End of an Era — Scollay Square Restaurant

A topic of a number of my posts has been having dinner at Scollay Square Restaurant in Boston (apply the filter restaurants) where Seth worked as a waiter for a number of years (apply the filter Seth). Seth was always friendly and interested in the books I was reading. The food was enjoyable, so it was a good place to go for dinner before Harvard Musical Association concerts and I made it my regular restaurant for those occasions. Several readers of this blog visited me over the years, and I brought them there to see the place I was writing about.

It started out fairly upscale, but after a year or two they eliminated the top of the line items, with a corresponding reduction in the overall price level. Patio seating during warm weather was popular, but I guess overall patronage was never as good as it should have been because the trend to commonplace items continued, apparently to try to attract more patrons.

Last November 16, I went there, and I was shocked at how few people were there: a couple of people at the bar and three ladies at a table. While I was there maybe six more customers arrived. This was considerably less business than I had ever seen there. I hoped it was just an off night for some reason.

Various factors such as weather, scheduling conflicts,  or just not feeling like making the effort to go to Boston led to my not going to another HMA evening until April 5. When I got to the Scollay Square, the windows were covered inside with brown paper. I was disappointed, but in, light of my experience in November, not entirely shocked to find it closed. It was a good place to have as my regular pre-HMA restaurant for ten years, and I'm sorry it's no longer there as a familiar, if occasional, presence.

This meant that I needed to find another place for dinner. I checked out several places in the area, but they were offering burgers and sandwiches, and I wanted normal entrees. There was a spot called Carrie Nation just down the block from Scollay Square. The second time I went by it, I decided that it was the best I could do at that point, so in I went. The maitre d' seemed to think that he didn't have a table available, but the manager happened by and told him to seat me in the section by the window. Looking at the menu I found a number of attractive choices and settled on oysters, followed by salmon and lentils with a house salad. Everything was good. After putting in my cocktail order I noticed a specialty cocktail which includes rye whiskey and grand marnier that I'd like to try. Service was good. In a way, although the ambience is very different, it's reminiscent of what the Scollay Square was when I first went there. So I want to go back and have some of the other items they offer, and I'll probably make it my regular place.

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.

Losing Auto Registration, Riding the Bus

On Wednesday I opened a letter from my automobile insurance agency and found a notice that the insurance company had cancelled my policy for non-payment of premium* and notified the Registrar of Motor Vehicles. This had two, related consequences: I could no longer drive my car because it was unregistered and uninsured; and I had to turn in my registration plates to the Registry.

The first consequence was going to be difficult to work around. I was planning to go to Boston that evening to have dinner at Scollay Square Restaurant (and read some of Water for Elephants in honor of Seth while there) and to attend a concert at the Harvard Musical Association. Instead of driving to the subway station, I'd have to take the bus. Eventually, I printed out a copy of the bus schedule, and realized that by the time I could get to Boston, it would be too late to have dinner and get to the concert. So I opted for dinner. I found that by bus t takes about 20 minutes longer to get to and from the subway station as it does by car. And of course, one can't just hop on the bus anytime as one can get into a car and go. You have to be at the bus stop when the bus gets there (hopefully on time), and on the way home you have to wait for the bus again. So overall, the commuting time is probably 1/2 hour longer each way. The good news is that with my "senior citizen" discount, the fare is only 85¢ per trip. So instead of paying $5.00 to park in the garage, I only had to pay $1.70 for the bus. And the additional travel time can be used reading. I might add that the ride itself was not unpleasant. When the time comes that I can't drive, if I can still walk to the bus stop, it won't be too bad.

The second consequence was far worse. That registration number had been in the family for years, probably since the 1920's. In Massachusetts, registration numbers of five or fewer digits (and no letters or other graphics) are highly prized. Mine had originally belonged to a female cousin of my father's, and she was probably the first person to whom it was issued, I'd guess in the 1930's. She had no children, and when she died, she left it to my father. When he died, my mother got it, and when she stopped driving in 1997, I got her car, along with the registration number, and have kept both until now. Losing the number would be highly embarrassing.

Of course, I called the agency as soon as I read their letter to see if there was any way to save the number. They called me back the following morning, and it turned out that if I paid the remaining balance on the insurance policy, the company would reinstate the policy, and would notify the Registry and I'd get to keep the number. It was all accomplished over the phone and by e-mail, and by 9:30 a.m. I could be on the road again. Despite the fact that it cost me $3.30 more to park in the garage than to go by bus to the subway, I took my car for my trip to Boston for the symphony concert on Thursday.


* At the end of December, I had paid 1/4 of the premium for the year, so I figured I was good through March and I wasn't particularly concerned when I got a bill for a small amount in January, and I never even opened the envelope which arrived in mid-February, figuring it was just a reminder. It turns out it was the statutory notice of cancellation, which has to be issued 20 days before the policy is actually cancelled. As it happened, I paid several bills on Tuesday and in the wee hours of Wednesday morning, and the insurance bill was one I almost got to. Of course, by then, it would have been too late. Although I didn't get the letter until Wednesday, the revocation actually happened on Monday.

The agent I spoke to on Thursday said I could pay either the full balance or the minimum due. Of course, not wanting to give myself the chance of missing another payment, I chose to pay the full balance. So now I'm good through the end of the year, if I don't forget to renew the actual registration, which expires at the end of May.

Going to Boston; Buying (and Reading) Books; Trump

Boston

At my age, the MBTA (Metropolitan Boston Transit Authority) gives me a discount on traveling on their systems — subway, bus, and commuter rail. At present, the only one I'm using is the subway, which I can ride for $1.10 per trip. They give me a card which I load with money which gets deducted each time I use it. Back in January, the card stopped working, so I had to go get a new one. I liked my picture on the old one better.

Recently, I've become aware of fare jumpers taking advantage of my entry. I tap my card to the target and the gates open. After I go through, somebody follows before the gates close. There's a loud honking sound, which would alert police if they were there. A few weeks ago, four young guys followed me through. When I realized what they had done, I confronted them. I emphatically explained that the system need the fare money to pay the drivers and to maintain the equipment and tracks. When people like them evade paying their fares, it means less funding for the system they're using. They should be ashamed of themselves. Then I stalked away.

If you read my music blog, you know that I went to Boston for symphony concerts on three Thursday evenings in January and another three in February, with the cancellation of the Feb. 9 concert reducing the February count from four. I've attended fewer Harvard Musical Association concerts on Fridays than usual. For one thing, they've scheduled several on Thursdays. For another, the weather was too uninviting on a one or two occasions.

On the one time I did go in on a Friday, I went, as usual, to Scollay Square restaurant. Surprisingly, Wendy the waitress was there and we enjoyed chatting. She told me that Seth, the former waiter, had gotten married last fall and no longer worked there at all.

I also went in twice to see my spiritual director, and once for a Handel and Haydn Society concert on a Sunday afternoon.


Books

Perhaps inspired by hearing about Seth, I finally decided to buy Water for Elephants, which he had recommended to me back in the fall of 2010. I got it for me Kindle and started reading it on my subway rides last week. It's a very engrossing book, and I highly recommend it. Hopefully, I'll still be reading it the next time I get to Scollay Square. It would be nice to be reading the book Seth recommended in the place where he made the recommendation.

And this has put me on a book-buying spree. First, I decided to get three books in the "Hinges of History" series by Thomas Cahill:

• Sailing the Wine-Dark Sea: Why the Greeks Matter,
• Mysteries of the Middle Ages: And the Beginnings of the Modern World, and
• Heretics and Heroes: How Renaissance Artists and Reformation Priests Created our World.

I already had read the first three of the series, How the Irish Saved Civilization, Desire of the Everlasting Hills, and The Gifts of the Jews, years ago, when they were first published. The series is popularized history, but I've found them a nice refresher on things which I had studied back in high school and college. (Minor annoyance: I bought the first three and Sailing the Wine-Dark Sea in hardcover, but I inadvertently ordered the last two in paperback, so they won't match the other on a bookshelf. Oh well. I'm trying to tell myself that the content of the books is more important.)

Then, in my nostalgic "remembering Seth" mood, I decided to check out the other book he had mentioned, The Shadow of the Wind, by Carlos Ruiz Zafón. It looked pretty interesting so I ordered it on Kindle.

Finally, a couple of hours ago, I put in an order for the highly acclaimed Hillbilly Elegy: A Memoir of a Family and Culture in Crisis, by J. D. Vance. Supposedly it helps us understand Trump voters, but I think it sounds worthwhile in its own right.


Trump

Speaking of Trump, he continues to astonish. Every now and then, there is some small event that suggests he's beginning to understand the job of President. His speech to Congress was, apart from the digs at Obama, actually presidential-sounding. It could have been given by a moderate Republican or Democrat, as some commentators have pointed out. But the comes the accusation that Obama wiretapped him. While it is conceivable that Obama could have ordered the FBI or NSA to seek a warrant for such a wiretap, given the denials that were immediately forthcoming it seems unlikely. On the other hand, it seems to go almost without saying that we were spying on the Russians, and if Trump's people were in touch with them, they probably would have showed up.

For Trump to say publicly that he didn't believe the Director of the FBI is shocking. It was also astonishing to hear that he was furious with Jeff Sessions for — properly — recusing himself from any investigation of Russian involvement in the campaigns.

All in all, it seems that he still thinks he should be running everything. He seems to believe what he wants to believe, regardless of the evidence. My hope, and expectation, is that his cabinet and the Republicans in Congress will refuse to let him get away with anything truly unconstitutional and talk him out of anything really unwise. But we should also bear in mind that he was elected on the basis of his campaign promises, so he's entitled to at least try to fulfill those promises.

Lunch with College Classmates and Their Wives

From time to time I've mentioned getting together with a couple of college classmates Dan and John and their wives for dinner. (E.g., here and here.) Last Saturday, we got together for lunch. Another classmate, John B, and his wife also joined us. It was part of a fairly busy day. I had told them that I'd have to leave by 3:00 so I could get home in time to attend my parish's "Mass of Remembrance" and the unrelated dinner that would follow it. Lunch was to be at 1:00 at a harbor side seafood restaurant in Boston, about 45 minutes' drive from my home. After all that was planned, a fellow parishioner asked me to meet him in the morning to tell him what the scripture scholar, who comes to our parish a couple of times a year, had said in the last lecture of a recent three lecture series. That get together lasted from 10:00 to 11:30.

John and Maureen were there when I arrived a couple of minutes before 1:00, and Dan and Carolyn arrived soon after. John B and Winnie got delayed by traffic coming up from the Cape, but were there by 20 past. I followed John's example and had a bloody mary. As usual, we talked for a while, but owing to my time constraints we had our orders in by 1:45. I decided on the fish in a bag because it had mushrooms. The bag turned out to be cellophane, and the fish was steamed in it. It was brought to the table opened. It was good, maybe not the best fish ever, but enjoyable.

The conversation was pleasant. Despite Maureen's rule of No Politics, imposed after an evening in which we got into a fairly heated argument, this time we managed to get in a few brief exchanges about the election and the President-elect. I think we all agree that Trump isn't fit for the job, and much will depend on the people he selects and listens to. There was also a lot of talk about family (John and Maureen's extended family is fairly large) and some about travel. At one point a couple of books were mentioned, and I took the opportunity to give a strong recommendation for Destiny of the Republic, by Candice Millard, about James A. Garfield. As soon as I mentioned it, John B. chimed in (see what I did there?*) with an enthusiastic second to my suggestion. He then gave me a couple of other titles — one by Millard — that he thought I'd like. Sometimes there was one conversation going on, sometimes several smaller ones.

It was a fairly pricey afternoon. We decided to split the tab equally, and Dan took charge of the check. It think in included the tax in figuring the tip, and rounded up rather generously, with the result that the tip was about 28% of the total and 37% of the pre-tax amount. Anyway, we paid $50 per person. Parking in the garage was another $29 (The garage at the subway station nearest my home charges $5.) But it was worth it: I can spend as much on a dinner alone, and this was maintaining friendships.

I had a couple of apprehensions beforehand. One is that typically the conversation can go on almost endlessly (the waitress has to come back maybe four times before people decide to order), and that would have been a problem for my getting home in time for the Mass. But they took care of that. The other is that sometimes the conversation includes long stretches of Dan and John exchanging news about classmates with whom I was not acquainted, or only barely so, That makes for a pretty boring time. But this time there was little, if any of that. So it worked out well, and I was home in good time.

* In college, John B was a member of the a cappella octet called The Chimes. I only caught the allusion after I wrote "chimed in."

Hallowe'en Dinner

After cooking and helping serve dinner at the homeless shelter, I went to one of my favorite restaurants. I figured the two events would keep me away from home during trick-or-treat hours. My problem with trick or treat is that the front doorbell is broken, which means that I  have to stay close enough to the door to hear people approach. This precludes doing anything else for about 3 hours, and it especially means that I can't do anything on my computer. So rather than just sit by the door all that time, I try to find something to do away from the house, so I can leave it dark.

I left for the shelter at about 4:30 and got through at about 7:15. I arrived at the restaurant at about 7:40 and finished dinner abut 9:20.

Hallowe'en is, of course, the Vigil of All Saints (all Hallows) Day. Traditionally, the vigil days of major feast days in the church calendar were days of fasting. That is why, for example, the Italians have a tradition of the "dinner of seven fishes" on Christmas. One couldn't eat meat on fast days. On the other hand they wanted to celebrate even on Christmas eve, so they developed a meatless banquet.

I hadn't specifically planned to have a meatless meal for the vigil, but as it happened, I chose the snails for an appetizer and the scallops for the main course. They were both delicious, as were the sidecar before Dinner, the Sancerre wine to accompany the main course, and the coffee and creme brûlée to finish.

One reason I go to this particular restaurant, which is kind of pricey — apart from the good food — is that the proprietor recognized me the minute I walked in the first time I went there.  I had been helpful to his daughter several year earlir, and, although I never would have remembered him, he remembered me. So he has been very cordial to me, and often comps one or two items from my check. This evening he didn't get to intercept the check, so I paid full price, but then he gave me a gift card to use on my next visit.

I may be living slightly beyond my means, but until the money runs out (if it runs out before I do), it's nice to be able to give patronize places where people know and like me, to celebrate major feast days in the church calendar, and to give generous tips to the waitstaff.

Dinner and a Concert

Last Friday evening, January 29, I had one of my occasional Friday evenings in Boston. It was typical in overall format, but it was special in several ways.


As usual, I went to Scollay Square for dinner. Wendy the waitress was there. She told me that she had not been scheduled to work that evening, but when she realized I'd be there, she made a switch with someone. Actually, my schedule is not as regular as she thought — every second Friday — but she happened to be right about that day. She wanted to let me know that it would be her last Friday evening there. From now on, she'll be working at lunchtime on Fridays, on Saturday evenings, and maybe another weekday evening.

She waited on me and we had a couple of nice chats. She asked about the book I was reading. It's one I had just begun, Pretty Good Number One: An American Family Eats Tokyo, by Matthew Amster-Burton. It tells of the month he, his wife, and their eight year old daughter spent in Tokyo, living in a small apartment in Nakano, on the outskirts of the city. The principal topic seems to be the varieties of food available in Japan — along with a fair amount on Japanese culture and customs. He loves the food and the city, and, as suggested by the title, he also has a sense of humor. I had Wendy read the following paragraph:

Tokyo is not a beautiful place, but it metes out its charms with almost scientific regularity. Each time one of us went for a walk, we came back with exciting news: a peculiar old building, a funny sign, a family of cats, a new kind of yogurt-flavored candy. Yes, Iris [the daughter] went out often for unaccompanied walks; to my knowledge, she was never forced to join the yakuza [the Japanese mob], although she occasionally came back with a suspicious tattoo.

 He adds that "Good food is so easy to find in Tokyo that the city itself seems like a restaurant. In over a month, we had one meal that I found disappointing, and it wasn't actually bad, just bland."
Asking me about my book is one of the things I liked about Seth, and when I'm alone I like that sort of personal interaction.

Wendy also told me that the miso-glazed salmon, which I once called "Best. Salmon. Ever." in a review can be requested the original way they did it, which is over saffron rice and sautéed spinach. Now it comes over lobster mashed potato, which is okay, but the rice & spinach was better. Wendy said that at lunch, it still is served with the rice and spinach, and they should be able to do it that way for me at dinner.


By the time I got to the Harvard Musical Association, the concert had begun, so I had to listen from outside the opened doors until they finished their first numbers. Then I got a seat. The performers were a men's singing group called Renaissance Men (RenMen for short) — a name which refers not to their repertoire but to the term "Renaissance man" used to describe a person with wide interests and learning. Except for one song, they performed a capella and almost all was music composed since 1800. There were a lot of drinking songs, and it was a very enjoyable show.

Afterwards, there was wine and dessert. Usually, I don't stay for the post-concert goodies, but this time I did and spoke with several of them, including Kilian Mooney, who is named for the Irish monk who is the patron saint of Würzburg, Germany. St. Kilian went there as a missionary and was martyred along with his companions Kolonat and Totnan. He had visited the city, as had I, so we had something to chat about for a couple of minutes.


As I headed for the subway afterwards, I was thinking what an enjoyable evening it had been, and how blessed I was to have had not only this evening but my entire life, with all the good things I have been able to enjoy. The title of one of Razz's posts came to mind: "My Life Has Been Perfect."

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 .

Quotidian Activities

In the past month or so, there have been a few things that may be worth writing home about.


Birthday/Anniversary  My brother's wedding anniversary is also his wife's birthday. I procrastinated on sending gifts until the day before. At that point I e-mailed my brother and asked him to get something for her and something for them and bill me via pay-pal. He cooperated, and it worked out pretty well. I'd have liked to do a next day delivery order on amazon, but the Japanese site is, unsurprisingly, in Japanese, and I don't think they take American credit cards. I recall trying once. I found something by following pictures, but I couldn't complete the transaction. So this was better. Maybe sometime I'll learn to shop early enough.


Taxes  For a long time, I used to file my tax returns early — meaning before noon on the day they were due. This year I filed super early — the evening before the due date — using an on line filing system. Sometimes I've owed the feds some money, but never the state. This year, I owed money to both. I guess I'll have to have them take more out of my IRA when I take my next distribution, or else make estimated tax payments.


Car  I have a 1997 Toyota Camry which has a little over 88,000 miles on it. Last year, the mufflers got holes in them, and it became loud, even getting louder as time went on. Last week, I finally took it to a muffler repair shop, where they also found work that needed to be done on the steering and suspension and on the brakes. They also changed the oil and some other fluids and performed the overdue state safety inspection (which it could not have passed before I replaced the exhaust system). Total price, including sales tax on the parts, was $3,000.07. Of that, something over $1,200 was for labor. Since the car was in the shop about five hours, that means they're getting over $240/hr. Nice work if you can get it. Apparently, the labor costs are set by the company — a large chain — for each job performed, since the invoice gives identical amounts for several of the jobs.

It was a higher price than I had anticipated, but then I've been neglecting things for some time, and if this lets me keep the car on the road for another 17 years, that's less than $200 per year. Besides, I put it on my credit card, so it didn't actually cost me anything.


Restaurant  With the end of the concert season, my season for dining at Scollay Square also comes to an end. So last Friday I told them I probably won't be back until October. Wendy the waitress is my favorite since Seth shifted to bartending, and I was at one of her tables. Before I left, she told me that she might get a job in her field of study, which has to do with sustainability and interior design.Of course I wish her well, but I do like having waiters who, when they realize I'm something of a regular, become friendly. So if she stops working there on Fridays, I'll miss her.

There was a party of three at a nearby table and Wendy told me that they were involved in some sort of convention that was going on in Boston. It turns out it was something called Q Talks. The older man in the party was the pastor of the church where it was mostly happening, Tremont Temple, and his wife and son were with him. Wendy told them something about me, and the pastor came over and introduced himself, and I told him something about myself. I learned that he's been involved in high-level ecumenical dialogue as one of the evangelical representatives who have met with Cardinal Kasper and the Vatican agency for promoting Christian unity. I gather that this year's Q Talks became somewhat controversial in church circles because they had panels on the church and gay people which included some participants who favor gay marriage.

As I was finishing my dinner a couple of nice-looking guys were seated at the table beside me. I heard them discussing what they would have, and they didn't seem to be settling on things, so I recommended the miso glazed salmon, which is my favorite dish on the menu. They both ordered it. Unfortunately, I had to leave for the concert before theirs arrived, so I'm not sure how they liked it. But if they like salmon, it's hard to imagine that they wouldn't have liked it a lot.

Recent Doings

We've had a succession of major snowstorms, roughly one a week. The latest ended yesterday. The good thing is that there has been enough time between each to do some clearing. The town has done a good job of removing snow from the principal streets downtown. But elsewhere, the snow just keeps getting piled up. Side streets are often reduced to a single lane's width. This isn't a complaint; it's all they could do. For residents, also, all that can be done is to shovel, snowblow, or plow into ever deeper accumulations.

I have a plowman who has kept my driveway clear, but he's had to create large piles at the street end, leaving about half the width open, while there is full width at the two-car garage door. His assistant shovel the walk to the street and sometimes to the driveway, and I shovel them when I need to get in or out before they get here.

After the first storm, I shoveled the front sidewalk (I live on a corner lot.) in stages from my property line about ⅔ of the way to the intersection, breaking through the windrows at each end so people could get in and out. The next door neighbor cleared the sidewalk in front of his house, but didn't do the 10 feet from his driveway to the property line.

After the second storm, the neighbor cleared that 10 feet, but I never got around to shoveling my sidewalk. As the third storm was winding down, I started shoveling the sidewalk. I was beginning my second session of "recreational shoveling" and had gone no more than 20 feet when a couple of guys came by in a truck and offered to do the sidewalk with their snowblower. At first I declined, but then I realized that it would take me hours to finish it, and agreed to hire them to do it for $40. The snow was maybe 4 feet deep where the snowplows had piled it, so they had to work as a team— one with a shovel loosening the snow and lowering it so the snowblower could handle it. It took them about 25 minutes to finish the job. The older guy gave me his phone number so I could get in touch with him to come back after the storm was over.

There wasn't enough for me to need them then, but I've called and I expect them to come and clear the sidewalk today. This fourth storm didn't fill in the path along the sidewalk, but it's deep enough that it needs to be cleared.


I took some pictures after the first storm, but then my camera gave me a message telling me to reinsert the memory stick. I did it several times, but it kept giving me the message. So I went to my i-Pod, which unfortunately doesn't give quite such clear images. Then, while I was describing things to my brother during his weekly phone call from Japan, I got the idea of removing and reinserting the memory stick while the camera was powered down (previously I had done it without powering down), and darned if that didn't work! So I've taken a number of pictures over the weekend.


On Friday the 6th, I was driving to the subway station when I began to need to go to the bathroom. I decided that I'd never be able to get to the restaurant, or even the subway station, so I turned around and came home. I dashed into the house and got to the toilet before my digestive system unloaded its contents. I haven't seen my house key since then. I don't think I dropped it into the toilet, but apparently I dropped it somewhere in my haste. Fortunately, I found a spare, so I can lock the door when I go out, but I wish I could find the first one so I can let the spare be a spare.

I've managed to get out a few times. First was dinner at a local restaurant on February 5th with a priest who used to be assigned to my parish and who was born a week before me. Then on the 10th I went to a new restaurant, which turned out to be better than I had expected. The food was very good. When the main course (a delicious steak) was served, the wine didn't show up to accompany it, so after a few bites I went back to reading my book. The owner came over and asked if there was a problem. When I told him I was waiting for the wine, he "comped" it. It's not something that would happen everywhere. All I expected was an apology and a speedy delivery of the wine. So this may become my regular local restaurant — not that I eat often at restaurants when I'm in town.

On Thursday the 12th, I went to Symphony. Because of various problems caused by the storm, the subways were spotty, so I left home earlier than usual, and got to Symphony Hall in plenty of time. I've written on my other blog about the concert itself. I figure every premiere, whether it's a world premiere or the American or the BSO's, is a once in a lifetime occasion, so I like to attend them if possible when they're at Symphony Hall with the BSO.

A group of us were planning to go to dinner on Saturday evening, but the weather forecasts led us to decide to cancel the plans. As it turned out, the storm wasn't too bad, and we probably wouldn't have had a problem, but given the forecasts it was wise to cancel. It was predicted to snow from Saturday afternoon until Sunday evening, but it was over by noon on Sunday.

Today (Monday) was very cold (below 20°F all day). The guys with the snowblower didn't call or show up, so I went out in mid-afternoon and began shoveling the front sidewalk. I got just a bit less than half of it done. Tomorrow I've got some appointments, and light snow is predicted, but I should be able to get it finished, or nearly so.

Christmas (so far) and New Year's Day (with pictures)

As I mentioned in my previous post, my big brother arrived on the evening of December 23 to spend the holidays with me, returning to Boston on January 2. Then he came here for his usual weekend visit, arriving Saturday evening, January 3, and leaving after lunch today (Sunday). It's too bad I don't feel close to him. It could be fun if we were good friends. but even when he's here, we mostly keep to ourselves.

I had put the window candles in place on December 14 (a bit earlier than I usually do), and on Christmas Eve I put a quilt with a Christmas design on one door and a wreath on another one and set out a small Nativity scene. I also put the Christmas tree on the mantel in the living room. They'll probably stay until next Sunday, the Feast of the Baptism of Jesus, which is the official end of Christmastide in the Catholic Church.

The quilt.

Nativity scene.

Christmas tree. We haven't had a full sized tree since my mother died ten years ago. The expense and effort of getting one, decorating it, and then taking it down just seem too much when only the two of us are here, much as I like the way it looked.

Clicking on the pictures should enlarge them.

For Christmas, we exchanged a couple of presents, and there were gifts from our brother and s-i-l in Japan. He gave me a Red Sox wall calendar, as usual, two potholders with music-related designs, and some metal cubes to put in the freezer and use to chill drinks without diluting them. While I think my cocktails are improved by having ice melt in them (up to a point, anyway), the metal cubes could be very useful for insufficiently chilled white wine and soft drinks and maybe substitute for some of the ice in cocktails. I gave him the perennial 12 pack of beer and something or other else (if I remember, I'll tell you). From Japan came long underwear (my request) towels, cherry flavored Dijon mustard, and the book The Lost Art of Finding Our Way, by John Edward Huth. The dust jacket blurb begins, "Long before GPS, Google Earth, and global transit, humans traveled vast distances using only environmental clues and simple instruments. John Huth asks what is lost when modern technology substitutes for our innate capacity to find our way." It sounds fascinating; I'll probably make it my table reading after my current book, The Piano Shop on the Left Bank.

One of my brother's gifts from the Japanese kinfolk was the book Christendom Destroyed: Europe 1517 - 1648, by Mark Greengrass, Emeritus Professor of Early Modern History at the University of Sheffield. The dust jacket has the heading "The revolutionary emergence of a divided Europe in the shadow of Christendom's collapse," and the following blurb begins, "This latest addition to the landmark Penguin History of Europe series is a fascinating study of sixteenth- and seventeenth-century western Europe and the dramatic changes that led to the collapse of Christendom and established the geographical and political frameworks of western Europe as we know it." A few days ago he said he had started reading it, but found it too scattered, not following a strict timeline but jumping chronologically as themes and concepts are developed. So he's leaving it here. I'm looking forward to reading it for two reasons. One is that it may be an interesting companion to Brad Gregory's The Unintended Reformation: How a Religious Revolution Secularized Society. The other is that it can be an interesting thing to read in the run-up to the 400th anniversary of Luther's 95 theses. I also have Mark Noll's book, Is the Reformation Over? 

With those two books, I've got a good deal of good reading to look forward to.

On Christmas Eve I prepared a "Feast of the Two Fishes," as a nod to the southern Italian tradition of the Christmas Eve Feast of the Seven Fishes. I sautéed shrimp and scallops with garlic in a combination of olive oil and butter, and accompanied it with tricolor rotini with alfredo sauce from a jar, and salad. While we were eating it, my brother said, "This is a better dinner than we will have tomorrow [when we were to go to our aunt's]." I was amazed and very pleased, of course.

The dinner on Christmas was roast boneless leg of lamb with potatoes, squash, green beans, mint jelly, and gravy, preceded by cheese and crackers and a nice cream cheese dip, and followed by pumpkin and pecan pies. It was a good meal, but I don't think my brother changed his opinion about which meal was the better. There were six of us there, and while it wasn't a high-spirited gathering, it was a pleasant group to be part of for the five hours we were there.

Continuing the food theme — on the 26th I decided to have a rib roast of beef, something I almost never do. Unfortunately, at the end of the 15-20 minutes at very high temperature, instead of turning the oven down to cooking temperature for the remaining time, I inadvertently turned it off. By the time I noticed my mistake, it was 1 ½ hours later, and dinner was delayed accordingly. Saturday evening we had lobster, Sunday leftover beef. Monday we went to a restaurant, and Tuesday we had leftovers from the restaurant. Unfortunately, the restaurant closed on New Year's Eve. I had been in business for a couple of years. I rarely eat in restaurants other than before concerts and plays in Boston, but this was a good one, and I enjoyed going there for birthdays and similar occasions. Apparently there are too many restaurants around. A lot have come and gone over the years, and this one just never quite caught on, never had the success its quality deserved. Wednesday was similar to Christmas Eve but with just shrimp, no scallops. I wasn't able to find a duck for New Year's Day, so we had to settle for lamb chops. Friday I was on my own and had my familiar baked stuffed haddock. Last night, in honor of Epiphany, I cooked another rib roast, getting the oven temperatures right this time. It came out well, but we ate less than half of it. I had thought when I bough it that my brother might stay through this evening and we could again enjoy leftovers.

At this point, I have about four pounds of leftover roast beef as well as a lobster body, some pork casserole from the Sunday before Christmas, and still some leftover pasta from the restaurant. I can combine the lobster and pasta into a soup for lunch one day, eat the pork thing today for supper, and have leftover beef for three weekday dinners. That will probably still leave one or two meals' worth of beef for later on. It looks as if I won't be spending much for food this week.

The only other event worth mentioning is that we were invited to have eggnog and cookies on Tuesday evening December 30 at the home of the couple who invite us to Thanksgiving dinner. There were eight people there altogether, and it was fairly quiet (we're all over 70) but pleasant company. It's a good thing the eggnog wasn't too strongly alcoholic, since I had to drive home. Among the edibles was some stollen, which was pretty good. Later, it occurred to me that one could speak of the event as "stollen moments."

New Year's eve we stayed home. I think my brother was in bed before midnight (he isn't always), and I was here at my computer when 2015 hit, so I calmly said "Happy New Year." As good Catholics, we went to Mass on January 1 — nothing special after that.

My brother never helps with meal preparation — which is one reason I wanted to go to the restaurant one evening: preparing a full dinner for both of us day after day somehow feels like more of an effort than preparing one for myself on weekdays and for both of us on weekends. But he was very good about doing the dishes after every dinner. Sometimes I'd come to help dry them.

Well, it wasn't a spectacular time really, but with the two gatherings, as well as my brother's presence and the sparse decorations, it was something different from the weekly routines.

Big Brother's Birthday

Monday was my brother's birthday. In recent years, my birthday and Christmas presents to him have usually been 12-packs of beer. For his birthday, I have also taken him to dinner at a nice restaurant. This year, however, he asked me to either give him a present or take him to dinner, and I chose the restaurant dinner.

As my American readers (and maybe others) will know, it was a holiday weekend. My brother is usually here for dinner on Saturday. Sometimes he stays for dinner on Sunday, and sometimes he goes back to Boston on Sunday afternoon. This weekend, however, there was the Monday holiday. So the question was whether to have the restaurant dinner on Sunday or Monday.

Since we usually have steak or some other red meat for dinner on Saturday, I bought steak for Saturday. For the second dinner at home (Sunday or Monday), I bought pork chops. After those purchases were made, my brother told me that he was going to a party with one of the racing fleets on Saturday. That meant that  we'd have the steak on the non-restaurant evening, and I'd need to set the pork chops aside and figure out how to use them. Then we talked about when to go to the restaurant, and he indicated that he would like to return to Boston during the day on Monday — meaning that we'd go to the restaurant on Sunday, and there would be no occasion for him to have the steak. So I decided to have half of the steak on Saturday and the other half on Monday.

The dinner at the restaurant was very good. I had a "side salad," which was very generous, with a tasty ranch-style dressing, and a frutta (sic) di mare which was quite tasty — shrimp, scallops, lobster and pasta with a red sauce — and again a large portion. My brother started with a shrimp scampi appetizer and also chose the frutta di mare. I couldn't finish the salad, and neither of us could finish the main course. My brother ate all the seafood and left most of the pasta; but I ate both parts equally, so I had leftovers from both courses to take home.

With the leftovers for my dinner on Tuesday, and my sister-in-law arriving on Wednesday for a three day visit (which I hope to blog about), I see no chance to use the pork chops until Sunday at the earliest, so they are in the freezer for now.

I also found a nice birthday card. On the front it said "A long long long time ago …" in a Star Wars type of layout. Inside it continued "you were born." There was also a device that played the Star Wars theme when the card was opened. For the past 30 or more years, he's been giving me cards about my being old, and I've been returning the favor.

Despite my grousing about not being able to use the pork chops, it was an enjoyable celebration.

A Visit from Mark and Other Recent Things

     My friend Mark managed to get a few days off work and came for a visit. His bus arrived on Monday at 1:35 p.m., and departure was on Wednesday evening at 7:40.

     I met him at South Station in Boston, and we had lunch at a bar I'm the station — my first cuban sandwich ever. It was good, but I probably won't be having one every month.He had a vegetarian sandwich which he liked. When we got to my place, I checked the internet for a while. Eventually we got undressed and watched the Red Sox game on TV. Then Mark felt a little cold and "dressed for dinner." Dinner included pork cutlets, marsala style. Mark was tired, having had to get up early for the bus from Syracuse, and went to bed. I stayed up for several hours at my computer.

     The previous week, my Race Committee duties had taken me past Hammond Castle, which I had never visited despite having known of it for over 60 years. It occurred to me that Mark might like to go there too. Also on Cape Ann is a smaller building, Beauport, the Sleeper-McCann House. It's near the retreat house on Eastern Point, Gloucester, where I've gone a couple of times; and I noticed it when I was walking around in the neighborhood. I'd wanted to see it sometime. Mark hadn't seen either place when he was working in Massachusetts and was interested in seeing them. We toured the castle on our own and found it quite impressive. At Beauport we arrived just in time to join a guided tour which was beginning. Although each room was in an early American style, each had a distinctive theme, and the explanations of the tour guide made it more interesting. Afterwards, we agreed that Beauport had been a little more interesting than Hammond Castle, although both are worth seeing.

     For lunch, we headed over to Essex for fried clams at Woodman's, the best known fried clam place in Massachusetts (and perhaps worldwide). They were founded in 1914, and they say their founder invented fried clams in 1916. The clams were quite good, but we were both surprised at the prices — although I must admit I haven't bought fried clams in ages, so I don't know how other places' prices compare. Neither of us had been to Woodman's before. So the whole excursion was a time of firsts for us both.

     Back at home, we got out of our clothes. I showed Mark some music videos I like. Later we settled in front of the TV for the Red Sox game. After the game, Mark felt a bit cold, so he got dressed. He expressed an interest in having some pasta with alfredo sauce, so I cooked some tricolor rotini and boiled some peas and combined them with some alfredo sauce. I also had some leftover london broil steak which I reheated for us.

     On Wednesday, there was another first for both of us: the New England Aquarium. There was a lot to be seen, but with limited time, we did not linger and read all the captions at each of the dozen or more varied habitat displays. The big tank was not as large as I had expected. Our overall conclusion was that it was good but somewhat of a disappointment. Nevertheless, I wouldn't mind going back and spending more time at the small exhibits.

     Then we strolled around for a while and went to the nearby Legal Sea Foods for dinner. Mine was a shrimp, garlic, tomato, and mushroom combination which was large enough to be my dinner on Friday as well. We had left Mark's luggage (backpack and small bag) in my car at the subway station garage. So we had to go back and get them. I went back into Boston with Mark to be sure he would find the way to South Station. Once he was sure of the way, I headed home.

     Mark brought some zucchini bread which he had made, and we both enjoyed it from time to time. I had the last of it after he was gone. It was good by itself, and also with butter and cream cheese.

     It was a very nice visit. In addition to what I've mentioned, we had good conversations about current events and issues as well as about our own doings. If the weather had been warmer and more humid, Mark might have been naked a bit more, but it's not very important. I certainly don't want to pressure him or anybody to be naked, but I think it's nice that we're comfortable enough being naked and being around each other that we're able to indulge our mutual enjoyment of nudity when we feel like it.


     On Friday, I had Race Committee duty. Instead of being on the large "signal boat," I was assigned to duty on one of the mark boats, a 17 foot inflatable "rib craft." It bounced a lot on the waves and required more holding on to something to avoid falling down or being thrown overboard. Today my shoulders and knees are a little sore. I hope it hasn't hastened the approach of arthritis in my knees, which seems to run in my mother's family.

     Last evening I finished Writing on the Wall, by Tom Standage. It was a Christmas gift from my brother in Japan. Standage sees the internet as similar to earlier forms of communication and interaction such as the circular letters of ancient times, pamphlets, and coffeehouses. He contrasts those forms of two-way communication with the one-way forms such as newspapers, radio, and TV, and thinks the two-way forms are better.

"A Midsummer Night's Dream" and Other Doings

I started writing this on March 17, but got tied up with other things. Oh wee, maybe now there will be more to talk abot. We'll see as I go along.)

It's Last week was a big week for concert-going, which I'mve reportinged on my music blog. But in addition, I went last Friday on March 14 to a performance of "A Midsummer Night's Dream" by the Bristol Old Vic from England. I've seen bits and pieces of the play before, and maybe the whole thing once about 30 years ago, but this was unusual in several ways. One was the lack of more than the most minimal scenery. Another was the element of puppetry. Hermia and Theseus became Titania and Oberon by holding masks at arm's length, and Oberon also used a large mechanical hand at the end of a pole (quite skillfully). And Bottom's transformation into an ass was accomplished, not by having him wear the animal's head but by putting oversized donkey ears on his feet, exposing his bottom (for the cheeks to be caressed) and having him wheel himself around the stage on some big contraption. I guess you had to be there. Anyway, it all made about as much sense as is possible for that play, and it got funnier as it went along, culminating with a hilarious "Pyramus and Thisbe."

We're having a mini holiday season, with St. Patrick's  and St. Joseph's days last week, and Annunciation this evening. I celebrated each properly by having dinner in a nice restaurant (and got a fair amount of reading done in my restaurant book, What the Dog Saw, by Malcolm Gladwell).

Tomorrow's Boston Symphony is not part of my subscriptions, but the Harvard Musical Associayion is having a "social evening" for the members, which, as always, includes a concert. I'll have my usual pre-concert dinner at Scollay Square Restaurant. On Friday, I have to go to Boston again for a performance of  Checkhov's "The Seagull" — not entirely sure whether I'l, have dinner at home afterwards, or somewhere in Boston before.

Lent is supposed to be a time of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving; and here I am spending money on nice dinners. Someone suggested that what people should do in Lent is match their restaurant tabs with charitable contributions. I just may do it.

A Pleasant Evening in Boston

The Harvard Musical Association had a string sextet (2 each of violins, violas, and cellos) playing a piece by Korngold (written around 1920, i.e., before he started composing movie scores) and one by Brahms. But first, I went to the Scollay Square for dinner.

Arriving at the restaurant, I saw Wendy the waitress and greeted her enthusiastically. We talked a bit about recent symphony concerts which I had attended. When she came to take my dinner order, she mentioned that they had a shrimp cocktail appetizer, but when I said I had been thinking of trying the "Drunken Shrimp," which I had never had, she said I should have it: it was one of her favorites, and the menu would soon be changing. A couple of ladies came in and were seated at the table to my right. When they were discussing what to order, I recommended the miso glazed salmon, which I sometimes have. One of them had it and liked it. If she hadn't, I would have had Wendy put it on my tab. As I was leaving, I asked if Seth still worked there. He does — on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Saturdays — so I asked her to say hello for me. (Some previous posts in which I mention Wendy, Seth, and other waitstaff.)

At the HMA I had a seat which allowed me to see all the players except the second violin, and I could see that each instrument had different music to play — they didn't have both cellos playing the same thing, or both violas or violins. Both pieces were enjoyable. The previous evening I had left Symphony Hall at intermission rather than stay to hear Brahms' Fourth Symphony. As a rule, I don't like Brahms.* But the sextet was composed when he was still under 30, and he hadn't gone all dissonant and it was pleasant to listen to, so I'm glad I didn't leave at intermission this time.

After the concert we had a supper of shrimp cardinale (here's a link to a recipe and here's another — ours had bits of green in it, maybe chives or parsley) on toast points, followed by a green salad. It was very tasty. I know, it was a lot of food for the evening, but my breakfast had been a bowl of Wheatena with 4 apricots, and my lunch had been three ounces of applesauce and 1 1/2 ounces of muenster cheese — and no beer — so a late supper may not have been really excessive. Anyway, it was good.

At the subway station, there was a man with a supply of little American flags and a sign asking for donations. I gave him a dollar, but declined the flag. I don't need another. BTW, the previous night, a young man got on the subway and started yelling about how his coat had been stolen and he needed money to buy another one at Goodwill because he'd be outdoors all night in the freezing weather because he couldn't get a bed at Pine Street Inn, the homeless shelter. The coat would cost $25, and all he had was $15. He may have been on drugs, and the story may have been a fabrication, but he seemed earnest. Two people across from me gave him a couple of dollars, and I gave him a $10 bill. He thanked us warmly, and when he left the train a couple of stops later he again called out his thanks


*I think the Reason I don't like Brahms is his extensive use of dissonance combined with what I think is called "sfrozando." The instruments sort of push the note and then let it diminish a bit. Well whatever it is, the music seems strained to me — as if someone were sitting on a toilet seat and trying to force a bowel movement and repeatedly grunting as he did so. But dissonance in general is something I don't like a lot of. As I noted on my music blog, I disliked last week's "Daphnis and Chloe" by Ravel, and I think it was also because of the extensive use of dissonance. In fact, it may be that I find atonality easier to take than dissonance which doesn't promptly resolve into consonance.

Catching up

On October 17 I went to a symphony concert, and the following evening I trekked in to Boston again, for a show called "Baritones Unbound." It's a brief look at the history of the baritone voice, especially after it was identified as such in the early 19th Century, and it was having its first run anywhere. It was basically a fun evening — pure entertainment. Apparently it hadn't been booked anywhere else as of when I saw it, but the Three Baritones are hoping to be signed elsewhere. So keep your eyes on the entertainment listings; if you notice it, I think you'll like it.

Over the weekend, I came down with a cold. On Monday morning, I had almost no voice. But there was gradual improvement. I was able to take a visiting cousin to dinner at Scollay Square before I went to symphony on the 24th. She didn't join me for the concert, but the "absolutely gorgeous young man" I wrote about in my previous post was at Symphony Hall that evening — with another guy who wasn't nearly so gorgeous. We happened to meet in the corridor after the concert was ended. It was his companion's first time in Symphony Hall and his first time hearing Mahler's "Lied von der Erde" live. They were both enthusiastic. I wasn't, but I refrained from negative comments. Having heard his name for the third time, I actually remembered it long enough to look him up on social media. It turns out his paternal grandmother was Japanese. (I hadn't noticed anything semi-oriental-looking about his father in pictures — dad's also on social media.) He was actually in Japan a few years ago on some study-abroad program when grandma died, and he described going to the funeral. In case he shows up again, I think I'll call him G.

The following evening, I went to Scollay Square again, before another HMA concert. I had the same waitress as the previous evening, and she recognized me. She was good, but I was sorry not to see Wendy or Blake, the waitress and waiter I had liked last spring, on either visit. With my cold still lingering, I decided to leave before the second half of the concert.

This week, the cold has continued to fade away. Wednesday was another evening at the theater, for "The Power of Duff," about a TV newscaster in Rochester who begins to pray at the end of the news programs after his father dies. Some interesting things happen, but mostly the play is about his attempts to connect with people — especially his estranged wife and alienated 15 year old son — after a lifetime of being self-absorbed. There is some value to the story, and the play has its good moments, but the characters and the action often seem contrived. It was nice to hear some of the Red Sox final game of the World Series in my car on my way home and to see the last inning on my TV after I got home.

Last night was another symphony evening. I decided to escape Hallowe'en trick-or-treaters by having dinner in Boston before the concert. There is a local chain called Petit Robert. They describe themselves as French-style bistros. The menu varies slightly from location to location, but both the ones I've visited offer some things that are commonplace in American restaurants and some things you don't see regularly on this side of the Atlantic. Before "Baritones Unbound" I went to the Petit Robert Central and had oysters and coquilles St. Jacques. The latter is not available everywhere in America, and it was quite enjoyable. The waiter was easy to look at and properly attentive. This week I went to the Petit Robert Columbus Ave. and enjoyed a tasty foie gras appetizer and a very good tripe entree (neither of which was on the PRCentral menu, although Central had a different style of foie gras). I really like being able to get these things that aren't on most American menus, especially the organ meats, and I'm looking forward to going to one or the other before future plays or concerts.

Looking forward, I'll be seeing "Waiting for Godot" for the first time next week, in a performance by an Irish company called the Gare St. Lazare Players. Symphony Thursday and the following two Thursdays. Harvard Musical Association on Friday the 8th. My parish has their Mass of Remembrance, especially for those who have died in the past year, on Saturday at 4:00, followed by Italian Night at 5:00. Then there is an end-of-season Race Committee party at 6:00.

A Visit from Mark

My friend Mark (whom I've also called Zack in some posts — check out both names in the topics list) visited last week. He's decided to be car free as much as possible, so he came by bus, and arrived on Monday afternoon, August 5. He's basically vegan, but was willing to go vegetarian for the visit. So our first business was to go to the grocery store to stock up on items for vegetarian cuisine. We never got to most of them because we got meals elsewhere, as I'll narrate.

Monday evening we went to a game of the North Shore Navigators and had cheese pizza there as our supper. I also had a hot dog.

Tuesday, after I got home from Mass we basically lounged around the house naked. Eventually we headed out to the Peabody Essex Museum but didn't get there until about 10 minutes before closing time. So we strolled around Salem for a while and then went to Boston. Mark wanted to have dinner at my "regular" restaurant, Scollay Square. He enjoyed the mac and cheese with artichoke and spinach, and I the hanger steak special (used to be a regular on the menu, and it's pretty good). It was a beautiful warm evening, and we strolled around Boston Common for a while. Then we went back home and took off our clothes and watched the end of the Red Sox game. I felt a cold coming on, so I went to bed early (for me).

On Wednesday we had to keep our clothes on. There was a funeral of a family friend to be followed by a luncheon, and my big brother was going to attend too and then stay in the area to run boat races in the evening and sleep here overnight. For supper, Mark and I had pizza from a local shop. I wasn't able to finish my half, but Mark handled his. My brother eventually threw out the leftover, which I had thought might be my lunch on Thursday. Well it was no big loss, just a very minor annoyance.

After supper, we watched the Red Sox game. I felt fairly tired, so I went to bed early. The Sox were trailing, and Mark also went to bed before it was over, only to learn in the morning that they had come from behind in the ninth inning and won the game. In the morning, I brought Mark to the subway station so he could get to his noon bus back to upstate New York.

What was good about the visit, beyond just being together, and being able to be naked when we wanted (until my brother showed up), was that we are able to talk freely about our sexuality. There is no thought that we will become sexually active, but just the ability to be open with one another face to face, to have live conversations which we could not have with the other people in our lives, is very satisfying. When I've met other gay bloggers there has been the same sort of comfort in just knowing that I didn't have to be careful in what I said about myself. The shared understanding is comfortable., even when the conversation is on other topics. So for adults, I recommend meeting others you know through blogging and feel you can trust. Of course you still want to be a bit cautious about where and with whom you meet at first. But you can have enjoyable visits, and some can flower into friendships, as has happened with me and Mark.

Astute readers will have noted that we cooked no vegetarian dinners while Mark was here. On Tuesday at lunch we each ate one of the frozen veggie burgers he had bought, and he had a fair amount of soy milk on his cereal. But when it was time for him to leave, the canned lentils, beans, corn etc. which he had bought for a salad were untouched, so he left me the black beans and took the others with him. Also untouched were the last two veggie burgers and a frozen burrito. On Friday, I felt pretty washed out with my cold, and they proved a satisfying lunch/supper.

I'm glad he likes to visit, and I'm glad we've made an introduction to my brother, who was pretty low-key about it.

Japan Diary, Part Three

This post will have lots of pics, mostly from early morning walks I took. I hope they give you some idea of what it's like in a basically residential area of Tokyo. When my grandmother was alive and I'd show her pics from my travels, she'd say, "That's lovely, Joe," at each one. Finally it dawned on me that what she meant was, "This is very boring, don't linger on it." So if you find these "lovely," feel free to skim. If you're not bored, I hope the captions will be adequate. I'll be happy to answer questions (if I know the answer). As always, click to enlarge. (I recommend it.)

May 31 I woke up early again (about 4:00) with the sky beginning to brighten, but I tried to get back to sleep. I got up at about 5:30 and headed out for a walk at about 6:00. There is a street which runs past my brother's side street, goes down a hill, crosses a main street, and then goes uphill to the railroad station. Unusually for Japan, both streets have names. Nodai Dori goes to the station, crossing Shiroyama Dori along the way. In earlier times there was a river running through the low area, but now it has been placed in an underground channel, and there is a pedestrian promenade along its former course

Nodai Dori near my brother's house, looking north. The pedestrians give some idea of the width (i.e., narrowness) of the street.

Notice the absence of front yards. If a building doesn't come up to the street line, there is usually a wall or fence. Possibly with shrubbery.

Hydrangeas just beginning to bloom at an intersection.

Continuing along toward the station, approaching the dip.

The tall building in the distance is next to the station. It houses the Peacock department store, which is one of the places my brother showed me to shop for food. There is a bowling alley on the top floor, and you may be able to see the large bowling pin on the roof. (Actually, I can't see it even when I enlarge the pics, but I know I saw it when I took the pics.)

Side street. Fairly new buildings.

Street level sign board for Gotsui restaurant, where we ate the previous evening. The restaurant is upstairs, and you can see the stairs to the right.

Another sign board for Gotsui. Pictured on it is the section where we ate. They pushed the tables together for us.

At this point I have crossed Shiroyama Dori, the former river area. From here to the station, the street is lined with shops. At times, it is a pedestrian zone.

Streetscape.

English adds a bit of cachet. (There are a number of schools nearby, and many students may be studying English.) During a previous trip I was fascinated by the name and ate there. Food was very good, for a burger joint, and cooked to order.

Coincidentally, the place where my brother took me to lunch later in the day is on the second floor, right over this place.

The station comes into view.

The tracks are elevated at this point, and there is a roof over them.

Station, with plaza.

The sign identifies the train line and the station. From the part of the plaza you see, one goes down three shallow steps to get to the roofed ares, where the doors are to the left. Notice the sculpture to the right.

Beyond the station, to the left, is a several story building housing a number of shops and an Odakyu OX store, which also included a supermarket

This side of the station was something more familiar to Westerners.

A side street not far from the station.

Another shot of Nodai Dori, now heading south, away from the station.

The wall and fence look modern, but the exterior of the building has been made to look traditional, at least at a glance to a Westerner.

After breakfast, I did some laundry, mainly so I'd know how the machine worked if I had to wash something while they were away. I also read some of my book by Voegelin and worked the newspaper puzzles.

For lunch my brother took me to a place called Cozi Cozi. He had the five item special (quiche, pate, meatball, potato, salad  with a roll.) I had the borscht and piroshki. Each cost ¥1,000 (about $10).

In mid-June they had a party there to celebrate my bother's becoming a Japanese citizen.

In the evening, I lent a hand in the kitchen as my sister-in-law prepared a dinner of seafood curry (with mushrooms) and salad.

After dinner, the taxi arrived to take my brother to the airport.

Picture taken without flash. To the left are my s-i-l's brother and mother. My brother and s-i-l to the right.

June 1  On Saturday I headed out even earlier, about 4:30, and walked a bit of the promenade where the river used to be. There were a few other people out walking too, including a young couple (end of night or beginning of day?)

I like the tape to warn walkers of the overhang — instead of cutting the tree down.

I think this is an alley off the promenade. The Japanese like to have trees and shrubs in their yards.

The promenade winds between buildings.

There are small garden and playground areas.

It is suitably marked where it crosses a street.

Flowers are planted in spots along the way.

After another relaxing day of newspapers, TV, book, food shopping  and nap, dinner was a fairly simple affair, ordered in from the sushi place (but not sushi), and then it was my sister-in-law's turn to take a taxi to the airport. 

Now I was alone with the cats.