- November 2013
- September 2013
- July 2013
- June 2013
- May 2013
- April 2013
- March 2013
- February 2013
- January 2013
- December 2012
- November 2012
- October 2012
- September 2012
- August 2012
- July 2012
- June 2012
- May 2012
- April 2012
- March 2012
- February 2012
- January 2012
- December 2011
- November 2011
- October 2011
- September 2011
- August 2011
- July 2011
- June 2011
- May 2011
- April 2011
- March 2011
- January 2010
- December 2009
- November 2009
- October 2009
- September 2009
- August 2009
“Enough Said” is a sweet flick, featuring Julia Louis-Dreyfus and James Gandolfini as middle aged divorcees who manage to conjure romance in the throes of middle age.
But for this movie goer, Gandolfini’s recent demise tinged the entire experience with melancholy. After Gandolfini came into our home week after week as Tony Soprano, he came to be a familiar personality rather than a distant celebrity. His untimely death came as a shock. Not nearly enough lived — or enough said.
Federal officials have said the Great Recession is over. Maybe that’s true by whatever criteria they use. But if it’s really over, why are there so many beggars, and in places I’d never encountered them before? No longer content to beg on city streets, the suburbs have become prime begging turf. Even in upscale Lower Merion, I was accosted by a beggar outside a convenience store. On a recent day in Cheltenham, outside the drug store and at a gas station, two different beggars plied their trade. One, a woman, held up a sign that said she was homeless, hungry and has diabetes.
The musical cicada chorus invokes childhood days when I rode my bike along the side of gravel roads to an old covered bridge that stands near Springfield, Illinois.
The heat, the relentless sun, the Queen Ann’s lace and milkweed growing in roadside ditches, with monarch butterflies punctuating the green with orange flashes. Here and there a tree would offer welcome shade. I’d pause and listen to the sound of those bugs that we then called “locusts.” There vibrating chant marked the long summer days.
Finally, the bridge would appear as the road sloped down. Beneath it a small creek made its way through taller weeds and elms draped a canopy over its passage through time.
Then I remembered accounts of people on a certain medication having middle of the night feeding frenzies and driving their cars. But if you’re in a sleepwalking state, would you remember to follow directions like not to use your hair dryer while sleeping? It gets curiouser and curiouser, Alice.
Author Thomas Wolfe’s title “You Can’t Go Home Again” sums up my reaction to the new Star Trek movie “Star Trek Into Darkness.” While on one level, it’s an enjoyable action-adventure movie, on another level, I just could not relate to the new actors playing the cherished characters from my childhood favorite show, “Star Trek.”
In no way does Chris Pine inhabit Captain Kirk, formerly portrayed by William Shatner. And Zachary Quinto makes a pale shadow of Leonard Nemoy’s Mr. Spock. In the same vein, the other characters, Scotty, Dr. McCoy, and Lt. Uhura do not compute. Better to have moved on with an entirely new venture, rather than this soon to be forgotten flick.
Watching the horses and riders speeding over jumps in the 83rd Radnor Hunt steeplechase was exciting but watching the people also tickled my fancy, as women paraded bedecked in hats and summer frocks (despite the chilly air) and men wore everything from shorts to bow ties.
But it was all for a good cause, preserving open space. And a grand tradition of spring continued for yet another year. Tally ho!
It’s not often that I meet someone with such joie de vivre as Steve Braithwaite.
Braithwaite, the builder and operator of the Big Banana Car,
is raising money and awareness for deep vein thrombosis. His mother died of DVT after a flight to England. Simple steps such as getting up and walking, wearing support hose or taking an aspirin can help prevent DVT.
Braithwaite will set off soon on a tour of Europe, the Middle East and Far East, with his art car. Bringing smiles to faces and hopefully preventing unnecessary deaths.
Along the way officers have stopped the vehiicle –to pose for pictures. And young women have a tendency to go wild at the site ot the unusual vehicle. Braithwaite said that his mother would have wanted him to enjoy life and he is. Toot toot.
A recent New York Times article on dog names had tongues wagging at the dog park. My pup is named Zoey and so are several of her playmates, although Chloe seems to be the most popular name for female hounds in our local dog park. Several males answer to Cooper.
The article recommends shorter names, and also names you’ll comfortable using for 10 or more years. Like human names, fashions in dog names have changed over the years. There are no longer many pooches named Fido, for example. Since dogs are now more like members of our families than mere pets, their names have taken on new weight. Yet, I doubt dogs themselves care much which appellation they’re called. As long as Milkbones are handy, they’re happy.
My father, who turns 80 this year, has enjoyed many satisfying days on the golf course, having taken up the sport as a young man. After playing these many years he shot his first hole in one in 2011 and spends two or three days a week on the links near his home in Florida. While not a golfer myself, I enjoyed immensely “The Art of Golf,” a new exhibit at The Philadelphia Museum of Art.
A bagpiper serenaded members of the press to herald the opening of show, which like golf, has roots in Scotland. The highlight of the exhibit is a large oil painting, the seven-foot wide “The Golfers” painted in 1847 by Scottish artist Charles Lees. The painting depicts a crowd of onlookers surrounding a hole during a tournament at the famous St. Andrews golf course. A quaint detail shows a young girl selling ginger beer, which was common at the fourth hole at the venerable St. Andrews.
The exhibit also features an early red coat worn by golf club members, examples of wooden golf clubs that players often made themselves and a feather ball. The feather-filled leather golf ball was also often made by golfers, said museum curator Jennifer Thompson.
Another interesting item displayed was an elaborate trophy made from a silver golf club adorned with silver balls hanging from its shank that was used at St. Andrews by the “Noblemen and Gentlemen of Fife” from 1754 to 1930.
“The Art of Golf” runs from March 16 to July 7. Giving the show more resonance with area golf aficionados, during its tenure the U.S. Open Championship centennial will be played at the Merion Golf Club in Ardmore, Pa. It’s likely that many avid golfers in town for the Open will trek to the museum as well to take in the lay of the land at “The Art of Golf.”
For more information: philadmuseum.org