Change of Seasons

Usually there's an overlap between the end of the racing season and the beginning of the concert season. This year my first concert was to be a nearby Boston Artists Ensemble chamber music performance on September 21, followed by Race Committee duty during the day on the 22nd, followed by a concert opera performance that evening. But the racing scheduled for September 22 and 29 was canceled (I was not scheduled to serve on the 29th,), with the result that my last Race Committee duty was on September 13 — a race which ultimately had to be abandoned because there wasn't enough wind for the boats to get around the course. So there was an eight day gap between Race Committee service and concert going.

I attended a Handel and Haydn performance on Sunday, September 30. My first Boston Symphony concert will be on October 11, and my first Harvard Musical Association concert will be the next evening. There are another thirty-two events on my concert calendar after that, with the last one coming on May 2, 2019 — well before the first racing event. It all adds up to thirty-six events spread over thirty-three weeks, and thirty-one of them require trekking in to Boston. Fourteen concerts are BSO, eleven HMA, five Boston Artists Ensemble nearby, four H+H, and two opera. It's possible I could add BSO, H+H, and opera performances, and that I could skip some BSO or HMA concerts if I am under the weather literally or figuratively.

Later this month there will be a Race Committee Appreciation Party, but I don't count it as part of the sailing season, nor do I consider that the season begins for me when the club opens in April with a flag-raising event which committee members attend in uniform. For me, the season is when I am helping run sailboat races. This year I had fourteen times on duty over twelve weeks.

Another change of seasons occurred on September 29, Michaelmas, when I switched from straw to felt hats. Straw hats will return, as always, on Memorial Day.

An Evening in Boston

Last Friday evening was the third on which the Harvard Musical Association had on of its "social evenings." I hadn't attended either of the first two, October 6 and 10, but went to this one. The music was played by a group called Cuarteto Latinoamericano. Before intermission they played pieces by Latin American composers. After intermission, with a second cellist added, they played a quintet by Schubert and, in response to enthusiastic applause, gave us the familiar Minuet by Boccherini — https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gFFh-HRNP48 — as an encore.

As usual, I went to Scollay Square restaurant for dinner before the concert. Wendy the waitress was there, which I hadn't expected, since she had indicated a while back that she wouldn't be there regularly on Fridays. But we enjoyed a chance to greet each other. I surprised her by ordering a white wine (Tussock Jumper sauvignon blanc, from New Zealand) with my main course of scallops. At home, I usually have white wine with fish and seafood, but I've somehow developed the habit of drinking red wine with everything when I'm eating at a restaurant.

I had arrived a bit later than the ideal time at the restaurant, and Wendy and I didn't get to talk other than the business of ordering my meal. I ended up arriving at the concert just as the quartet was beginning its second piece. The 20th Century Latin American music was good, but I enjoyed the part after intermission more. I didn't stay for the refreshments afterwards. As it was, I got home about 11:30. If I had stayed, it would have been after midnight.

The weather was unseasonably warm, and it was very pleasant walking from subway to restaurant, restaurant to HMA, and HMA to subway. It led me to reflect on how fortunate I've been to have a life which affords such enjoyable things. Further thoughts were that getting around when there is snow on the ground will be much less pleasant but that in conditions like that evening's it would be nice to be able to go naked, if only it were socially acceptable.

On the evenings before and after the one in Boston, I was at the yacht club. On Thursday, there was a end of season cocktail party for the Race Committee. A couple of prizes, each named for a deceased member of the committee, were awarded to people who had served in outstanding ways. There were also coffee mugs for members who had been on duty for more than ten days (which included me and my brother), and glasses for the remaining members. Several of us stayed for dinner after the party. After eating lots of hors d'oeuvres, I couldn't finish my dinner. The leftovers are still in my refrigerator. On Saturday, a group of committee members got together at the club for dinner again; and again I had some leftovers — some of my ribeye steak, which I had for lunch on Sunday.

This week, I'll be going to Boston twice, for an opera on Thursday evening, and the Boston Symphony Friday matinee. I'm not planning any restaurant meals, though.

Meals Away from Home; Snow

The past weekend had a confluence of meals eaten away from home.

I have posted a number of times about having dinner in Boston before a Harvard Musical Association social evening and chamber music concert (scroll down past the bloglist to labels and check out waiter, Seth, or restaurant for at least some of them). I've been going there for years and "everybody knows my name." The first time I was there Seth gave perfect service, so it became my regular spot. When Seth shifted to bartending, Wendy became my favorite. Some people think waiters should be completely impersonal in dealing with the patrons, but I don't agree. Maybe it has to do with the fact that I'm usually alone, but I like it when a waiter has a friendly demeanor, expresses an interest in the book I'm reading, or otherwise makes our dealings somewhat personal. Of course, it can be overdone and become unprofessional or inappropriate, and larger parties don't need it, but for one or two people, it can enhance the dinner, in my opinion.

One of the members of the Race Committee at the yacht club has been organizing monthly dinners for a group of committee members for several years, and I started joining the group a couple of years ago. In the winter, when the yacht club is closed, we go to one of several nearby clubs which is open and which lets members of our club charge meals to our own club accounts.

It happened that Friday was an evening for an HMA concert, so I went to Scollay Square. To my surprise, Wendy was there, and we enjoyed "catching up." I had finished my "restaurant book," David and Goliath, by Malcolm Gladwell — a pretty good book, IMO — and haven't yet chosen another, so I decided to bring my Kindle and read something on it. When I opened the cover, I got a low battery graphic and could go no farther, so I ended up working newspaper puzzles I had brought along to do in the subway. At the end of dinner, I explained this to Wendy, and she was happy to have the explanation because when I arrived, she told a new waitress, "That's Mr. [Naturgesetz.] He comes here on Friday nights when he's going to a concert, and he brings a book to read. So she was able to explain the aberration to the other waitress.

Saturday evening was our yacht club group's monthly dinner, this time at a nearby country club. The food was okay, although my veal schnitzel was a bit tough. I didn't finish it, and took home the leftovers, which made a hearty lunch on Monday. The guy to my left and I eventually started talking about politics. Fortunately we were in agreement that we didn't want Trump to be nominated and that the reason so many Republicans are in revolt against the party leadership is that they've been led to believe that they can have everything they want if they elect the candidates they like. So they have no understanding of politics as the art of the possible and see all compromise as a betrayal. We'd both prefer Jeb Bush, Chris Christie, or Marco Rubio.

My cousin from Iowa is here visiting his 96 year old mother. She was in a very bad auto accident (rear-ended as a passenger) and spent a couple of months in medical facilities. She's back in her own home where she gets by with the help of a good friend. My brother and I had lunch with the aunt and cousin on Sunday in a popular local restaurant: a pleasant family gathering.


Sunday night it snowed and I took a few pictures of snow on the tree branches, snow on the house across the street, and snow on the rhododendrons. Regrettably, when I try to add them to this post, they don't show up in the photo app, even though they are there when I open the app independently. It's a puzzlement. If I ever figure out how to get at them to bring here, I'll post some .

Time to Remember the Month of September

A couple of days ago I looked at the list of my posts on this blog, and I was amazed to see that I haven't posted anything since September 2. So it's about time for an update.

My sister-in-law came for a visit, beginning on Wednesday, September 3. My brother met her at the airport and drove her out here. As it happened, Donald Teeters, a fairly well-known conductor in this area, had recently died, and his funeral was that evening. He had taught her conducting when she was at New England Conservatory, and had visited her school and was a guest in her home one time when he visited Japan. So she wanted to go to the funeral. I brought her to the subway and helped her figure out how to get to her destination. One of her classmates, who lives in eastern Massachusetts, played the organ at the funeral, and gave her a ride home. I still hadn't had my dinner when she got back, so I  shared with her. The gala welcoming dinner of steak was postponed, as was the plan, to Thursday evening.

On Friday, she wanted to visit her organ teacher from the conservatory. The teacher now lives in an assisted living facility about a 50 minute drive from here. I was tied up when she needed to go, so my brother drove her there. About 2 ½ hours later, I went to bring her back. I took a route back home through an area which has very little traffic — country roads through the woods. But along the way there was an ice cream stand, and we each had some, which was refreshing, since the day was hot. That evening it was time for the gala farewell dinner — boiled lobster, steamed mussels, corn on the cob, sponge cake with fruit and whipped cream.

On Saturday morning I brought her to South Station in Boston so she could take the express train to New York where she spent several days visiting my nephew. He and his girlfriend have moved in together, and one feature of the visit was my sister meeting the girlfriend's mother. I understand they got along well. In the olden days, the next step would be for the kids to get married. I hope they will, but nobody's said anything about. Somebody's got to transmit those Naturgesetz family genes to the next generation.


The next big event was my "annual" check-up with my primary care physician on the 11th. He couldn't find anything wrong, except for a bit of ringworm near my right nipple — Gold Bond powder should eventually clear it up. He conducts the exam very conversationally, and of course, I like the chance to be naked with someone pleasant like him. I don't remember other doctors checking for testicular cancer, but he does, and I was surprised at how gently he felt my testicles on both visits — my previous doctor retired and this was my second time with this doctor.


My last Race Committee assignment was on Saturday the 13th. It was a fairly windy day with choppy seas. We had a problem with the mechanical winch which hauls up the anchor. Fortunately, we discovered it early in the day, and by the time we needed to haul up the anchor, the boy who drives the boat and shoots the signal cannons had figured out how to get it working.


The following Thursday, the concert season began for me with the opening night of the Boston Symphony, followed on Friday with a concert by the Boston Artists Ensemble at Salem's historic Hamilton Hall. If you follow the link and then go to "Community" and then to "Lectures" you can read about a series that my mother used to attend for many years. I'm happy to know that they still serve bouillon.


I was invited to dinner with friends on Saturday and then there were two events on Sunday afternoon. First was the funeral of a long-time sailor and member of the yacht club — also an avid and accomplished skier. After the service, the family had a reception at the yacht club. Coincidentally, when I was at the Hamilton Hall website just now, the widow was in the picture at the top of the "Community" page. She's the one on the right. Before that reception was over, I had to go to the other end of the club building to join an "Octoberfest" for the race Committee. Many years ago, I used to bring German Oktoberfest beer and German style cold cuts out to the Race Committee boat for the last event, which fell within Oktoberfest in the old country. Circumstances changed, and it didn't work anymore, but people kept asking for me to revive it. Finally this year, club management put on an event ashore, with advice from me as to what it should include (roast chicken, bratwurst, weisswurst, sauerkraut, potato salad, and Oktoberfest beer from Munich). So it was actually more like the real thing than what I could do on a boat.


The rest of the month was fairly routine. There is a thirty year old guy I've known for a dozen or more years. Last winter he was hospitalized for depression, and now he's moved back to his parents' home. I know he's interested in music, so I thought it might be helpful for him too get out to some of the concerts I go to, so I've given him a list of everything I have planned over the season (basically through April) and said if there are any he'd like to go to, just let me know. We'll see if anything ever comes of it. He mentioned, when I gave him the list, that he especially likes baroque music, which is largely lacking in the concerts I attend. I'll have to keep alert for possibilities from Boston Baroque and the Boston Early Music Festival.