Oviedo

I'm blaming this latest silence on Leon Botstein. Christopher's first day back in the US, in my second week back here or so, we drove up to Bard College. It's my Dad's alma mater, and he was attending a memorial service, alumni brunch and board of directors meeting. We went to the brunch with him. I've known my Dad's college friends my whole life, and they're fun to talk to and hang out with both for being so convivial and merry, and for all being so smart. I sort of felt like I was at the wedding of one of their kids or something, the mood and food were both so rich and festive- maybe it was just that it was super nice to get to introduce Christopher to them. Anyway, of course, inevitably the speeches started. And Leon, the head of Bard for the last milennium or so, was entertaining and random, seeming to address every issue But whatever had been asked of him. At one point he went off on blogging and e-mail culture, in that curmudgeonly faux-Luddite tone we all love so much in our college presidents. No, of course, everything he said was right on, but of course I couldn't help but take it personally. Tho when you're sitting in a crowded room like that, and the speaker blasts people who write blogs, you can't help but look around and think, how many others? Twelve? Twenty? Who else is spilling their guts in their pajamas? Leon called blogs "the detritus and cuttings from a publishing house floor" because of their lack of editorial oversight. I got a little satisfaction a few weeks later when he showed up on the Colbert Report and seemed nervous. Ha, Mr Big-Shot International Orchestra Conductor, Prison-Education Initiative Defender, Youngest Ever College President! You got served by a fake conservative on a fake news show!
I have to add to this, on the subject of politically progressive orchestra leaders, big snaps go to Leonard Bernstein. The other night I heard my Dad sing Chichester Psalms with a big group of Jewish choruses. That piece is incredible. I can't believe I never heard it before! In the car on the way home, Mozart's Prague Symphony was on the radio, which meant that I couldn't hold the slightest shred of conversation since I had to sing along with it from beginning to end. I realized the reason there are so many important pieces I have no familiarity with is that I spent all my time listening to the same few pieces over and over. I was the coolest kid in fourth grade.
One story I've been meaning to share: bringing Spinoza to the US. With the officials on either side, remarkably, unbelievably easy. I filled in the circle on my entry form that I was bringing in an animal- which is the same circle that says you're bringing in food. Leaving the last gate of customs in JFK, the guy noticed it was filled in (the first checkpoint noone had noticed!) and asked what food I was bringing. I said, well, I have a cat in here, and some kitty treats for him. The guy glanced at Spin, then asked to look at the package of Friskies treats. The two of us spent a few minutes discussing the ingredients, both of us finding it interesting that while the flavor was "Whitefish-Tuna" the main ingredients were chicken and corn, before I noticed it said "Made in USA," and he passed me off to someone else to look at Spinoza. I showed this guy the paperwork, he took a look inside Spinny's box, saw how cute he looked all knocked out and drugged up, and said, Ok, go ahead. That was it. No physical, he didn't even pick him up.
On the flight, I was given a middle seat, even though I'd asked for an aisle. I was flustered and grumpy about this, and asked the lady to my right if she would switch with me. She didn't understand me and said something about sleeping, and we had a very odd little back-and-forth. I thought she was saying to me she was going to be sleeping very well, and I said, obnoxiously (I'm ashamed of what a brat I was) "Yeah, it's comfortable to be on the end!" Luckily, she realy didn't seem to understand me at all, and after a moment of silence, she asked, "Would you like to switch? You have a cat!" I thanked her profusely and resolved to make up my obnoxiousness somehow in the course of the flight. She was the sweetest, sweetest lady. I could tell she was Asian by her accent, but her face was so wrinkled, it was like the generic mask of a sweet old grandmother. I asked her where she was from after we'd made some more small talk, and she said Florida. Later on, out of the blue, she started telling me about her childhood during World War 2. We had no electricity, no fire, she said. Some soldier would come from the base with a cigarette, and turn his hat (she meant helmet) upside down and we would cook our food in it. I realized she must have been Japanese. I told her how my Mom grew up hearing sirens, which she didn't remember until 9-11 happened. This lady said, "We didn't hate you. All the people, they are the same. War is made by a few people, but the rest, they don't hate each other." She seemed to be worried that somehow I would have some anti-Japanese feeling because of World War 2!! I didn't go into my almost ridiculous love of all things Japanese, from sushi to origami to gardens, but I did tell her how my friend Mayuko had given me a few lessons on the Koto and how much I loved it. Turns out she also plays Koto! And her friend stole her Koto! It got her a little worked up to tell me about it. In case you don't know, a Koto is about 5- 9 feet long. For someone to steal it, especially another little old lady, is incredibly funny.
I'm embarrassed I can't remember her name. I think it was Ayako.
She was so wonderful to Spinoza, and went on about how smart cats are. "If you love them, they love you- and they protect you!" We talked about how much we both love shows on Animal Planet and Discovery Channel (really, that's what TV was made for- pet blooper shows.) She told me she had also flown with her pet, a dachshund, from Japan to the Philippines, to the US. That seemed to put the drama of Spin's and my trip into perspective.
Anyway, when we got near JFK, I helped her fill in the entry form, so I felt at least a little better for my earlier rudeness. The town she was from in Florida was Oviedo, which I'd never heard of before. We landed early in the morning, and she joined up with the rest of her church group with whom she had traveled to Israel. I didn't get to properly say good-by or thank her. But later that day I was walking through Jersey City, and I saw a bronze model of a church in front of City Hall. I looked closer to check it out, and it was from JC's new partner city: Oviedo, Spain.