Mr. Washington

He is one of my very few heroes. Not for what they say he did but for what he really did. And for the things he refused to do. Anyone that accomplishes everything they ever dreamed and then walks away from the offer of ultimate power is a hero to me. Happy birthday Mr. Washington.

Prior Post Note: My best post on G.W. is here.

Hospital Days

I have been spending a lot of time at the hospital lately.

Driving out of the hospital parking garage every day makes a person very much aware of how happy a thing it is to be healthy. And to be free to drive around with the car windows open. And to feel the sun on your face.

But these are guilty pleasures. Purchased with the sorry currency of someone else's misfortune. And of the lucky suffering that leads to health. I thought of those last two sentences tonight as I was the one driving home. I liked them so I share them with you. I am not particularly proud of them. But they are true all the same.

Epic Cinema: The Young Victoria (2008)

Every Valentine's Day, people tend to ponder deep questions. Such as "Does True Love Exist?" Or, as Martin Amis so perfectly said, "Is it me? Is it now?" If we can find even one perfect example of such a thing, then of course it exists. And if it exists, then we must conclude that it is probably not a unique phenomena. That it can be, and is, replicated throughout nature.

The Young Victoria tells the amazing and true love story of Victoria and Albert. Young people who, like many young people, found themselves questing after love but facing almost insurmountable obstacles. Imagine it. You have to marry someone of "royal blood". You have to marry someone of the right age. You have to marry someone of royal blood, of the right age, and from the right sort of country. The weightiest forces of your family, your culture, your very nation, are brought to bear against you in this process. Just as at any American Thursday ladies night or Friday happy hour, you meet the usual selection of fools and shallows. Then, the perfect person just walks in the door. Of a palace. In a beautiful uniform. You share progressive thought. You play chess. You laugh. You spend the rest of your lives together.

This is a great movie and a perfect one for Valentine's Day. This story really happened. True Love manifested itself at the most rarefied level. Against all the odds. Against even the wills of governments. Under the horrid microscope of history. And it bloomed. And it lasted for decades. With as much vigor and depth as when they first caught each other's gaze.

It can happen. It happens every day. It happened to Victoria and Albert. And it happened to me. Here's to all love, and all lovers, everywhere. This is our day.

Man Of The Hour

This man saved my Irish Redhead's life today. And, along the way, he cured a condition that has menaced her for twenty years. When we first met him a few weeks ago, he spent over two hours just talking to us. About the issue. About this and that. He posited certain theories. All of which came true. This morning, early, before the day long surgery, his entire team came up and introduced themselves. Described what role they were to play in the day's events. One even kissed her hand. That, friends, is the result of real leadership. Of true professionalism. Of a commitment to excellence. Of giving more than a damn.

His name is Andreas Tzakis. They say he is the best in the world. He doesn't speak of such things. Afterward, I wanted to buy him a martini. At least. He didn't have time. He was off to help someone else.

As I mentioned, they say he is the best in the world. You will never hear any quarrel with that notion from this corner.

Fuzzy Photos Of Great Bars

Colony Bar, Grandover Resort, Greensboro, North Carolina. This is a marvelous bar tucked away in a marvelous resort hotel. The wood paneling was taken from an old tobacco barn.

Aye, Robert

This is the day devoted to the honor of the great Scotsman, the poet Robert Burns. As I have admitted elsewhere in these "pages", I have a rather short background in poetry. He did "Auld Lang Syne" I believe. But I do know a thing or two about good cocktails. The Bobby Burns is the best of whiskey cocktails...

Simple and effective. Equal parts Scotch and Italian Vermouth. Right before you shake it you add three [no more, no less] drops of Benedictine liquor. The Benedictine is the stroke of genius. Smooths out the whole recipe. Shake the mixture vigorously while thinking Scottish thoughts. Strain into a cocktail glass. Sit by a roaring fire. Sip. Auld Lang Syne, indeed.

A Target Interlude

The other day I saw a documentary on television about the American department store chain Target. One commentator posited the notion that Target had succeeded in becoming a destination store. This was no news to me.

When I was a teen, my family spent a large part of each summer at a cabin on the shores of a lake in northeast Minnesota. An idyllic spot really if you are in love with the lakes and woods as I was. And am. There was a Target store in Duluth which we would occasionally visit when making trips to get provisions and to see my grandparents. Other than the Glass Block department store downtown [with its brass escalators] the Target store in Duluth was the most glamorous place I had ever been.

Snow falls and melts in its brumal cycle. Years pass. Families move to warmer climates. Boys grow up and begin traveling on expense accounts. New York comes into view. One lazy Friday afternoon I was sitting at P.J. Clarke's bar in Manhattan enjoying a late lunch. Nearby was a group of city folk. Three cute young ladies and a young man. Well dressed. Probably co-workers. I was amused by the fact that the three ladies were talking excitedly about something while the young man ate his lunch in a resigned sort of way. As someone from the hinterlands, I assumed that the excitement was due to a new gallery opening or some other typical New York weekend event on the social horizon.

As I cozied up to a half of Guinness and a neat glass of Powers whiskey (it may have been cold outside) the female conversation reached a pitch that could be heard without (completely overt) eavesdropping...

Ok. I've rented a car. I'll pick you guys up at seven. Then we are going out to Jersey and we should be at the NEW TARGET RIGHT WHEN IT OPENS!!!!!! [Excited squeals and noises from her pals]. David, you are going with us aren't you? David?

At this point, I had to see the young man's reaction. I glanced toward their table. He looked my way, apparently knowing I had heard most of the conversation, and rolled his eyes with an otherwise expressionless face. The longest non-teen eye roll in the history of man. An image of the human male in full "how exactly did I get into this" mode. A situation which transcends all historical epochs and all cultures. I almost fell off my bar stool laughing to myself.

I looked away from them and toasted young David in the ancient bar mirror. Better him than me. As Jerry the barman extraordinaire refilled the Powers, I considered the majestic power of young love. And of a destination store. I just hope David got a new coffee maker out of the deal.