Memory

I grew up in a household with a father, mother, two sisters and an occasional grandparent. Back when more of us were still alive, we often sat around the table after a meal and told stories. So help me Hannah, to listen to us tell the tales, none of us lived in the same house or shared the same experiences. Frequently, it was the conversational equivalent of Rorschach tests crossed with Rashomon. And those stories morphed over time. The funniest bits got played up for laughs; the sad ones; the painful ones, well, if we were generous, we learned to edit and ease up on those.

So I'm going on the record to support Brian Williams, Anchor and Managing Editor, of NBC Nightly News. I don’t know how or why his story of his time in Iraq evolved. There are vast amounts of digital ink being spilled on Mr. Williams’ chronology; not nearly as much on the science of memory; and far too much umbrage, snark and glee for such a serious subject. Mr. Williams has acknowledged what he did. He has apologized. And he is temporarily off the air.

I understand this is journalism. I understand there are ethical standards. I also understand Mr. Williams has sustained a crushing blow to his credibility and his career.

Back in 1995 Jay Leno asked Hugh Grant: “What the hell were you thinking?”
Hugh Grant eventually replied: “I did a bad thing, and there you have it.”

Yeah, Hugh Grant is an actor. Brian Williams is a journalist. I get that.

I also know I am very grateful no television crew was ever in my home rolling tape as my family and I told our stories; grateful no internet existed to pounce upon any of our missteps, misspoken, misremembered moments, nor the embellished tales we told.

My gut says Mr. Williams is a smart, well intentioned human being who screwed up.
I hope he rides out this media tumult and emerges tarnished, battered, but unbroken.

Drive Baby Drive

Starting October 1st, I spent nine days driving.

It began at Logan Airport and Greater Boston here in Massachusetts. Then there was a trip back and forth to Rhode Island for a funeral. Then Brookline, Massachusetts to New Jersey, driving back and forth to New York City, wrapping up at JFK airport.

I’m a mediocre passenger and a middlin’ navigator for another driver - even with a GPS unit to assist. So for nearly 1,000 miles I was at the wheel, Chuck served as navigator and his sister Carol was the passenger. With Carol being from the land of very polite drivers, along with the very well signed and very well marked roads of Greater Seattle, she was sometimes “unsettled” by the driving in Greater Boston. (Yeah, we’ll go with “unsettled”!) But with this being Carol’s first visit east in seventeen years there was much to see and do, along with family to visit and catch up with.

In advance of the trip, I had been concerned about finding parking when needed in any of our city destinations and especially about driving in New York City. But it was all perfectly fine. Well, there was a certain amount of swearing, mostly by me (with occasional echoes from my companions) at a a few drivers who had apparently escaped from a NASCAR track or were perhaps fleeing the police. And there was one close call on the Lenny Zakim Bridge in Boston, in a torrential downpour, when a Subaru Forrester spluttered to a crawl right in front of us while in the passing lane. The parking in New York City, specifically in The Bronx, was easy peasy - except for that pesky $115.00 parking ticket we found on the windshield upon our return from visiting a family friend. (I thought “No Standing” meant no loitering. Lesson learned, sigh...)

But I was never worried about the driving. Maybe it was my two season foray into Autocross racing in a previous lifetime, which, while not wheel-to-wheel racing, does sharpens one’s skills on and off the track. Or perhaps it was just that driving was what needed to be done. The nice thing was that while I was enjoying my stint behind the wheel, my traveling cohorts were happy as well. Carol paid me great compliments, repeatedly using the word “guts” - and she assured me that she needed neither dramamine nor tranquilizers.

So at the end of nine days and nearly 1,000 miles I managed to get us and the car home safe and sound. But I have to tell you that the best driving moment of the trip came on day nine. I overshot the turn for the Midtown Tunnel which I needed to take in order to get Carol to her flight out of JFK. I evaluated the relatively quiet Sunday morning traffic conditions, paying no heed to the line of police vehicles parked curbside to my right, and pulled a U-turn on E 34th Street in New York City. It was just a couple of blocks down from the Empire State Building. It wasn’t like a scene out of “Sleepless In Seattle” nor “An Affair To Remember”. It was just ridiculously empowering and a whole lot of fun!

Let’s Hear It For The Boys

My sister Gail asked me about some of the great male actors. She listed Cary Grant, Russell Crowe, Hugh Grant and Colin Firth. There are terrific actors and there are heartthrobs. Occasionally you get both in one package. Cary Grant is an excellent example of the total package! But some actors draw you in, catch you up in their character; the story and and draw you into the film. Here’s my list of the guys from an earlier era whom I love to watch:

William Powell
Jimmy Stewart
Humphrey Bogart
Gregory Peck
William Holden
and yes,
Cary Grant

Some Great Ladies

To follow up on yesterday’s movie post, I wanted to recommend a few actresses whom I admire. If you are a film buff, these will seem obvious. But if you are just beginning to explore the cinematic archives, this will be a good first draft of a “map of the stars”. While it’s certainly not a guarantee, if you see any of these gals billed as starring in a film, the movie is likely worth a look.

Wendy Hiller
Judy Holliday
Myrna Loy
Ingrid Bergman
Katherine Hepburn
Greer Garson

Movies

My taste in movies tends toward classics, wit, humor, romance, happy endings, World War II, good triumphing over evil and is obviously pretty eclectic. I don’t like silent films. I detest horror films. My favorite range is from the earliest talkies of the pre-code era up until about 1959. That’s not to say I don’t have contemporary favorites. The King’s Speech is a recent example. But I love the tremendous heart evident in older films.

Blogger allows us to list favorite movies in our profile. Whenever I think of it I will add one to the string. When I looked at it the other day I decided to add the year the film was released, in part because many movies share the same title. Here are some films I happily recommend. It is by no means an exhaustive list, but each one is worthy of your time and attention.

Adam's Rib (1949)
An Affair To Remember (1957)
Auntie Mame (1958)
Battleground (1949)
Born Yesterday (1950)
Casablanca (1942)
Confessions of a Nazi Spy (1939)
Evelyn Prentice (1934)
Guess Who's Coming To Dinner (1967)
I Know Where I'm Going! (1945)
It's A Wonderful Life (1946)
Libeled Lady (1936)
Love Actually (2003)
Mad Hot Ballroom (2005)
Moonstruck (1987)
Mrs. Miniver (1942)
Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939)
Notorious (1946)
Notting Hill (1999)
Pinky (1949)
Pride of the Marines (1945)
Random Harvest (1942)
Rear Window (1954)
Remember the Titans (2000)
Sahara (1943)
Seven Brides for Seven Brothers (1954)
Sleepless In Seattle (1993)
The Best Years of Our Lives (1946)
The Bishop's Wife (1947)
The Blind Side (2009)
The Gilded Lily (1935)
The King's Speech (2010)
The Man Who Knew Too Much (1956)
The Philadelphia Story (1940)
The Search (1948)
The Solid Gold Cadillac (1956)
The Thin Man (1934)
What Every Woman Knows (1934)

You can learn more about each film over at IMDB, The Internet Movie DataBase and at TCM, Turner Classic Movies.

The End of 30 Year Mortgages?

Here in the United States, 30 year fixed rate mortgages have been the only realistic means to home ownership for the middle class. They first began in the 1930s when the government stepped in to help stabilize the housing market during The Great Depression. B-flat, garden variety, 30 year fixed rate mortgages, taken out by responsible home buyers and written by honorable lenders, were not the cause of the contemporary mortgage crisis. Those responsible homeowners were, however, part of the collateral damage in as much as the values of their homes declined sharply. Now it seems as if all the responsible home buyers who wish to sell and buy a new home or get into the market for the first time, are about to get screwed out of the option of a 30 year fixed rate mortgage.

In a housing utopia we could all save for a few years and buy a home for cash - I said utopia! In an ideal world we could all afford a 15 year fixed rate mortgage. But with income stagnant and the buying power of the dollar diminished, the significantly lower monthly payment of the 30 year fixed rate mortgage is key to the equation. (For a $250,000 house, with 10% down, at a 5% interest rate, the monthly payment for a 30 year fixed is $1,208; for a 15 year fixed it’s $1,779 - a $571 difference.) But with the impending demise of the elder Fannie Mae and the younger Freddie Mac, 30 year mortgages could disappear and so too the dreams of home ownership for the middle class.

Paul McMorrow explains the problem in the Boston Globe and Binyamin Appelbaum explores it further in the New York Times.

Without a 30 year fixed from the Bailey Building and Loan Association, Mr. Martini and his family would not have been moving into their own home in Bailey Park. And George and Mary Bailey wouldn’t have been toasting them with “Bread: that this house may never know hunger; Salt: that life may always have flavor; Wine: that joy and prosperity may reign forever”. That was all from “It’s A Wonderful Life ”, but isn’t that exactly what we all want?

Different Weather Reference

I am officially under the weather - and this time I am not referring to the snow. I have a cold. On the up side, the symptoms - of which I have them ALL - are progressing rapidly. But in the throes of an overwhelming coughing jag this morning, when Chuck commented on said speed, I quipped/hacked back “Yeah, at this rate I’ll be dead by Thursday.” It’s not that bad, not really. But it does suck pond water. Before I tip over into whining (Oh? I already went there?) I will say that WebMD has some nifty cold vs. flu vs. bronchitis vs. pneumonia pages which you might enjoy perusing. I know I did.

In other news...

: : A month ago, I asked if anyone had suggestions for a good personal health record or medical record template for Apple’s Numbers. I’ve come up empty on that front. But I did find an interesting resource on the web called MyPHR. I haven’t found exactly what I was looking for, but there is a wealth of useful information on the website.

: : After a protracted period of frustration over a challenging situation with an ER (elderly relative), things seem to have taken a turn for the better. It involves independence, choices, and safety. We hope that this recent trend continues. But even if it all evaporates, we have learned another batch of lessons which we can make every effort to apply to our own futures.

: : Turner Classic Movies is good almost all of the time. But during its annual “31 Days Of Oscar” it is especially great. Add in my cold and TCM serves as a perfect distraction.

: : Isabella’s parents got the green light to give the 10 pound, 11 ounce / 4.85 kilogram baby her first taste of cereal. Oh my! According to her Mom, Izzy mooshed the teaspoon of rice cereal about in her mouth and then dribbled it down her chin. But the little spoon was a big hit!

It Only Took Eight And A Half Years

The last movie we saw in an actual movie theater was “My Big Fat Greek Wedding”. Yes, it was way back in 2002. We used to go to the movies every weekend. We had the theater’s movie times phone number memorized. Part of our weekly ritual - before the age of easy internet access and cell phone apps - was to get our pen and big lined pad ready. Then we would dial the number and write down titles and times as fast as we could. We rarely got it all on the first try. So we would quickly eliminate the irrelevant films and call back to listen again; this time focusing on what we were interested in seeing.

Once we settled on a movie we would drive to the theater, park the car and wait in line to buy tickets. We would try to get there early enough to get a good seat - not too close to the screen, not too far away. But as the years went by, the crowds became less polite. We were used the occasional “senior citizen” leaning over and stage whispering “What did he say?” for the whole theater to hear. No problem, all part of the experience.
Nor do I mean the crackling of cellophane candy wrappers or the slurping of sodas. I mean full fledged and amazingly full throated conversations, cell phones ringing followed by one sided dialogues and arguments erupting between patrons.

At the risk of sounding like the cranky old neighbor who yells “You kids get off my lawn!”, I will admit that even though we were then only in our 40s and 50s we did find ourselves muttering “Kids these days!”. When we had to leave a theater because it was completely out of control and negotiate with management for our money back, we knew we were at a tipping point. Gradually our movie theater days dwindled and “My Big Fat Greek Wedding” became our last in-theater cinema experience.

That is, until this afternoon. We went to a matinee showing of “The King’s Speech”. Nothing else in the last eight plus years has pulled us as powerfully to darken the door of a movie theater. We Googled, found Fandango, entered a zip code and poof we had theaters and times. (Kids these days have it easy!) We arrived to find no lines and the $5.75 ticket price had us feeling like we were in a very fiscally pleasant time warp.

Resisting the popcorn, we headed into the designated theater and found that they had improved the seating during our long absence. They reminded me of bucket seats and they could sort of rock and be repositioned. The floors weren’t sticky and littered with popcorn and wrappers. It wasn’t elegant but it was really very nice. There was only one other patron, a woman, seated in the theater. We greeted each other and she admitted as how she was glad we had arrived. She found the idea of sitting all alone in the theater a bit daunting.

“The King’s Speech” was absolutely marvelous! We loved every single minute of it. We applauded at the end! Our theater companion chose not to join in our applause. To each her own. We’re late to this party so you’ve likely seen the trailers, the reviews, the accolades - most recently its tremendous success at the 2011 BAFTAs - and, if you were smart and lucky, the film itself. Wasn’t it fabulous?

I will confess that at first I wanted my DVR or DVD player so I could rewind, pause and, heaven help me, pop on subtitles! But I settled in, as did Chuck and for two hours we were transported back to the first half of the last century. That doesn’t happen in the same intensely immersive way in one’s living room - no matter how nifty the surround sound.

Will we go back? Maybe. If another film as exceptional as “The King’s Speech” is released, we will be there in a heartbeat.

Five Items

Egypt:
I’m an enormous fan of and believer in Democracy. I want the people of Egypt to participate in their government and to thrive economically. I want that for them now.

Maria Schneider:
Actress Maria Schneider passed away this week at the age of 58. Upon hearing the news, director Bernardo Bertolucci said he regrets that "he never got the chance" to apologize to Ms. Schneider who, at the age of 19, starred in his “Last Tango In Paris”. Yeah, when you only have 39 years it's hard to find the time. May Ms. Schneider rest in peace.

Super Bowl:
My Dad was a football fan. One of the teams he liked was the Green Bay Packers. I rooted for them tonight during what turned out to be a surprisingly good and exciting Super Bowl XLV. Oh, the Packers won!

Super Bowl Halftime Show:
Wow. But not in a good way. I like the Black Eyed Peas just fine. But the sound engineers or technicians at Fox dropped the ball - pun intended. The light show aspects were pretty cool, especially the red heart. But I kept waiting for the wowee-zowee big moment. Perhaps I am jaded. I will say I am delighted that there were no wardrobe malfunctions. Heaven knows I couldn’t suffer through another kerfuffle like the Jackson-Timberlake incident of 2004.

Mouse:
We live with three cats. Yet it was Chuck who spotted the mouse strolling along the edge of the room and pausing to watch the Super Bowl on TV. Chuck had to capture the mouse in a jar and externalize it. The cats seemed wildly disinterested. Not that I like what happens when the cats are interested in or are successful in catching a mouse. But they could have at least twitched an ear or lolled their heads in the general direction of the dang mouse!


P.S. I didn’t mention snow! Not even once! Well, except for just now... ;o)

Catching Up & Two Questions

: : First off, a belated blog birthday greeting to my sister Gail in Georgia. She is “GG”, Isabella’s grandmother, and she celebrated an unnamed/unnumbered birthday on Thursday. May this coming year hold only joy for you Gail!

: : Speaking of Isabella, she now weighs 8 pounds, 14 ounces or 4.03 kilograms and she remains bright as a new penny, endlessly entertaining and adorable.

: : Do any Apple computer aficionados know of a good personal health record or medical record template for Numbers? It could even be a Microsoft Excel template, which can be opened in Numbers and then saved as a Numbers file. I found a couple on-line, but none of them seem to be as sophisticated as the sort of templates which come with Numbers.

: : Are any of my readers using HD Radio? We just began learning about it and, despite its nascency, it seems pretty nifty. If we could reliably get the Boston Red Sox ballgames via HD Radio we would be all over it like white on rice!

: : Keith Olbermann has left MSNBC. I am unhappy about this. I like Keith. I liked his show Countdown. Even though there were times when he tipped over from determined to strident; from angry to wrathful; from funny to obsessively mocking, I always admired his courage, his convictions and his willingness to speak truth to power. I shall miss him.

: : So far, Downton Abbey is fabulous! The series is airing in four parts here in the States as part of Masterpiece on PBS. There is a lovely warmth, humor and humanity about the characters and the storylines. We have been captivated by it and are keeping our fingers crossed that it finishes well. And that the next round of episodes, filming this spring, will be equally wonderful.

: : I thought of the late Jeff Barnard many times this week. Each time we drove through Worcester we found folks walking in the street because sidewalks were unshoveled and we played dodge-cars with other vehicles because lanes of traffic suddenly disappeared under unplowed or poorly plowed snow. As we inched along, I couldn’t help but think that Jeff would have held those responsible up to his high standards and kept their feet to the fire.

: : It is now -9F / -23C! I’ll let that sink in. Yes, it is incredibly frosty. The sky is crystal clear as it usually is on such bitterly cold nights. The moon is just past full and the snow is glittering under its gentle light.

NSFW

Many months ago our niece Kate told us about a YouTube video by Cee Lo Green. We had been talking about break up songs - I can’t remember why - and she said Cee Lo Green had a “classic”. Ever thoughtful, she did warn us about its content. Then she told us the name of the song was "F*ck You". We looked it up and found the following (absolutely NSFW!) video - which I thoroughly enjoyed:



Then today I followed a link from Ten Pounds Of Awesome to the ASL (American Sign Language) version of the song. It too is totally NSFW, but I loved it. In fact I sent the links to my sister-in-law because our nephew, her son, is studying ASL in high school. Enjoy!

“Framed”

Unfortunately, this is belated, but I did want to heartily recommend the PBS Masterpiece Contemporary show “Framed”. It aired in this region the night of our “Rolling Christmas” and blizzard. We had set the DVR for it. Once we had a chance to watch the show, we were completely charmed by it.

I haven’t been all that excited about the Masterpiece Contemporary series. I did enjoy “Place of Execution” and also “Collision”. So with three in the “like” column, I guess I need to keep an open mind about whatever comes out in the future under the banner of “Masterpiece Contemporary”!

It’s A Wonderful Life

It’s my favorite movie of all time. It always will be. All the great directors, writers and cinematographers that have ever lived could collaborate to create a film together and it wouldn’t hold a candle to “It’s A Wonderful Life”. I watch it every year, at least once (I own a copy). Every year I discover something new or understand some aspect of it in a new way. It’s perfect. I laugh; I cry; my blood boils at Mr. Potter; my heart melts when George and Mary embrace over the telephone and again when they are reunited on the stairs with their children. The final scene is the best happy ending ever. Ever. Some members of my family don’t understand its magic. They need to watch it, start to finish, without commercials and give themselves over to it - no distractions, save perhaps popcorn or eggnog. I’m certain that’s all it will take. ;o)

Wishing you a very
Merry Christmas!


Image courtesy of Karen’s Whimsy

Notting Hill

Apropos of nothing, the movie “Notting Hill” really holds up. It may have been made in 1999; it may be classified as a “chick flick” but it is still a pleasure to watch. I laughed. I cried. I clapped. Can’t ask for much more than that in film.

Follow That Man!

Film Critic Roger Ebert has been through hell and back. But he still publishes at The Chicago Sun-Times and he has a blog. He also Tweets up a storm and is definitely worth following. His topics are wide ranging; his comments witty, pithy and an excellent match for the 140 character limit of Twitter.

Roger Ebert at the Chicago Sun-Times
Roger Ebert’s Journal
Mr. Ebert’s Twitter Feed

Red Robin

On our trips to Washington state we discovered the Red Robin restaurants. They began in Seattle during the 1940s. The food was always good; not terribly expensive. The restaurants were clean, bright, with interesting posters, photographs and artwork on the walls. And the staff was unfailingly cheerful. I’ve mentioned in previous posts that the helpfulness of many employees in Washington state initially took us by surprise. So it was easy to assume that the positive vibe we experienced at Red Robin was simply part of the cultural fabric of the Northwest. Then Red Robin opened a restaurant in Millbury and we gave it a whirl. With the exception of the southern New England accents, we could have been back in Greater Seattle!

Last night we stopped at Red Robin on our way home from Rhode Island. Friday night found them busy and bustling. The gal at the desk told us we would have about a twenty minute wait. It turned out to be closer to twenty-five, but that was close enough. While we waited, Chuck and I entertained ourselves by watching the Red Sox game on the television sets and listening to the names of diners being called when their tables were ready. When I was a kid, my Dad always gave our last name to the host. Nowadays, folks tend to give their first name, us included. (The exception would be when we call and make a reservation or use a service like Open Table.) As the names were called out, we began pretending famous people were in the house. We would hear “Taylor, party of two.” and one of us would exclaim “Taylor Swift is here!” We kept this up with rapid conversions from ordinary people to mostly young, hip celebrities including Matt Damon, Lindsay Lohan, Kenny Chesney, Josh Beckett and so on. The one that stumped us was “Julie, party of four.” We wracked our brains for a contemporary celebrity named Julie. Chuck finally offered Julie Harris and I volunteered Julie Andrews. At that point we felt really, really old! But the time sure had flown by!

When we were comfortably seated in a booth, Chuck noticed that the staff had something embroidered on the sleeve of their polo shirts. It read “Honor, Integrity, Continually Seeking Knowledge and Having Fun”. Turns out that’s what Red Robin describes as their core values. No wonder we like Red Robin!

Check Mate

Here in the U.S. they run an awful lot of advertisements for dating services. They talk about the science, simplicity and safety of having their particular service match you with your true love. We have two reactions when we see these ads: 1. Thank God we’re not looking. And 2. They never would have matched us!

On paper there is very little Chuck and I have in common. He likes classical music; I tolerate it. He does crossword puzzles daily; I think them unnecessarily abstruse. He’s very social and outgoing; I believe good fences make good neighbors. He was raised Jewish; I was raised Catholic. When we met, Chuck enjoyed his role as an intellectual snob: while I liked to have my finger on the pulse of popular culture. He listened to NPR; I watched MTV (back when they aired videos!). He grew up in the midwest; I’m Rhode Island all the way. He is fifteen years my senior; umm - same in reverse. Then there was the whole taxes issue, which I’m not sure if dating services poll people on, but which took a couple of decades and Barack Obama to resolve for us.

Now, I suppose, if they dug deeply enough, any dating service (or more likely a human matchmaker, a shadchen) would figure out that we share a common set of values. They also would figure out that we both love to laugh. But would they have any idea that we laugh at a lot of the same things - Marx Brothers and Three Stooges excepted? How would they know that word play makes us ridiculously happy and to do it in multiple languages is a grand slam? Speaking of baseball, we were both just casual baseball fans, but, after meeting, became devoted Boston Red Sox fans together. Where are the boxes to tick for all that?

When we met, we knew. No, we didn’t know we would marry one day. But we did feel a connection; a sense of old friends reuniting; a spark. I don’t know how the dating services figure that out. I’m just happy we were lucky enough not to require outside assistance.

Hell Hath No Fury...

I confess, when stuck in a waiting room, I seek out People magazine. I take everything they - and all the other “celebrity focused” magazines - publish with a grain of salt. Actually, it’s more like a healthy handful. But if I’m nervous about a doctor’s visit, I will happily fall into their glossy pages. Some of the lesser pure gossip/fiction rags are just outrageous. Standing in line at the grocery store, scanning the cheesy headlines, can really infuriate me. So while I’m not addicted to Hollywood gossip - and I sure don’t do it here - one story this week captured my attention: Sandra Bullock and her husband of five years, Jesse James.

I happened to catch part of Barbara Walters interview with Sandra on Oscar night. I don’t know Ms. Bullock from Adam’s off ox, but she came across as warm, personable and in love with her husband. Then she went on to win the Best Actress Academy Award for “The Blind Side” and thanked Mr. James during her acceptance speech. Less than two weeks later, Jesse James has issued an apology to his wife Sandra and his three children. I have no idea what Mr. James did or didn’t do with the tattling tattooed stripper. But Jiminy Cricket, if he did do something that requires a blanket public apology, he is a royal ass!

Yes, I know it takes two to make a marriage - blah, blah, blah. But when I read about his apology, all I could think of was how Ms. Bullock had thanked him during her speech. If the marriage goes down in flames, Mr. James is inextricably tied to that peak professional and personal moment of acknowledgement and achievement. If she didn’t think they were on solid ground, would she have been so openly appreciative and affectionate? I don’t think so. I know I wouldn’t have. So at the moment, I’m on Sandra’s “side”. I know this isn’t like picking teams for dodgeball or red rover, but Jesse James has managed to get my hackles up and tick me off. Cuz it sure feels like he blindsided Sandra.

Lost and Found

I watched a movie recently called “I Know Where I’m Going!” (1945). It was quite wonderful; charming, quirky, non-linear and both of and ahead of its time. The film was set in a remote island area to the west of Glasgow, Scotland. Throughout the movie, a number of characters spoke Scottish Gaelic. As I listened, I couldn’t help but wonder if the ancestors on my father’s side had spoken Scottish Gaelic when they lived in and around Glasgow. My paternal great grandparents, James and Mary, were born in the middle of the 19th century in Scotland. Their two eldest children were born there as well. The youngest four, including my grandfather Alexander, were born in Rhode Island in the late 1800s.

Great grandparents James and Mary passed before I was born. Several of their children, my great aunts and uncles, were alive for many years after my birth. But I never met any of them. From what I can piece together, there was a falling out; a rift developed between my grandfather Alexander and the rest of his family. My mother thinks it had something to do with Alexander’s family disapproving of his choice of bride, my grandmother Catherine. However the rift began, it was never, ever healed.

Sometimes, a later generation can reach across the gulf and find a way to let the disagreements of their parents lie in the past. That happened in Chuck’s family. Siblings at his father’s generation lived with a rift for many years. Then Chuck wrote a letter to his cousins from whom he had been estranged and a door opened. Sadly, this never happened between my family and my paternal grandparent’s family. Which is how I came to wonder the other day about how many things I missed out on. What could my great aunts and uncles John, James, Mary, Lizzie and Madeline Rose have taught me? Would they have loved me? Would my toddler smile have melted their hearts as it did my grandfather Alexander’s? Would they have shared recipes, traditions, family stories and history with me? And would any of the Scottish Gaelic they may have spoken been passed on to me?

I love the private languages of families. It can be the expressions they use which set them apart from their neighbors, just as it ties them strongly to generations past. Or it can be the languages of their home countries and larger communities such as Canadian French, Cajun French, Gaelic and so on - and of course Yiddish. Yiddish is the German language which originated with Ashkenazi Jews centuries ago. It remains the mother tongue (mame loshn) in fact or emotion for Jews around the world today. When I first became close to Chuck, Yiddish fascinated me. It was part of the secret handshake of his family. His parents, aunts and uncles sat up and took notice when the Irish Catholic girl pronounced and used a Yiddish phrase correctly. It was a hand outstretched in friendship from me and it was welcomed. The first time I was able to make a joke, a play on words, simultaneously in both English and Yiddish I felt as if I should be moving the tassel on my mortarboard!

So as I watched “I Know Where I’m Going!” and listened to the Scottish Gaelic rise up in the back of the actors' throats, roll around on their tongues and spill out in rapid, easy, comfortable conversation, I felt a sharp pang. It was somewhere between recognition and loss. It made me long for what I might have learned from my Scottish uncles and aunts. And made me even more grateful for the way Chuck and his family welcomed me in and began teaching me their mame loshn, which has, in many ways, become mine as well.

Notorious

I can’t state exactly how many times I’ve seen the movie “Notorious” (1946), but every single time I watch it I am drawn in immediately. It’s partly the skill of director Alfred Hitchcock and partly the taut writing of Ben Hecht and partly the fine acting of the entire cast - especially the gorgeous Cary Grant and the stunning Ingrid Bergman. More than just technical genius, there is something mesmerizing about the entire film. Each time I watch “Notorious” I hold my breath during the scene in the wine cellar and, of course, the walk down the sweeping staircase at the cusp of the denouement. Six decades past its creation, it remains not notorious but glorious.