A Peripatetic Pastiche

A few months ago, my siblings and I planned a several days' stay on Lake Ontario at brother Bob's home there, for fishing on his boat, eating, drinking and having fun being together. I locked in air travel to be in the States and Canada for ten days total, hoping to fit in a quick visit with my son and a few days at the family farm in Pennsylvania. Those best-laid plans were flooded out as Lake Ontario rose rather devastatingly, so my trip took a different route.

My sister Mary Mary met me in Philadelphia, and the next day, we set out for Boston for a two-night stay. Gabriel was finishing out his final weeks at two elementary schools in the Lynn School District, teaching music and putting school concerts together for the end of term. We lunched at famed Durgin Park, where my mother loved to go when she taught music in Boston after college. The "Tall Ships" were visiting Boston Harbor that weekend, but the security check lines were so long that we settled for a glimpse of the riggings and masts from Quincy Market. We opted instead for a stroll down to a green space where a public art installation featured two wooden buildings half submerged in the earth. "Meeting House" modeled an historic Quaker building (I think it was Quaker) and a smaller one  symbolized the decay of something or another. A number of fashion models and camera-people were draping themselves over the houses, despite signs requesting they should not.

By some Facebook miracle, I had a two-minute reunion with dear old friend Bruce Genero, from college theatre days. He is still handsome and charming, and publishing his first novel! So sweet a moment, but too brief...



Gabriel treated us to Chinese that evening, and next morning (Sunday), we set out early for New York City, where we met brother Bob at a new hotel just at the foot of the Brooklyn Bridge with a great view of lower Manhattan. The 1 Hotel is all iron and wood -- industrial chic -- and incredibly stylish. We enjoyed rooftop drinks later that evening with our niece Maggie Rose, who lives just across the river in Jersey.  What a view!

We spent the afternoon in the F.L. Wright-designed Guggenheim Museum, admiring Kandinskys, Magrittes, Mondrians, and Calders. A great venue for people-watching, too!

The next day, we lunched nearby with a much-loved old pal of mine I had not seen since at least 1980. Jodie Lynne McClintock was a gifted aspiring actress I was lucky enough to work with in the late-1970s in Pittsburgh's lively experimental theater scene. She sought her fortune in NYC where she made it to Broadway (O'Neill's Long Day's Journey... with Jack Lemmon!) as well as many other Off-Broadway and other theaters, TV shows (Law & Order, Louie, 30 Rock) and film, notably United 93. How the years just melted away as we recalled a period when we were roommates, plays we'd done. Jodie is as lovely as ever, and now enjoys an additional fine reputation as an acting coach. A beautiful friend!

It was terrific to see Bobby, who travels the country for GM Financial, and managed to squeeze us into his busy schedule!

Our trip concluded with a couple of days at the Beatty farm near Johnstown, PA with Jack and Dick, with a side trip to our sister Anne's new home in Greensburg, where her husband Rudy cooked a good lunch. I have no pictures of the beautiful farm or Anne's cool pool. Here's farmer Jack, outstanding in his field:

My sister Mary Mary is the dearest person I know, and put 2200 miles on her SUV ferrying us around several states. She and her Great Dane Sophie made me very welcome, bought luscious sushi, salmon, and goodies I cannot enjoy in Nicaragua, and I am so grateful for her love and care. How lucky am I to have such a warm and wonderful family?

Sometimes, Bureaucracy IS Chicken Feed

Although it has been tempting to tackle the subject of Nicaraguan bureaucracy, I have thus far limited my comments to the paper chase that is the residency process. It often seemed as if each step in that convoluted path generated double or more additional requirements, each with its accompanying paper to be signed, notarized, or apostille'd, in triplicate. I exaggerate but slightly.

The fascination for documentation extends to hardware and chicken feed, among various commodities. Actually, it is appropriate to create a good paper trail for building materials that must correspond with exact measurements or dimensions. Chicken feed, not so much.

Happily, my property lies side by side with the farm of Mr. Vonn. You may recall that I bought hay and a slaughtered lamb from Mr. Vonn's place last fall. (It is unclear if there is an actual Mr. Vonn.) The farm entry road is surmounted by a large "V" mounted on a cross bar, and opposite is a small community called "Mr. Vonn," where I visited a small health clinic last year. And about 200 yards down the highway is San Francisco Industries, another company operated by Mr. Vonn, which manufactures and sells dog, chicken, and other agricultural feeds.

When I need to buy a 100-pound sack of chicken meal, I hire a bicicleta—a human-powered conveyance—to take me to Mr. Vonn's farm office where I visit a spartan office with two windows. At the left, I order my chicken feed and receive a purchase order which I then present at the right window—the caja—for payment. (Caja means "box" in Spanish, but it also can mean "pay station." Banks, hospitals, restaurants, and stores have cajas where you pay your bills.) I am given a receipt to add to my purchase order, and I then travel via my bicicleta down the highway to San Francisco Industries. I show my P.O. and receipt to pass through security, and head up to the large warehouse, where I again present my documents. The gentleman at this caja asks my name, and then asks me to sign another form documenting my purchase. He saves a copy for himself, and gives me its mate, and another guy loads the sack of feed onto the bicicleta. As we pedal back toward the entrance, the security guard takes the latter form, and copies its information onto his clipboard. Then, he asks me to sign his paper, staples all my paperwork together, and gives it back to me.

In hindsight, it makes sense for purchases of large quantities of feed to be well-documented, to avoid having a dozen or so sacks "fall off the truck," as it were, and have thorough accountability for deliveries and drivers. I am very small potatoes in this scenario, but my single sack has just as much paperwork as the big guys.