Alice’s Restaurant At Carnegie

Last night Arlo Guthrie outdid himself in Carnegie Hall 40th anniversary of his song “Alice’s Restaurant.” Updated a little of course! What 50’s and 60’s folkie nostalgia with Pete Seeger (maybe in spirit) in the audience!

Arlo was preceeded onstage by the “Mammals,” a bluegrass band that included his musician son and daughter, who gave us a hilarious refrain about the “Bush Boys” in the long tradition of political folk-singing!

Arlo’s humorous home-spun wisdom and outstanding musicality was worth every penny and a trip into the city!

Deep Into Mao & China

It’s cold and snowy outside and right now I am deep into the recently published biography of Mao Tse Tung by Jung Chang who also some years ago wrote the respected three-generation epic “Wild Swans.” Jung, born in China, was a Red Guard for a time during the Cultural Revolution and witnessed first-hand the devastation wrought by Mao. She soon after fled to Britain where she was educated. She and her British husband spent 12 years researching the Russian archives and interviewing many of the principal actors of the Cultural Revolution who are still alive.

The book answers my question about why most mainland Chinese still revere Mao after all the devastation he wrought. Apparently, it is because in the absence of a free press he manufactured his persona and made up the whole myth about the Long March (which he fed to the American journalist Edgar Snow who disseminated Mao’s lies in his book “Red Star Over China”) that most people in China still believe in today!

Mao began with no official party status and conscripted local “bandits” that he called an “army.” Then he basically stole a small army from a military commander through blackmail, manipulation and by taking advantage of a technologically ineffective communication system between Shanghai and the rest of China and Moscow where Stalin was pulling the strings. It was by creating an army and by that he was then able to gain credibility and ascend to party leadership. All the while he was carried over snow-covered mountains on a litter by mostly barefoot carriers so he could comfortably read his books.

Meanwhile, Stalin’s top agenda was China’s defeat of the Japanese. Mao’s modus operandi was to lead Stalin into thinking he was following the Soviet line but all the while outmaneuvering Chiang Kai Khek and the Nationalist Army and all other Red factions who were competing for power…no small feat! Moscow bought into Mao’s deception and protected Mao.

Chiang Kai Khek’s nationalist forces had been “chasing” Mao from the south (his wife raised millions of dollars in the U.S. for this war) but let Mao and his “army” go because Stalin was holding Chiang’s son hostage in Moscow. Ironically, for Chiang, the Reds took over China and it took Chiang 11 years to get his son back. As we know, Chiang eventually fled to Taiwan.

Another eye-opening book is the biography of Mao written by his personal physician of 25 years. After Mao died, his physician moved to Chicago near his two sons who had been university educated there. The biography was published just before his death around 1995.

When I was in Bangkok this summer, I gave the biography to a young Chinese woman in her early 20’s who was “visiting her boyfriend.” “He is very fat,” she said laughing, “but he is a very rich Texan!” She was by herself sitting next to me at a sushi bar. Her English was perfect and she was reading a Bangkok travel book in English! Since it is very unusual for mainland Chinese to get out of China alone, I suspect she was there to observe and report back. “Is it true, she asked, “that blacks have group sex?” Astounded, I answered that some may, but people are individuals and you can never say “all” people of an ethnic or racial group do anything! She looked puzzled. We talked for several hours the next morning in a busy coffee shop. I told her I thought Mao was worse than Hitler and she flew off the handle. “My mother (who is a university professor) loves Mao,” she yelled. She also embarrassed me to death in front of the Thais that were present: “I hate Buddah!” she yelled when I asked about Buddhism in China.

Meeting her reminded me of a young mainland Chinese “spy” in Australia who went public about a mainland Chinese spy network that apparently reports on overseas Chinese and asked for asylum when he realized that he had been duped by the Party leadership. Australia, trying to get along with China hesitated but finally gave him temporary asylum (the US refused). He said that if he returned to China he would probably be killed or at least jailed and tortured, a claim that China refuted.

It would have a profound consequence if these books became available to the mainland Chinese. Even better, the Chang book would make an incredible epic movie…and with all the pirated movies in China…it would spread like wildfire among the youth.

How To Impress The Inlaws

Thanksgiving morning Bob took off for the New York Athletic Club and his ritual Starbucks ice-coffee thinking we would have plenty of time to do the turkey before Amy arrived with her mother who was flying in from Denver at 5pm. Josh had to do turkey at the Tocqueville-his restaurant-of course.

Earlier that day I had watched Oprah make her favorite pomegranate martini so not wanting to miss something good-we indulged. But then Amy brought a bottle of my favorite whiskey-Makers Mark-and of course I had to have a glass or two. This is my excuse for a poor dried-out TG turkey!

Fearing the turkey wouldn’t get done in time I turned up the gas oven which resulted in every ounce of moisture being wrung out of the bird…leaving about three inches of grease and broth in the bottom of the cheezy aluminum pan. When I finally got my wits about me at about 8:30 and decided it was time to get the turkey out, Bob almost set himself on fire when spilled-over grease hit the bottom of the oven.

Thank goodness for Amy’s green-bean dish, her great grandmother’s corn-bread stuffing and her wonderful refrigerated pumpkin roll.

Thirty-Something Night

Our son, Greg, flew in from Las Vegas for a long weekend last weekend. It is the first time we have been with more than one of the progeny since I can remember…and was great fun…out to dinner at the Pearl Oyster in the West Village after a Staten Island Ferry trip…then a quintessential Manhattan cocktail bar that specializes in Russian vodkas.

Greg met some friends at a velvet rope club (meaning there is a dress code and you have to be accepted in). Amy and Josh, saying it wasn’t their thing, took off to meet some of their friends in a cubby-hole bar for cheap beer and wandered back to the apartment at 5am only to find Greg already asleep. There wasn’t enough room for all of Greg’s party so they split up…not knowing where they were going next. Greg, thinking this was too much work at the ripe old age of 38 had jumped in his own cab and took off for home.

Walking Cobble Hill in Brooklyn we found a “Neighborhoodie” store that sells t-shirts and sweatshirts with custom lettering. Greg had two made…a brown shirt with “Brooklyn Is Better” in baby blue lettering for Amy and a black shirt with “Innocent Bystander” in white. “Oh, but you have to put this under it,” said the young hip female clerk as she showed him a picture of a menacing black Uzi rifle! Which he did.

Another Country

I knew we were living in a country other than the U. S. A when I dropped into a Dunkin Donut shop (hey it’s been three years!) for a couple sugared donuts. “I’ll have two sugared donuts,” I said to the shop girl. “What?” she asked. “Two sugared donuts,” I repeated. Then again…rather impatiently…”what kind do you want?” Two sugared!” I said again, this time my voice in a slightly higher register. “Oh, shewwwgered!” she said. Usually this only happens in a city where English isn’t the first language…like Bangkok or Bombay…or Rome! But then there is also London…

New York City Marathon

It’s good to be back “home” in our apartment in Brooklyn from our trip to Washington. Early this morning we walked down a couple blocks to 4th Avenue to watch the NYC marathon runners….after we watched the winners finish on TV…a heart breaker. Fourth avenue seems strange now…empty of runners…full of smashed green paper cups and cop cars.

“Taxation Without Representation”

Taking a fast sleek train, we are visiting our country’s capitol city for a few days. “Taxation Without Representation” is written at the bottom of D.C. license plates here in the District of Columbia. Don’t know why DC’s fair citizens don’t have any representation in Congress, but we nevertheless enjoy their city.

The weather has been fantastic…sunny, clear and brisk. The trees have become a palette of fall colors. We are staying in a cute little Victorian bed and breakfast called Kalorama Guest House on Mintwood Place NW, (it’s on the web) around the corner from a slew of coffee shops (free internet at Tryst during the week) and ethnic restaurants full of thirty-somethings carrying computer bags and wearing official appearing ID tags. One overheard conversation: “…the working title of my book is The China Wars of 1871…” We think there are a lot of very highly educated people in this city but aren’t sure this is a good thing considering some of the policies coming out of this place.

But alas, our visit will be short. Tomorrow the Red Line of the clean plush subway train will take us from our neighborhood directly to Union Train Station…the most elegant we have seen anywhere in the world except maybe Victoria Station in Bombay..where we will catch our train back to Penn Station in Manhattan.

The gigantic government office buildings remind Bob and I of the utilitarian Nazi-built grey concrete buildings in the eastern sector of Berlin-what used to be East Germany. It occurs to me that at least our tax money hasn’t been spent on hegemonic architecture. But at least a few or more thousand people have jobs in this gigantic bureaucracy.

I spent two days at the National Archives digging up info on my great grandfather who spent 14 months in Confederate prisons, including Andersonville, while Bob roamed the city. We make fun of all the others walking around with cell phones glued to their ears but it’s a darn good thing we have them (cell phones and ears) or we’d still be looking for each other.

Revisionist history: Eisenhower was the first president to send “armed advisors” to Viet Nam. The last time I was in Washington I didn’t notice that the date engraved on the wall of the Vietnam War Memorial…1955… was the date indicating the first death. But the pentagon has revised this date twice in the eighties, explained the park service guide…upping it to sometime in the 60’s. But once a date is engraved you just can’t mark it out with a black marker, the guide wryly remarked…

The city, full of irony, was laid out by, of all people, the same Frenchman who designed modern Paris. The J. Edgar Hoover building is exactly across the street from the Robert F. Kennedy Justice Building-the two men, of course, hating each other during their tenures. Washington was in the south at the time of the civil war and a bridge crosses the Potomac River, at the foot of the Lincoln Memorial, to connect the District of Columbia with Arlington Cemetery on land that was given the city by Robert E. Lee.

The Smithsonian Museums, set up by a foreign benefactor, are free and not to be missed. And the residence of the Vice-President was set up on U.S. Naval grounds in order to save taxpayer money by not having to build another palatial home.

But Bob and I looked at each other with not a little bewilderment when the hop-on- hop-off bus driver/tour guide told us that Washington D.C. had more species of trees than any other city in the world. We wondered how they figured this out.

Odetta

We had been years since we saw Odetta so when Bob read that she would be performing in a Village club we jumped at the chance to get tickets. She walked in dressed in a dramatic multi-colored red and purple silk and velvet gown and head dress…walked in very slowly and with help. She is still her inimitable self…but her weight is down to almost nothing and her songs were confined to softly sung spirituals. She is in her late 70’s and we worried about her health. The middle to late-aged folk-singing crowd laughed though when she cautioned everyone that in this day and age we should all be careful to use condoms!

Yonah Schimmel’s Knishs

Looking for a restaurant one afternoon on the Lower East Side, we happened by a tiny bakery with huge savory knishes displayed in the window…potato, kasha, spinach, broccoli, cabbage, mixed vegetable, sweet potato, mushroom…and sweet ones too. The glass window was plastered with reviews (apparently this place is famous in New York,) and as I was in the shop making my choices with difficulty, Bob was outside reading one of the reviews which happened to be written in the 60’s!

They ship overnight anywhere in the USA: http://www.yonahschimmel.com

“An Uncommon Friendship”

After getting through Phil & Adri’s New York Times and Wall Street Journal that arrive on our stoop every day it is difficult to find time for other reading.

However, Amy’s mom gave me a book I couldn’t refuse. It is a double memoir of the retired general counsel of the Safeway Corporation, Bernat Rosner, whom Debbie worked with before his retirement in 1993, and his friend, Frederic Tubach who is Professor Emeritus of German at the University of California, Berkeley. Bernat Rosner, an Hungarian Jew, and his German friend, discovered after 10 years of friendship that the former was an Auschwitz survivor and the other was the son of a Nazi German Army officer. The memoir is told in his friend’s voice at Mr Rosner’s request.

How to bridge the gulf and remove the power of the past to separate them becomes the focus of their friendship and together they begin the project of remembering. The stories begin with their similar village childhoods before the holocaust and their very different paths to America where they become men with the freedom to construct their own futures.

Poignant, honest, sincere…and proof of what good will can accomplish in the cause of reconciliation.

“An Uncommon Friendship”
Bernat Rosner & Frederic C. Tubach
with Sally Patterson Tubach
University of California Press