark about, but if there’s a group upstairs enjoying a football game or an excited gathering on the other side of a wall, he’s going to bark.
I messaged the host to ask what he thought about the situation. He said the other spaces weren’t booked, but they might be, so barking and noise could be a problem. He also told me the reason they’ll probably be booked is because they’re hosting an artists retreat that week. Oh, and you’re not allowed to use the fireplace. (Weird, as it’s featured in the photos.) As you can see, this had rapidly turned into exactly the situation I did not want.
So, I said I’m very sorry for the trouble, I canceled, and I got a full refund. I immediately booked a charming cottage-cabin on the other side of the Hudson, on forested land in the Catskills with no one else around, a big claw foot tub, a fireplace, and a private gazebo with a grill. Perfect!
Then the original host’s wife then messages me, and asks if she could transfer us to one of their more secluded cabins up in the woods without neighbors, and if we liked, we could walk down to the artists retreat anytime we liked.
Welp. It was a little too late for that. I can almost hear her saying to her husband, “You just turned away a week’s booking in the bigger space and let a composer and a writer go during a week when we’re having an artist’s retreat.” I’m going to assume she’s the brains when it comes to the business.
Still. I love the new place we found in the Catskills. And it’s owned by theatre folk. Photos below!
Hooo … am I tired! Tomorrow I’m off to the airport hotel, which sounds dreary, but it will be very nice. It’s supposed to be a quite decent hotel, and it’s attached directly to the airport. This way, I’m already there for my flight the next day, no rushing, no public transportation issues, another spa day.
A foggy, wet day; but no actual rain. Just a light wetting-you mist. Well, ya know. Fog.
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“A foggy day in London Town Had me low and had me down I viewed the morning with alarm The British Museum had lost its charm.”
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A bit of a rant today concerning the visit. It’s an entertaining and surprising rant, but if you’d like to skip it, just scroll down to the photos.
Lots of walking and standing today, and I’d have to say unfortunately, Westminster Abbey does disabilities very poorly. I went 15 minutes before opening, and after I’d walked around the large yard to get to the main entrance line. The employee out front sort of talked in circles when I asked whether there was a disabled entrance. I was tired of asking about it (and I was already there), so I waited in the line with the normals. They opened at 9:30 on the mark, but all the folks that worked there already seemed very much “on guard.”
When I didn’t want a free tour headset, the person-wearing-a-robe kept going on and on about it. After two or three go-rounds, her last sentence to me was, “But why don’t you have an audio guide?” Um, hello? I guess they don’t like people to refuse headsets. Maybe we try to talk to them too much otherwise. That impression was further confirmed as the day progressed.
Of all of the places I’ve visited in the past week, The Abbey staff has been the least friendly/helpful by far. And I’m not even very needy or demanding. The Docklands Museum and Southwark Cathedral absolutely both destroy Westminster Abbey in this respect. (I should mention, I had a very nice conversation about Jenny Lind with the lovely young headset-collector woman in Poets’ Corner.)
Later, after saying the same thing three or four times to different docents before they “got” what I was talking about, I realized they’re programmed to parrot this and that, and prefer not to be bothered; that I couldn’t possibly have anything useful or interesting to mention. In one instance, I mentioned a fact about some burials in the Stuart aisle of the Lady Chapel. She disagreed. I told her she should really read her very own Dean Stanley’s book … he documented all the royal burials in the mid-1800s.
At one point, I really needed to sit down (or fall down) for a while. I explained to a verger/docent/person. She told me I had to walk all the way around to get the 24 inches forward to where she was standing next to the chairs, rather than just picking up the rope hook for literally two or three seconds.
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I mean, c’mon.
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I was briefly in the vicinity of one absolutely hysterical docent — every time you took a step towards him, he either exaggeratedly turned his head the other way or walked to another corner. (For real. I tried it a few times to make sure. LOL)
This kind of crap filters down through the layers, and of course, as they’ll often remind you, this is first and foremost, a place of worship. As a career churchy myself, to say I was less-than-impressed is a gross understatement. And I’m looking at you, Dean Hoyle.
That’s plenty of complaining for today! Let’s look at some awesome pictures! I took dozens and dozens, so we’ll just do the highlights here.
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Henry VII’s stunning Lady Chapel
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I guess I can now say that I was once in the quire at Westminster Abbey
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Chaucer’s tomb. Interestingly, he was not interred here as a great poet, but due to his job as an upper-level government functionary.
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QEI — The lady, the myth, the legend. (She’s not in the box. She’s stacked in the crypt underneath below the floor, with her sister Queen Mary. Elizabeth is on top. Poetic justice.
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Edward the Confessor
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An aisle in the Cloister
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Remarkably preserved medieval paintings!
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I’m a bit of a scholar on the subject, I’ve done my own research, I’ve read Dean Stanley’s book(s) at least two or three times, and I’ve been to the Abbey in person several times, this being my last.
Yes, sure, I felt a little unwelcome. Big deal. However, combined with feeling physically uncomfortable without any way of helping myself, I don’t need to return. There was an Evensong later in the day I’d considered, but I hopped on the boat for an afternoon cruise instead.
One of the crew came over to me (a few of them know me by now) to mention that a more comfortable window seat had just opened up on the starboard side, and I realized that I felt very much more welcome on the Uber Boat than inside Westminster Abbey.
What is that? I think it’s a Lionel Richie song. Anyway —
They moved it up, and we have a surgery date. July 2! Truth is, I’m getting much worse, sick (to some degree) all day every day.
I am absolutely thrilled. This will end a year and a half of pain and nausea, and other things best not mentioned in mixed company. I haven’t eaten solid food in a year, or been to a movie, or gone anywhere much at all.
They’re re-routing my lower guts, and also taking out a small tumor. This stomach/GI syndrome forces you to live minute by minute. Yesterday, I felt kind of okay, and then threw up in a cup while driving on a winding mountain road. Thank God I had an empty cup in the car!
Although I have to say, the pre-surgery rigmarole, pre-visits, paperwork, phone calls, and prodding is unbelievable. If someone were elderly or just not-that-with-it, I don’t know how they would get it done.
I really am thinking positively though. I have already made a list of all my favorite restaurants and foods. You can’t imagine how happy it will make me when I can have a Pizza Hut pan pizza or Pad Thai!
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I also just started the germination of a London trip. October is my usual month. It’ll be a good project for the next few months. I want to visit and photograph every ancient church within The City of London. (Not “Greater London.” That’s gigantic.) The actual City is very small, inside the ancient Roman & medieval city walls. I think there are about fifty churches.
The London Wall (in red)
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In passing — you know how much of a Dickens fan I am. My addendum to that would be except Martin Chuzzlewit. Just started trying to get into it. Jeez. I really dislike it.
So, that’s what’s going on here. Hope you’re all well!
Sit Still Phill 