The Life Saving Jig-Saw Puzzle

Adele is a bit of a jig-saw puzzle fanatic. So are her friends. So is much of the country. You cannot find a jig-saw puzzle in Michael’s or Walmart or any of the art and hobby stores. They are all sold out. You can find jig-saw puzzles online, but you will have to wait an average of three months or more for delivery. What is it about jig-saw puzzles that draws people to the test during this duration of epidemic?

Adele’s latest 1,500 piece puzzle

Remember as kids, how we used to put together those large form 8-piece puzzles. We had such a feeling of accomplishment when they all came together. And, we had found pleasure in turning the puzzle upside down and watching as all the pieces tumbled into disarray. Then, we had the opportunity to repeat, be awed, and think we are wonderful all over again. I think the first reason we love jig-saw puzzles is that sense of completion. They have a beginning and an end.

The second reason I think jig-saw puzzles are in such high demand is that they demand order in your approach to them. First finding the border pieces, separating by color or other distinctive markings that place pieces in a section of the puzzle, and finally, beginning to put together the puzzle pieces.
This is a rather complex process which brings us to the third quality of jigsaw puzzles. They demand attention. They take us away from the heightened emotional and psychological states so distracting and disturbing and deliver us to a place of calm and relative peace. These latter qualities of inner calm and peace, I would contend represent the fourth gift provided by jig-saw puzzles.

A 1,000 piece puzzle

COMPLETION
ORDER
ATTENTION
PEACE

This is not to suggest that meditation, piano playing, a coloring book, or a Mozart concerto cannot offer the same relief and benefit. But, those activities present little surprise to us. Its the fact that friends and family are trading jig-saw puzzles, reserving them to ensure they are on the list of traders, that fascinated me.

In other words, its service is to provide the diametrical opposite state of being in our current reality. Since “Orange-pusses” election, there has been an interminable desire to terminate this mayhem - to put an end to the corruption, lies, deception and abuse of power. It seems that our democracy is frayed and unraveling and we are losing all sense of order. These ‘tricksters’ have utilized ‘sleights of hand’ to distract and obfuscate what is important only to benefit themselves. Worse, unlike Mister “I can’t find the way to my mouth”, there are many in the administration who are ‘true believers’ and want to convert this union of ‘united’ states to a religious state where love is expressed as ‘anti-abortion’ and ‘law and order’. All this chaos and threat demands distraction from the care we wish to give to our everyday lives. And finally, jig-saw puzzles are an antidote to the constant upheaval of the moment. That is the job of a fascist. To create societal unrest, to provide easy solutions even at the expense of your neighbor, to enforce limitations to protests and gatherings, to malign the media and the very federal laws and institutions that gave people the rights to be crazy and out of control, and to identify the reasonable and rational, the concerned and caring, the frail and weak, the minorities and immigrants as a threat to freedom. They, in effect, turn this complex puzzle upside down and lay claim as the only ones to set it right.

I may be reading too much into a jig-saw puzzle, but if we don’t find the means to rid ourselves of these very evil-doers and defeat them totally and utterly in November, we may have to line up way earlier and wait significantly longer to get our hands on a jig-saw puzzle while living in one.

VOTE!

PANDEMIC DIARY

My First Cup

July 14, 2020

My first cup of coffee is no longer rushed or harried. I don’t gulp while dressing for work. I don’t stand and devour the last drop as I am heading for the door. No longer do I ‘drive-in’ then navigate a steaming paper cup of coffee while accelerating. I do not hold an attache case in one hand with a folder under the other arm carrying a morning brew attempting to open the door to my office. And, I have not ordered a coffee and bagel from a coffee cart in decades.

Coffee was made at 6:30 this morning.
It is now 8:30. Coffee gone. The day starts.

The regimen of the retired.

Yet, this is the only part of the day that has been and remains a constant. In this new world, I am totally responsible for filling my day…”fulfilling my day”. There is no company, no boss, no directive from anyone. I am not part of a project, plan, system or strategy that relies on me - depends on production of materials, demands a deadline for completion or the generation of a critical report. I am Chairman of the Board, CEO and President of my days. But, wait, wasn’t that always true? Did that fact get lost during all those years?

I am thinking about the personal sacrifices I made, we all make, in compliance with life’s ‘necessities’, demands and obligations?

And, what of ourselves may have been sacrificed?

PANDEMIC DIARY

July 13, 2020

Why am I writing an online diary during this Covid-19 pandemic? I am alone. I feel alone. Why do I feel alone? The word ‘isolated’ comes to mind. I am physically isolated. Ahh, maybe its not the isolation. Might the better word be ‘restricted’. We are not isolated in the strictest sense, and certainly not according to penal code, surrounded by four concrete walls with only the slightest sliver of light streaking briefly across a cell. Yet, at times, the restrictions make it seem as if our walls are contracting and closing in.

I have noticed that the ‘outside’ is now truly outside. No longer is the outside on the other side of your front door. Now, the outside is on the other side of a considered determination and critical decision. Outside lurk aerosols, droplets, transmission, and Covid, floating on each breath, each exhalation. Living is a possible contaminant. You can be an asymptomatic spreader. You wear a mask and you are a wuss, a pansy, a pushover. You don’t wear a mask and you are dumb, gullible, and contemptuous of experts. As never before, the outside, once the refuge from confinement, is filled with negative potentiality such that we choose to stay home. Who wants to catch what’s out there? We used to rush to be outside; now we rush to get home. We used to yearn to go; now we anticipate our safe return.

Nothing spurs greater self-reflection than solitude. I am more contemplative and gravely pensive in light of current events. I have been asking questions of myself and absorbed with musings wistful, dreamy, sober and serious. Each day, in a sentence or two…OK, maybe three or four. I would like to share these with you and ask you to share what you are thinking about.

Again, I welcome you to the Pandemic Diary.

Scenes 3 - “Life As A Carousel”

“What goes around, comes around”.
”As you sow, so shall you reap”.
These somewhat hackneyed adages infer basic tenets for our understanding of ‘karma” - the idea that how one acts towards and treats others will come back to you in the same way. That is to say, if you do bad, bad things will happen to you. But, in reality, we know that is not necessarily true. Repercussions do not always happen to people who act ‘badly’, harmfully, or against the interests of others. Ironically, the converse is often true, as described in the title of Harold Kushner’s book, “Why Bad Things Happen To Good People”. So, it appears, in so far as individual behavior is concerned, that ‘what goes around’, does not inexorably come back to haunt you.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=GC-rAgnBanI

I refer to ‘individual behavior’ because on a grander, more universal scale it appears that no matter our morals or intentions, our religion or ethical underpinnings, as a “collective”, history affirms that our specie is bound to bare witness to the repetition and replay of our failures, foibles and follies for all of time. Humans seem to possess a “forgetter” that precludes the acceptance of history as teacher, informer, advisor or source of wisdom. George Santayana had it correct: “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it”. Except “those” refers, as likely, not to particular individuals, rather to a class of beings called “Humans”. Indeed, it appears that we are condemned to repeat the worst of our attributes and inclinations in a divinely self-mutilating and destructive manner.

Now many may assert that history does not repeat itself, as it would then be predictable. But, that misses the point. A quote attributed to Mark Twain, correctly or otherwise, is most relevant, “History doesn’t repeat itself…but it often rhymes”. History is more like an “echo” than a digital recording. It is not exactly the same, necessarily, in amplitude or affect. Rather, it is a reiteration distinct from the original in kind, but NOT ESSENCE. Mount “Vesuvius has erupted about three dozen times since 79 A.D., most recently from 1913-1944. The 1913-1944 eruption is thought to be the end of an eruptive cycle that began in 1631. It has not erupted since then, but Vesuvius is an active volcano , it will erupt again”. And, in being ‘active’ it is, in effect, erupting even in its dormant phases. Doesn’t it feel just that way now?

Marcus Aurelius seems to understand, "Whatever happens has always happened, and always will, and is happening at this very moment, everywhere. Just like this." Even Ecclisastes refers to this tendency, “The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be; and that which is done is that which shall be done: and there is no new thing under the sun.”; and, “That which hath been is now; and that which is to be hath already been; and God requireth that which is past.” “The wind goeth toward the south, and turneth about unto the north; it whirleth about continually, and the wind returneth again according to his circuits.” Even I got into the game at the age of 17 with this poem,
“See how quickly midnight yields to noon,
noon midnight
How swift the undertow sucks a void
for the following wave
to flow.

And so have my dreams
Come and gone
each denying the feeling
and in doing so
denying there ever having existed
only to exist once more
in a non-existent recognition.

And so have my days
given way to days
of rising suns
of setting suns
of moonlight beams
brightless by dawn
Each, at times, shining simultaneously,
Each, at times, silent beyond sight.

And so have the years
given way to years
seas rise
shores recede
worlds revolve
The same but different
different with no change
changing to the sameness
that was…

As the wave sucks a void
for the following wave
to flow,
to flow…

Certainly the work of a late teen, but the musings are timeless. Yes?

I wasn’t in bad company as it is Nietzsche who suggested the theory of “eternal recurrence” - that the universe and all existence and energy has been recurring, and will continue to recur, in a self-similar form an infinite number of times across infinite time or space. “Everything we have done or will do we will do over and over and over again forever."

Reassuring?
But that’s life.

Or is it?

The World Beyond The Mist

With deepest regards [and apologies] to Claude Monet, I offer in recognition of his most perfect analysis of light and the impressionist aesthetic as displayed in his inimitable study of Water Lillies, my photographic version which I am calling: “Morning’s Misty Mountains” [or “Misty Mountain Mornings” or Mountain’s Misty Mornings” or “Mountain’s Morning Mist”] - It is not easy being a literary esthete {lol}

It is September already and Adele and I have been home for over two week. I will not bore you with the perfunctory tasks necessary to ‘land’ and make one’s home fit again for habitation. What I do wish to convey is that this blog has taken since the above post date for me coalesce my thoughts into a coherent expression and elucidation to make sense of the whirlwind of grey cells in my head.

An idea came to me while reading a science-fiction novel entitled, ‘Station Eleven’. A futuristic, post-apocalyptic tale as told through the eyes of “Traveling Symphony”, a band of actors and musicians performing in old Walmart parking lots and sleeping in abandoned warehouses, gas stations and stores. They drive from town to town in three trucks with their name brightly printed on the sides. But, the truck driven by the leader of the troupes’ has these additional words below, “BECAUSE SURVIVAL IS INSUFFICIENT’. When I read these words, all that I had written before had new meaning - a ‘coda’ to my musings.

It’s August 11: I don’t know if this morning I am overly internal, conceptually transforming my ‘view into viewpoints’ or if the world manifested a philosophically unavoidable ‘mis en scene’ provoking my personal projection. Either way, from the balcony of our apartment my mind is time-lapsing along with the slow, transfiguring shift of perspective.

Taken at 7:04 AM

The original, arresting scene drew me outside for its subtle beauty. Yet, while standing and staring, I realized what initiated me to seek this scene was the mystery that dwells in the veil of mist. Yes, the awe at nature’s persistent perfection; and, the peace of harmony and balance. Yet, there was another element that compelled and bound me. The insinuation of what may lay beyond the mist. Moment to moment the view, although continually captivating and consuming, began to disclose aspects of what lay ‘on the other side’.
The possibility of revelation? Thus, the fascination shifted from what is present to what might be anticipated (hoped for?) This deflection altered my emotions. My attention was now minimally split, if not alltogether amended, giving greater consideration to what is yet to be uncovered than what is present. Such is the attraction, lure and perversion of the unknown.

Taken at 7:06 AM

A Buddhist psychologist once said, “You can look at the past…but don’t relive it; you can plan for the future…but don’t pre-live it.” Great advice. What is that combination? How and when do we get ‘trapped’ in the past instead of utilizing its lessons to build upon? How and when do we wish or opine for a future and fail to build it? Psychologists today, manifesting statistically greater outcomes, are moving far from Freudian analytical therapies to cognitive, functional technologies that empower action over insight. Choice, action, and outcomes seem to create, not ironically, deeper insight along with profound change. Creating evidence that one can live a productive and gratifying life in the absence of fully understanding the why’s and wherefore’s of every precipitating event in one’s past, produces relatively immediate results that might be anticipated to occur only after years of psychotherapy.

Taken at 7:25 AM

But, I digress. My sense is that religion is based upon the fear and insecurity of the unknown. Religion fails to recognize the rightful place and spiritual ascendency that comes from what is ‘not’ known…absent the need for ‘faith’. But, the politics of religion and its institutions, requires dependency and reliance on ‘safe-makers’ and ‘popes of predictability’. I have referred to Alan Watts, I believe, in these pages before who, in his landmark book “The Wisdom of Insecurity” speaks directly to this, “If, then, my awareness of the past and future makes me less aware of the present, I must begin to wonder whether I am actually living in the real world.” The desire and search for security and/or safety is an opioid, “…the desire for security and the feeling of insecurity are the same thing. To hold you breath is to lose your breath. A society based on the quest for security is nothing but a breath-retention contest in which everyone is as taut as a drum and as purple as a beet. If we cling to belief in God, we cannot likewise have faith, since faith is not clinging but letting go.” 

There I am at 7:04 in the morning drawn to our balcony, struck by this talc-like puffy suspension, an enigmatic cloud of mist dusting the valley and insinuating what may lay beyond. I was mesmerized by this gritty teaser, this opaquely transparent moist tarp of persistent questions. I felt provoked and irked by the gnawing need to know what may lay beyond. Staring but not seeing, I waited for what was not seen, whereupon the scene changed. And, so it was ay 7:06…and 7:25…and 8:32…and 10:25.

Taken at 8:32 AM

Miracles are performed every day, in the moment, performed by each and everyone one of us. We don’t need to die to be bestowed into ‘sainthood’. We are canonized every second we pay attention. Humankind appears to not be able to live without myth, “without the belief that the routine and drudgery, the pain and fear of this life have some meaning and goal in the future. At once, new myths come into being – political and economic myths with extravagant promises of the best of futures in the present world. These myths give the individual a certain sense of meaning by making him (her) part of a vast social effort, in which he/she loses something of his own emptiness and loneliness. Yet the very violence of these political religions betrays the anxiety beneath them – for they are but men huddling together and shouting to give themselves courage in the dark.”

Taken at 10:25 AM

Yet, it is hard to not be disturbed and distressed by the heartbreak of our current social and political reality. How I am trying to deal with it is to distinguish between what I am able to change and what I am not. It is only when I grieve over what is outside my control that I tumble into survival mode. And, I am not here just to survive. I can do what I can. That is all. I will not be drawn into ‘story lines’ or others mythologies about dire world prognostications. I wish to exist with what is in front of me. “But you cannot understand life and its mysteries as long as you try to grasp it. Indeed, you cannot grasp it, just as you cannot walk off with a river in a bucket.“

Years ago I wrote a phrase that still appears to me true, “How can the inevitable be anything less than Perfect”? This reminds me of a passage in a Michael Connelly novel in which his detective, Harry Bosch, is describing a Los Angeles sunset that “burned the sky pink and orange in the same bright hues as surfers’ bathing suits, It was a beautiful deception,…Sunsets did that here. Made you forget it was the smog that made their colors so brilliant, that behind every pretty picture there could be an ugly story”. Life and death is like that if you hold the process in judgement. If death is part of life, what is there to resist. Or, put more accurately, the comparison is not between Life and Death - they are not opposites. Birth and Death are opposites. Life continues. In what form; for how long; as ourselves; as souls? Who knows? What I do know is that we are all a part of a closed, multi-dimensional energetic system that will likely survive for millions of years. And, that is enough survival for me that I don’t want to think anymore about survival.

BECAUSE SURVIVAL IS INSUFFICIENT

FAMILIARLY UNFAMILIAR

I know these streets.

For the nearly four weeks I am here this summer, I will have walked the streets of Oberstdorf more frequently than I stroll down Franklin Street in Chapel Hill the whole rest of the year.

I know where the Kurpark Cafe resides, just off the square opposite Oberstdorfhaus. Adele will order IceKaffe and I a ‘doppio’ espresso with ‘kuchen’. They bake a killer Hazelnut Cake with Fresh Plum Topping that is hard to resist, especially with a dollop of “sahne”. We both can chill after a long hike or while away our time reading under the protective awning on inclement days. There is never a time limit on pleasure here.

I can certainly find my way to Rewe, [pronounced “Rev’ - a” with a long ‘a’ sound], the supermarket with a decent deli section for meats, poultry and cold cuts plus commercial salads that are a significant improvement over Harris Teeter. And, given that we don’t ‘cook’ (fresh green salads are about the extent of it, otherwise we eat out), quality prepared foods are important to our survival. Of course, we shop there for the usual pantry and household supplies from tuna to toilet paper.

The church bells ring several times a day. St. Johannes’ spire is the highest structure in the village and can be seen from nearly all four corners of town. Nebelhorn Station is easy to find since it is located on a perimeter road and its lifts and ski jumps can be easily spotted. Many tournaments take place here from the 75 and 90 meter jumps and in 2021, Oberstdorf will host the World Nordic Ski Cup for which they are constructing stainless stands and dormitories and other facilities to accommodate the anticipated crowds for the events.

Our ‘Ferienwohnungen’

Yet, I still need a moments pause to determine if I turn right or left at the corner of Fellhornstrasse and Reithallenweg on my way to my ‘Ferienwohnungen’ on Schlappoldweg. [You can imagine how Adele’s dyslexia really kicks in in Germany] A ‘ferienwohnungen’ in Germany is an apartment rental. The owners of the buildings most typically live in the house. Vacationers are renting whole apartments with living area, bedroom/s, kitchen, dining area and bathrooms.

A ‘Gasthaus’ (sometimes called ‘Gasthof’) or ‘Landhaus’ is a German-style inn usually with a tavern or bar. In this case, the visitor is renting a room. Likewise, a hotel rents rooms but offers a greater array of services, including breakfast and the presence of a restaurant and spa.

It is hard to get lost in Oberstdorf. One has to be “two sheets to the wind” to lose general orientation. On the other hand, German towns were never designed as grids, or crossing vertical and horizontal lanes. Finding your home from the town center is more like the old “maze” game, where you put your pen at the center and attempt to leave the circle without lifting the pen or getting stuck at a dead end. I have been known to end up like B.F.Skinner’s experimental mice, at a place where I know I’ve been but with no earthly idea how to proceed. So, I double back, rebound, and repeat until the path is cleared for me to get home. FAMILIARLY UNFAMILIAR. The only alternative is to leave pieces of smelly cheese along the path to our apartment.

Speaking of cheese, [a foul transition?] cheese stores abound in Oberstdorf and all the local villages.

Kase is ‘cheese’ in German. This is a cheese store…on of many. There are also Kase-Automats:vending machines with fresh local cheeses in small vacuum sealed packages.

The abundance of all sorts and styles of cheeses is easily appreciated as each climb up a mountainside presents the inevitable and irresistible valley or plateau of endlessly rolling green pastures, perfect for grazing…

and flowing water that is so pure its shimmering sparkles silvery stars in sunlight…

And, there as you turn, squeezing through the turnstile, you hear the distant clanking bells and in anticipation…

you enter the ‘bovine belt’…Massive specimens lazing, chewing the grasses or standing in the shade disdaining the flies that are feeding off their hides in symbiotic symphony.

Life can be familiar, but remain familiarly unfamiliar, particularly when it comes to cultural differences. I know German etiquette and can order coffee and cake well enough in my narrowly rehearsed German. Well enough to receive the accolades of a native at the next table for whom my effort at broken German garnered recognition. And, further evidenced by our being served exactly what I ordered? But, now that we’ve decided to return every year (and have already made our reservations for next year), I wish to earn my way to cultural anonymity by learning German sufficiently for simple everyday exchanges. I believe then I will be more familiarly familiar.

On Walstrasse there is a family from, I believe, Turkey, that owns the best fruits and vegetables store in town. The cucumbers are firm and brightly green, the peppers smooth and unwrinkled, the lettuce tightly composed, the tomatoes squirtingly fresh and along with the fresh salads they prepare there is always something to throw together for dinner. Each year I have enamored myself to the owner, Omer. The first time I met him we chatted and I patted him on the back in friendship. After I completed my purchase, Omer came around the counter, and with a laugh and a smirk of dubious familiarity, gave me a ‘zetz’ on my back. “Zetz’ is a ‘yiddish’ word meaning a strike or hit. A zetz. I don’t think he mistook my affable gesture, I simply think he was mimicking (or mocking) me with a somewhat chaffing, comedical comeraderie.

At the end of our stay, I reliably say goodbye to Omer as a sign of respect and because I really like him. And, each year upon my return, he fails to recognize me. Admittedly, I am an annual resident for one month every year, but like my misguided returns home, Omer cannot seem to escape the circle without a stop, rebound and repeat. He now knows me after two weeks. I am familiar. He laughs in greeting. However, I likely will be familiarly unfamiliar next year.

I HOPE ALL OF YOU ARE WELL AND ENJOYING YOUR SUMMERS. MUCH LOVE FROM ADELE AND ME.

THREE TIMES THE CHARM

Imagine creating your own fairy tale village, and living its perfect existence each and every day. This fairy tale locale would include magical mountains, mystical manor houses, sinewy streets, snow capping high peaks, while wafting aromas of freshly baked bread pursue your path on cobble-stoned streets, where the food is hearty and a good brew is always at hand, as men laze in Lederhosen and women dance in dirndl dresses.

Now, imagine that you are not imagining at all.

That this fable is no fantasy.

That what you are envisioning is not a mythical place; you are not ambling through your mind; you will not suddenly awaken from a foggy dream, befuddled; or need to recapture or reconstruct parts forgotten and lost in that fuzzy, misty haze.

It’s all here, in front of you - flower boxes dripping color; the decoratively carved fencing; window shutters with wrought iron handles; wood piles in preparation for winter…

An historic house.

The place is called Oberstdorf.

The paths we climb

Surrounded by the Bavarian Alps, Oberstdorf is a ‘town’ sitting ‘fishbowl’-like within a mountain chain of peaks and ridges ranging from 4,500 - 8,000 feet. The feeling one gets, without sounding obvious, is “uplifting”. I don’t necessarily mean that “feel good”, temporary sugar rush, or the ‘high’ one gets from a hefty toke of marijuana, although those bolts are readily available at 3,000 meters. What I am referring to is the sense of belonging, experiencing our evolutionary necessity for being, knowing that life is real and purposeful and revealing of the infinite variety of Source. To that end, human existence is vital.

I remember living in Brooklyn Heights, New York, and each evening walking the ‘promenade’, a one-third mile long raised concrete boardwalk above the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway with a view of the southern tip of Manhattan on the East River side that included the Statue of Liberty, South Street Seaport, Wall Street and before 9/11, the World Trade Center Towers. It did not matter what weather condition prevailed, the view was always spectacular, never boring, albeit in a human mastery of architectural prowess and design sense. Overcast and darkly cloudy, or sunny and brightly reflective, New York’s skyline remains breathtaking regardless the cast.

From the peak of Nebelhorn at about 7,500 feet.

The allure of the Alps is completely divergent. As opposed to strict structural design, the Alps, as in all of nature, is random and complex. There is no visual order. No draftsman drawing renderings. No ‘AutoCad 360’ generating perfect environments. No uniform linearity or angles.

In fact, nature possesses inherently what architects strive for - a sense of spirit that transforms and eclipses the material. And, these rocks have that in spades. They exceed their height by transcending. Their utter beauty is indescribable in it scope and breadth and variety. What is transformative is their relatability without words, explanation, or analysis. These basic elements are the reflection of our guts, our insides, our core, the stuff of truth and solidity. The mantle that precedes mental.

By the Company he Keeps

Aesop’s quote, “A man is known by the company he keeps” suggests that we (men and women) tend to befriend people who are like us. Lest we presume this adage to be another fable, no less than the father of modern political philosophy, Nicollo Machiavelli said, “….For as we can have no better clue to a man's character than the company he keeps, he who frequents worthy company deservedly obtains a good name, since there can hardly fail to be some similarity between himself and his associates”. And, if biblical text is your highest authority, be it known that, “He that walketh with wise men shall be wise: but a companion of fools shall be destroyed. ...Though you may be foolish, wise friends will show and teach you success. Proverbs 13:20

A view from our patio at our house in Weiller-Simmerberg, Germany.

All of this is to say that our son, Alexander, is a true person of character. First of all, he honors us by thinking highly enough of Adele and I to freely introduce us to his friends. That alone would be notable and speaks volumes about the growth and strength of our relationship. Secondly, Alex feels confident in his choice of friends. Thirdly, he does not hesitate to call up these friends, with whom he has maintained a friendship over years, and say, “Oh, by the way, would you care to spend part of a day with my parents? They’ll be in your neck of the woods”. I would never have been that confident as a young man. And, lastly, he simply knows intuitively that we all will have a mutually enjoyable and rewarding experience.

Alex met Mark and Stefan Langer in New York City. A random, fortuitous convergence, they crossed paths in a West Side restaurant. “It was one of the funniest days and best experiences we ever had. We didn’t stop laughing”, the identical twins agree. Mark and Stefan are from Germany and so Alex introduced us to them in 2016 as we were planning our return to Germany. That year, Stefan (who is partnering with Lissi) could not join us but Mark and Sonja (the two are now sharing life) met us in Heidelberg where we ate, cavorted and laughed our way through the day.

Mark Langer and Stefan Langer

It was such a commonly pleasant and rewarding day that Adele and I received a ‘WhatsApp’ later in our stay from Stefan asking whether our schedule would permit us to meet at some date prior to our departure. Evidently, Mark and Sonja’s reporting was favorable enough to persuade Stefan to make a detour in his busy schedule. Unfortunately, we were limited in time and geographically too distant, preventing any sort of gathering, so we had to pass with a promise that we will return.

Mark and Sonja

We kept our promise, and in 2017 Mark, with Stefan and Lissi, met us in Tubingen. Sonja was unfortunately not able to make our arranged days. Tubingen is a college town with a river running through its central section with a tree-lined park, gravel paths, kayak rentals, open-air cafes and beer halls, shops and inexpensive food places to sample every kind of ‘wurst’ in creation. It was not difficult for us to repeat our performance and create a bonding based upon respect and light-hearted fun.

Lissi.

All four of these young people, as well as Alexander, are wonderful, and beautiful specimens of a hopeful future. They are all sober, clear-headed, intelligent and concerned individuals who are responsibly partaking in day to day existence knowing what is important in life. They laugh and play games. And, on this visit, while staying at a magnificently constructed, hand-built house in the farm district in Weiler-Simmerberg, Germany, the three taught us how to play “Cards Against Humanity”, a silly, slightly raunchy game of “fill-in-the-blanks” with phrases reminiscent of a 12-year old’s version of dirty jokes that can really be hysterical.

Sonja

Of course, Alex knows that I love him…that he is loved and is always is my heart. I also want him to know how much I respect and admire him. He has not been bequeathed a simple path. His endowment is a gift of my DNA. “A large ball of yarn to unravel”, as a friend says. Still, Alex is gifted in so many ways, not the least of which is his sincere interest in people, his innate intelligence, his sincerity and his accessibility.

An example of the vertical climb for 900 meters.

Adele and Stefan marveling at our route up the mountain.

The gang rewarding ourselves after our 5 3/4 hour climb

MUNICH : Lessons From The Past

I love Munich. Munich stands stately in structure, in scale and in psyche. Notice I say ‘stately’ with a small ‘s’. I am not referring to the municipal State associated with past authoritarian regimes; nor am I referring to the ‘stiffed-back’ stateliness of politicians as in ‘Person of State’; and, I am not referencing the imposing Imperial State of kings and crowns and courtly manners.

A monument stands in tribute to Max Joseph Pettenkofer, a German chemist and hygienist.

What I am referring to is the sophistication of a casually formal, maybe slightly ceremonious and measured, urbane society. For sure, along with the sense of cultural propriety there exists a somewhat self-imposed communal protocol that has been mistaken for ridgedness and conformity, particularly in light of the rigorous compliance by many Germans during the Fascist regime of the thirties and forties. However, that acceptance and attachment to order and the ‘general good’ also represents profound social distinctions between our American way of life and that of the Europeans. Community recognition and approval of benchmarks, ‘rules’ if you will, are a necessity to the ease of order and assent. In Germany, people are not automatons. To the contrary, they are a highly educates and activists group with civic-minded awareness.

Looking from a bridge onto Maximillaneum

It seems to me that Americans are pretenders to equality, abhor any form of conformity (although we are so obsessed with ‘style that we unconsciously participate and follow unwritten rules of behavior and appearance) and an American Dream that really never existed. In grade school I was taught that the settlers risked their lives for an ideal of religious freedom. In truth, those who risked their lives traversing ocean, starvation and disease were rigid adherents to highly restrictive Calvanist teachings. They were, themselves fanatics. That is to say extremist and bigoted and intolerant followers who simply wanted what they wanted.

Asam Church, one of the finest examples of Baroque and Rococco architecture

Theatine Church

Religion is political. At its core is the establishment of belief systems formulated to retain power, maintain control and enhance privilege. We experience this today the world over. There is hardly any distinction between governments and institutions of religion. And, like the Calvinists of old who justified the genocide of Native Americans by suggesting they were ‘uncivilized’, {“the U.S. government authorized over 1,500 wars, attacks and raids on Indians, the most of any country in the world against its indigenous people. By the close of the Indian Wars in the late 19th century, fewer than 238,000 indigenous people remained, a sharp decline from the estimated 5 million to 15 million living in North America when Columbus arrived in 1492”} worldwide faith-based politics is asserting itself and once again in our own country in its most vile, racist and fascist forms, evoking fear and hatred and intolerance.

A river view

Germany, however, has learned it’s lessons from its own past behavior. Ironically, it was the Americans who assisted in not merely demanding but guiding the German society in establishing educational-based instruction teaching about the period for which the Germans are, still today, so embarrassed and ashamed. In this case, the student has become the teacher. German society, certainly not without its own disturbing right-wing proponents and advocates of extreme immigration bias, is a most permissive and progressive nation.

A small church square

The only real fault that I can see is that practically nowhere in Germany is there anything green on a dinner plate. Oh, they have “mixed salads” which offer leafs and a sundry assortment of various veggies beneath the greens including cucumber salad, carrot salad, bean salad, etc. but no spinach, kale, or string beans and no broccoli, cauliflower or eggplant. Tonight I had a German specialty, Kartoffelkloesse, sautéed potato dumplings with fried onions on salad. I swear this could have been prepared by my Jewish grandmother. It was so delicious. The dumplings were sautéed to a crispy exterior and a light, airy yet chewy interior that contrasted with the caramel sweetness of the onions. So yummy.

A view of the Deutsche Museum through the branches

The problem was that we had dinner at a jazz club, Jazz Unterfarhten (an underground venue in which there are theaters, a cinema and galleries along with this cool, night music place) and while the drummer was drumming, and the bassist was plucking, and the pianist was plunking and singing in perfect pitch, and the lead saxophonist, a thirty-five year veteran of the horn, was blowing, I was in pain refraining from ‘tooting’ along with the group. There must have been two dozen small dumplings on the plate and I didn’t leave a single one…and they didn’t leave me alone for the next several hours.

I don’t know, can’t imagine at this moment how we, as a society, will ever discover a unified vision that will unite and sustain us at a nation. It is a consummate wish.

The Neue Radthaus at Marienplatz

FOLLOWING THE FJORDS

Majestic mountains, formed by massive movements of earth’s mantle (shifting plate tectonics) along cracks, crags, fissures and fractures called “faults”, or over hundreds of thousands of years by the depositing of colossal tonnage of sediment along shore lines that presses down on one side and like a gigantic see-saw, forces mantle upward creating peaks and ridges of great elevation. This explains the presence of mountain ranges along coastal areas worldwide.

But then by a different process, or actually a single long-term event, which took place a mere thirty thousand years ago, fjords were created. Imagine a significant portion of earth’s surface was covered with colossally huge and extraordinarily heavy ice formations. At the end of the current “Ice Age” the ice formations grew to a height of over 12,000 feet thick. The sheer weight of the ice sufficient to depress the Earth’s crust, and was capable of causing enormous changes to the Earth’s surface, reshaping the landscape.

At a peak in the Garainger Fjord area.

An early morning scene at Sognefjord

As temperatures drop, layers of melting ice form beneath the enormity of glaciers causing a ‘rink’-like effect, allowing for the gliding of ice mountains back toward the Northern poles. This ‘recession’ is of such indescribable force, an unstoppable retreat, that mammoth chunks of crust and rock are lifted and drifted away,ripping, tearing and carving out valleys, rivers and lakes that widen and deepen over time.

Sogneford Fjord

A snow-capped Mountain View in Sognefjord.

A puny trickle
A torrent of waterfalls
Each part of the whole

On our first full day, the four of us traveled by bus, train, and boat leaving only a camel, as Adele would point out, as the sole means of unutilized transportation. This was an extraordinary day, for in the presence of all this magnificence, I sense the smallness of our existence. Small is not menial or meaningless. No. Contrarily, neither is it important or vital. We are not distinguishable from all the diversity within the vast play of Source’s intermeshing manifest nature. We are an expression, a single gesture of that infinite wonder of all that Source is. This knowledge forces one to be humble and modest. We are here for a purpose, no doubt. First and foremost, to be what we are as exemplary models of humanity. Nothing more is asked by anyone’s god. There is an essence to each ‘being’. Be human. That is not always pretty or easy., So many brain cells, the struggle with ego, politics, religion, State boundaries, ownership of resources, personal limitations. When do we give ourselves the chance to be integral with nature? Oh yes, it is perfect that we are imperfect…even slowly destroying our planet. Thus, in the grander sense we are contributing to the ever-growing, larger body of knowledge of our manifest nature for future generations.

Lysefjord

I do not fear death in the presence of this grace and grandeur. In such vastness I am filled with…the only word I can think of is…dignity. Not the self-centered dignity of prestige or position, rather the dignity of decency and virtue. I am not consumed by taking, instead I sense a wish to be taken, to give myself over. I feel less the need to ‘represent’ myself, instead to present myself and by my actions. I want more to be ‘a part of’ than ‘apart from’. I do not have a ‘death wish’, yet, what I seek are moments closest to death - to be filled with unselfconscious and overwhelming joy, when the profound subjective is absent of words and descriptions or definitions. Then, I am limitless as the sky that frames all this beauty. I am Love.

Hardangerfjord

Snow falling on top
Record heat on valley floor
There’s no climate change?

Hairpin turns going up and coming down Geiranger Fjord

An installation on a street in Trondheim

Aurlandsfjord

NORWAY : Part 1 - OSLO

We left Helsinki in a most convenient manner. Two days before our departure we took a taxi to the Iitala design museum. The taxi driver is an expat from Somalia who spoke excellent English, along with Norwegian and his native language. And, he was curious. He asked a great many questions of us: about America; words and phrases; attitudes, and of course about Trump wondering, “How did he get elected?”. At the end our route, our friend inquired as to whether Liibaan would be able to meet us all and drive us to the airport? And, he agreed. Our friends needed to leave at the ungodly hour of 5AM. But, Liibaan was there with a smile, on time, and drove them to the airport. Likewise, at 9:30, Adele and I stepped out of the elevator to a message, “I’m downstairs”, so we simply walked our baggage to the curb and were off to the airport.

Eight days was simply too long in Helsinki. Given what we thought we knew about its being a ‘design center’ with a new architecture, we actually found ourselves wanting for more and desiring to move on. So much so that on Monday, July 8, we were all planning our last day in Helsinki, including packing for Wednesday’s departure. Were it not for our friend, Viv’s, curiousity that led her to look at a calendar we would not have realized that July 11, our departure date, was actually a Thursday. We all froze for an endless second, calculating in our heads if our renrtal apartment was paid through Thursday or if we would be out on the street for one night. In fact, the apartment was ours until Thursday so an emotional crises was averted…and we all had a good laugh.

Then, we arrived in Oslo…

Twelve buildings comprising the “Bar Code” district. All individuals designers and architects contributing to this interpretive area.

Oslo was the real surprise…

The Oslo Oper House

An Oslo street scene

It had everything: architecture, scale, ethnic restaurants, delicious bread, and ‘warm’ people. I say warm because they are not immediately available or cordial. They remind me of ‘urban farmers’. Farmers have an abundance of chores, responsibilities and worries, from dawn to dusk, and simply would prefer having their fingernails dug deep into the ‘business at hand’, soil and survival, than have to deal with niceties. Scandanavians live in a sparsely populated world in relative isolation. Adele first noted that (as a generalization) Scandanavians are, shall we say, impassive, self-contained. They do not respond to passing greetings. They are not rude, rather self-sufficient and private. I utilized the “Nod and Smile” to get a passer by’s attention. However, the nod seemed intrusive and the smile completely disregarded.

On a gloriously sunny day, Adele and I took a walk toward a park and discovered a marina with an outdoor restaurant that invited ‘al fresco’ dining. Our wait person showed us to our table demonstrating an unusual degree of friendliness such that before we even took our seats Adele inquired, “May I ask you a question?” And proceeded to describe our experiences with Scandanavians. “Oh, that is so Finnish” she laughed. “That’s who we are. We don’t hold doors for the next person. We don’t ask what a another would like when ordering. We take care of ourselves”. Social courtesies are not an issue. It might be interesting studying the ‘courting process’ in Scandinavia. How is one ‘nice’ to another?

Vigelamd Park - Scene 1 -maybe he simply sits with his love

We visited Vigeland Sculptural Park. Vigeland, located in Fogner Park, is the largest park in the world devoted to the sculpture of a single artist. Gustav Vigeland dedicated his life to the creation of highly emotional sculptural pieces that were as reviled as they were admired.

Vineland Park - Scene 2

Politics aside, Vigeland is a fantastic place to visit. With over 250 sculptures, including a massive monolith of writhing, racing bodies clawing their way to the top, as if struggling to assure entry into Heaven.

One of over two hundred sculptures by Gustsv Vigeland in Vigeland Park, the worlds largest park devoted to the works of a single artist.

A portrait of a sculpture.

A sculptural fountain in Vigeland Park.

Oslo is a diverse and wonderfully ‘new’ city in so many ways. There is no consistent architectural theme, other than, maybe, soaring, complex, functional, socially friendly intricate structures that invites light and participation. These are active communities where all people come to walk the promenade, watch the sailboats and enjoy the stunning harbor and sea views.

The S.A.L.T. Area in Oslo.

Another downtown multi-us project.

With our friends, Michael and Barbara at Vigeland Park

Next, our tripping through the Fjords…

H E L S I N K I

How did we decide to come to Helsinki? It was not exactly an afterthought, although it was not primary on our travel bucket list. In fact our dear friends, who were to be in Berlin, asked if we would be interested in joining them in Finland because they had never been, and did our schedule permit a meetup. Our mutual interests were in Design and Architecture, and we each heard about the exceptional and quality design, period architecture and contemporary sculpture in Helsinki. So, here we are.

A lovely residential street off a square

A typical commercial boulevard in Helsinki

A lovely building with a charming balcony

The architecture is a mix of Russian Neo-Classicism to Art Deco

On the other hand, I was asked just today if I would return to Helsinki, and I responded in the negative. Still, Helsinki is easy to overlook or dismiss. In fact, these last few days have been filled with architectural delights, beautiful streets and avenues, a peninsula harbor, an active market square, a lively esplanade, two exceptional ‘tourist’ sites, and a singularly great meal.

Uspenskii Cathedral

The interior domes of Uspenskii Cathedral

Helsinki Cathedral

“We are travelers, not tourists.”
Which brings me to a larger question: “Why do Adele and I travel in the first place”? I use the above standard ‘line’ as a response to people’s inquiries that quickly conveys our real interests in culture and history, and our desire for personal contact and intimate interactions as opposed to rushing to and from place to place, or sites hopping and “On and Off” tours with indifferent guides. Our real wish is to feel absorbed by and integrated with our surroundings; to engage in dialog and conversations; to discover commonalities, and enjoy our distinctions. In all fairness, Adele and I are blessed and privileged to be able to spend this time moving about the world. No doubt.

The bus loads of people on one side of the Sibelius Monument

A great example of this syndrome, (and I bring to your attention only one of many examples), was our visit to the Sibelius Monument in the northwest sector of the city. The structure is a memorial to Jean Sibelius, a Finnish composer who lived during the latter half of the 19th century and first half of the 20th century. The structure is comprised of 600 hollow steel pipes welded together in a wave-like pattern. And, although it doesn’t have a front or back, one side faces the park entrance where tourist buses line up to unload dozens of visitors to the monument at a single dump.

As we were observing and admiring the intricacies of design, Adele said, “Let’s go around to the other side. There’s no one there”. So, we looped around to the rear of the sculpture (which is not the rear) to take a look from this alternate vantage point and minus the encumbrance of the crowd. And, indeed, there was literally not a single person on that side. The tourists disembarked from their buses, walked to the monument, took their pictures, roamed from side to side, peered from underneath…and walked back to waiting transportation, never going around to the other side. It would be comical were it not so sad.

The ‘side too far’ for the tourists at the Sibelius Monument

Another dear, warm, and insightful friend had suggested that we bring forth our intention, that we possess the opportunity to share a vital part of ourselves - our love and concern for the well-being of all - as a core mission. To be examples of a solution to the negativity, venality, coarseness and false pride manifest in the world. To model generosity, kindness, openness, availability, vulnerability. To create lines of communication without judgments or bias or opinions.

Four icebreakers in tow for Summer.

At first, even the suggestion felt rudely ‘philanthropic’, more than slightly arrogant, and tinged with misplaced altruism. To presume that we two might be ‘missionaries’ of peace and love and harmony, some kind of vessels for change, felt incredulous. In light of our checkered pasts, in the face of our personal struggles, ‘couple troubles’, and discord, I felt the weight of my former self, my foolish mistakes and misguided behavior. How could I represent anything other than myself, as I am currently, in this moment? How is a message conveyed such that strangers, not at all dissimilar to ourselves, come away with value other than their having met two decent folk, amongst the throngs.

A waterfront scene at Market Square

The answers came to me in a rather pedestrian manner - no fireworks; no fanfare. Like a D-U-H! It is a result of our history. It is the outcome of the ‘inside’ work we have done, both alone and mutually. It is because we live our curiousity and inquiry. (As Rainer Maria Rilke advised a young student to “Live the questions”.) It is as a result of our being able to be in this moment, in this ‘NOW’ that we can convey, without preaching or sermonizing, our LOVE. We have worked really hard at this.

We love you all.

A Cafe. A Corner. A Coffee.

“With any luck, Heaven will resemble a vast used book store, with a really good cafe in one corner”
Michael Dirda

Í want someone to look at me the way I look at coffee/If you’re not coffee, chocolate or bacon, I’m going to need you to go away/You should know that before 10am, whatever the question, my answer is always coffee/I pretend coffee helps, but I’m still insufferable/Patience is the time between drinking a cup of coffee and the motivation to begin your day/With enough coffee, I can dress myself and use my grown up manners/Sometimes I go hours without drinking coffee…it’s called sleeping/Life is what happens between coffee and wine/I will start working when my coffee does/Here’s to all the people who remain unharmed because I have coffee and a sense of humor.

The color of rich saddlewood or luxuriant leathers - dark brown with soft undertones - remind me how befitting is the word ‘mocha’. A heady froth, white like sea foam, atop a perfectly brewed cup of dark roast. My returning to a cafe for a second time is a profound choice. The cafe becomes mine, and I become all aspects of the cafe,,,a kind of proprietary self-puffery, a place where my private thoughts can reside - my ambitions and indiscretions; my impossible dreams and pragmatic realities. A place where it is quiet enough for my brain to run rampant and noisy enough for me to isolate within the din of chatter. Proximal, yet sufficiently remote and indistinct. A ‘white noise’ of humanity.

On the second visit, I am familiar with the entry, so I needn’t hesitate; I know from where the coffee is dispensed; I know the window seat, I’ve identified the green fabric chair in the back with the small, round metal table, I spied the rickety, wooden two-seater street-side where I can claim contentment. These people are my people no matter in what city. They share the search and the journey. Share the anticipation and disappointment. Share the joy and heartbreak. I can be alone amongst the many or notice a passerby who notices me and smiles or nods or simply makes eye contact and in that moment I am no longer alone, I am irresistibly part of a whole. Indeed, we are all mere passers-by observing the randomness over time.

Hard as we may try to have it be otherwise, it is all about ‘connection’. Connecting with ourselves. Connecting with our truth. Connecting with our reality. Connecting with our authenticity. Connecting with our purpose. Connecting with our autonomy. Connecting with our love. The internet is failing. Humanity is flailing. Phrases like “take back your power” and “winning is all” are in vogue, as if to describe some hidden specie drive to conquer and dominate those very things we need to connect with. People seek happiness and know not joy - one is external and continually needs feeding; the other emanates from within requiring little to achieve deep gratification. Coffee places help me connect even in my most solitary of moods.

I like writing at a cafe. Even my distractable self can focus and create in the impersonal warmth of a cafe. And, like a child who runs to play and then realizes they’ve gone too far so scurries back to mom or dad for a ‘touch base’, if I get too lost in my absorption, I can lift my head, and watch someone entering or leaving the cafe or walking their coffee to their seat, and reassure myself that I am they and they me and give myself permission to continue. A cafe is a place to overcome fear of dissolution and desolation.

"I loved the newsroom," Malcolm Gladwell responded in an interview. "When I left it I wanted to recreate the newsroom and the closest thing to a newsroom is any kind of random active social space." The best coffee shop offers what he calls "the right kind of distraction’. “There has to be some sort of osmotic process, just as happens with journalists together in the office…I do think that simply being around people who are not my age is really useful."

I would add being around people of another culture. Frankly, Americans irk me. I am not sure why? I’m annoyed by their habits, gestures, inconsiderateness, arrogance and pushiness. I know intellectually that I might be sensitive to these things in an American environment where I am familiar with social norms. But, that is the point. I am less picky and more tolerant when culturally infatuated. And, right now I am totally taken by the Danes. This makes sense. There is no need for Danes to scrimmage every morning, feeling like they are confronting their opposition head on in a competition of wills.I find them very up-front, even blunt, not in a rude way, rather more matter of fact.

Adele and I are leaving Copenhagen tomorrow on our way to Helsinki. Today will be our last visit to some cafe. We will remember Copenhagen, much like we did Vienna, by the cafes…and much else. So, I will end with other memories of Copenhagen.

Christianborg Palace

A highlight of the trip was a visit to The Louisiana Museum

…and their collection of Giocommetti’s

And, the assortment of parks…

…and even the touristy Nyhavn has retained its charm.

Of course, being joined by dear friends is such a privilege and treat

Chairs Glorious Chairs

“You might want to sit down for this.”

A chair that moves motionlessly

Two years ago, while in Amsterdam, we visited the not oft’ attended ‘Museum of Bags and Purses’. Mind you, one of us possessed a mild interest, the other was, shall we say, accomodating. However, I found myself fascinated by the history, array and development of the roles and functions of carryalls, from: Renaissance jeweled clutch bags; Elizabethan ornamental purses and men’s snuff boxes to famous designers and fashion house bags from tiny ‘opera’ bags to large shoulder satchels. The reason I bring this up is because sometimes in your travels you have a moment, an experience, a ‘happening’ that absent prescribed plans or described expectations when you are so pleasantly surprised and richly rewarded..

Reminds me of candy ribbons

Such was the case at Denmark’s Design Museum in Copenhagen. Who would’a thunk? Denmark has long been an innovator in design and function in everything from kitchenware and appliances to functional design elements for the home. We even saw a revolutionary pig feeder. But, the highlight of the museum was their permanent collections of chairs.

”The chair is a very difficult object. Everyone who has ever tried to make one knows that. There are endless possibilities and many problems - the chair has to be light, it has to be strong it has to be comfortable. It is almost easier to build a skyscraper than a chair.”. Ludwig Mies Van Dear Rohe

Absolutely love this chair

(To the tune of), “Food Glorious Food” from the Broadway musical “OLIVER”

“Chairs, glorious chairs
Wool, leather or metal
Must be “in the groove”
For all asses to settle
Round, oblong, rectangular…size and shape do matter
There shouldn’t be any bumps, so your ‘bum’ can sit flatter.

Chairs glorious chairs
Crafted for Kings and peasants
Although peasants stand
In the King’s royal presence
After a long day at work, what brings on a sigh
A soft cushion to set your butt, shut your eyes and go ‘bye-bye.’

Chairs glorious chairs
Blue, chartreuse and pale pink
First remove your shoes
Get comfortable but don’t slink
Move on over and share your seat with your partner fair
In you chair, marvelous chair, fabulous chair
GLORIOUS CHAIR.

I thought it was ean animal at first

Multi-shaped

Metal, wood and leather

Needs a cushion?

Beautifully crafted

COPENHAGEN: Culture Cool - Part 2

Our apartment is around the corner from Rosenborg Castle surrounded by lush tree-lined gardens. On our first sojourn, on our way to The Little Mermaid, we detoured to walk through the gardens and lawn, smell the flowers, and ‘people watch. With the showpiece 16th century castle at one end, the streets encircling the other three sides are lined with stately mansions. The rich and the Royal abound. But this is the public’s park and is used heavily and respectfully by all. It is immaculate.

Rosenborg Gardens

Rosenborg Gardens

Øster Anlaeg Park

Our next and first full day, Adele and I took a tour of Copenhagen with a guide that had more than a mild penchant for sarcasm. He was scathing toward Chinese tourists; scoffed at Floridians; told everyone that “if the Germans have already left…you’re late”; saw the future for Brits and it was ‘Brexitly’ bleak; saving his most humorous insults for the Swedes who with the Danes have posed as each other’s vindictively comic foils for hundreds of years. Nonetheless, he was encyclopedic in knowledge - history; social norms and practices; with a touch of religion, music and ‘foodie’ psychology thrown in for good measure.

Adele in the Rosenborg Castle Gardens

Yet, what impacted us the most was his detailed analytics of Danish society. I paraphrase here: “Americans love to call Danes Socialists, but we are anything but…even more ‘capatistic’ than the States.” Yes, it is true that this young man pays 70% of his earnings to the government. But, here is what society receives in return. A guaranteed income. Guaranteed wages if you are unemployed. Free education. (Danes typically speak three languages - Danish, English…and a third) Free health care as part of one of the best systems in the world. Mandatory paid leave for both mothers and fathers upon the birth of a child. Six weeks annual, mandatory vacation. Aside from rent, these represents the greatest costs to individuals in all societies.

“That’s crazy”, you say? In fact, it is capitalistic, regenerative…and Democratic. The rationale, (hold on to your seats and buckle up, you Conservatives) is that “a healthy and happy employee is productive and loyal”. Given the opportunity, all people want to work and contribute. A successful wage earner is not resentful of someone else earning more. Those whose earnings allow them privileges, do not look down upon those whose contributions are otherwise and vital to the whole. The unemployed are supported so that as soon as the economic downturn corrects and hiring starts, they can be employed without suffering the costs of negative economic conditions for which no one has responsibility. Meanwhile, their buying power keeps the economy thriving. Employees want their people back because they are of value to the company. The current unemployment rate in Denmark is 3.8% as Denmark is one of the most stable economies in the world. This economy works. People live as equals because they are viewed equally…not according to income, status, or reputation. By right. As Danes.

As an example, our apartment host was supposed to meet us upon our arrival. In his place, his charming wife came to the door. She explained that he had some pains and was discovered to have a ruptured appendix. He was admitted to the hospital, had the procedure within 24 hours, and emailed Adele and I later in the day to ensure that we were comfortable. How’s that for ‘Socialism’.

Nyhavn - New Harbor

No doubt, Denmark is having a nationalistic wave of anti-immigration and right-wing protests. On the other hand, Denmark has an enlightened history best described by the words from the diary of Christian X, King of Denmark, enshrined during the Nazi occupation: “The Jews are a part of the Danish nation. We have no Jewish problem in our country because we never had an inferiority complex in relation to the Jews.  If the Jews are forced to wear the yellow Star, I and my whole family shall wear it as a badge of honor.” This was not ever required of the Danes, despite the folklore. His stand was still an extraordinarily courageous act.

A group of attentive listeners.

A Segment Photo of a Sculpture by Bertel Thorvaldsen at Thorvaldsen Museum

COPENHAGEN : Culture Cool - Part 1

Adele and I passed through the air between New York and Copenhagen without event. We received our luggage expeditiously and found our way to the Metro. The Metro trip to City Center is all of 12 minutes and made easy to locate by continual directional signs. That left us at Kongens Nytorv station (City Center) at the bottom of a series of four flights of stairs. We each were dragging our suitcases that weighed in at 44 lbs. apiece. Not bad at all for toting one’s life for two and a half months and well under the 50 lb. limit. I was left with the choice of pulling up baggage in bumpity-bump, steppity-step fashion each of a dozen steps for four levels or hauling dead weight to the top. Not so kind on my knees. Still, I lifted the first suitcase just as a lovely couple turned the corner at street level, chatting away about to descend. The moment the young man saw me struggling with the luggage, he skipped to it, with a nod to his lovely lady friend, and with a big smile (and a quite sturdy anatomy) asked if he could assist. He easily lifted and hauled the first suitcase to the top while his partner, quickly alerted to what was occurring, ran to me as I tackled with the next piece of luggage. She offered to cargo the second piece, but I declined saying, “I got it”, in true, fake male dominance style. However, the young man by that time had completed his toting of the first and ran back down grabbing the second bag and hauled it topside. “Have a nice day”, they both said not waiting for thanks. “Enjoy your stay in Copenhagen.” We most certainly will.

Adele turned to me and observed, “There could be no greater welcome!”

INDEED.

We were early for our check-in, so we stopped for a cup of coffee on a busy main artery. Sitting outside in the middle of the day meant watching the locals cycle everywhere. There are more bicycles per capita in Copenhagen that any other city in the world. There are more bicycles than people. Pedestrians must yield to bicycles. About 60% of the Copenhagen population bike to work. You learn very quickly not to step off the curb without the light in your favor.

Our apartment is charming. Large for European inner cities, the buildings are part of a complex of buildings built in the 1950’s. Recently restored and declared (to the chagrin of the owners) a historical landmark development, the structures were designed by a famous Danish architect for whom the government felt it necessary to ‘update’ with similar materials and mandating absolutely no changes permitted to the interior design of the apartments. That being said, they are ample and bright. Their situation is particularly favorable since we are in the City Center but surrounded by this horseshoe of buildings which provides open space, light and quiet.

We planted ourselves in the apartment at 2pm, unpacked, rehydrated, slept a bit, refreshed and then at about 5pm, somewhat revitalized, took off to visit with the “LITTLE MERMAID”.

This was important for me to do first off because when I spent a summer at age 15 as a guest worker on a merchant marine training vessel, our first stop was Copenhagen. And, my first sight was the Little Mermaid, right near our docking pier. She was a gift from a Danish industrialist to the city and fashioned after a ballet of the same name based upon the Hans Christian Andersen fable which entranced him as a child. The Little Mermaid has sat in these waters since 1913 welcoming sailors and visitors who enter the harbor.

Truth be told, she is somewhat underwhelming, both sculpturally and poised as she is in a repository pool of water that offers too close access to youthful indiscretion. Poor lass has been decapitaed, maimed, paint splattered, and has even had a dildo cemented to her head. Nonetheless, to my hitherto romantically immature heart she was a siren of beauty. And, I have chosen to keep the affair going without jaundiced eyes preserving my memory of that first time.

Berlin - Part 1: In a Family Way

Written  September 24

It is a serenely satisfying Sunday morning here in Prenzlauer Berg [PB], Berlin. Autumn has made an early appearance with temperatures in the high 40's as we awaken, rising to the low-60's by mid-afternoon. Germany's weather can be variable to a maddening degree. During the course of a single hour you can experience four seasons. That breathtakingly beautiful soft breeze of summer's fading warmth with an overlay of chill portending the coming Fall. Then, with the sun at full height and exposed with the parting clouds, heat that requires for a layer or two to be stripped. If the sun becomes shielded by cloud coverage and the wind picks up, the winter is more than inferred, the air piercing, you are once again compelled to bundle up. This bantering between you and the weather is a conversation that continues throughout the day.

I have made a ritual, first thing in the morning, of opening the tall, glass-paneled doors to our fourth-floor  balcony overlooking Hufelandstrasse and, stepping outside filling my lungs with a bracing gasp of brisk morning air. I then gaze skyward to determine, by the most indeterminate of forecasting methods, if there will be any natural impediment to our day. Then, I listen to the sounds of a wakening village - the "flub-a-flub-a-flub' of delivery trucks tires over cobblestone streets; the squeak and rattle of the cortège of bicycles; the low-level cafe chatter at the coffee houses that line the street; and, the range of gurgles, whines and laughter of children sharing mom's or dad's breakfast.

 A view from our balcony

This is a privileged district in Berlin. Once 'up and coming', Prenzlauer has "up and came". Prenzlauer in general, and Hufelandstrasse in particular became "an anomaly in the increasingly drab Soviet-administered city" during the reign of "the wall", from 1961 - 1989. Right smack in the middle of East Berlin, these buildings boast proud facades and balconies, linden trees line the broad sidewalks, and an unusual number of privately-owned shops remain in business established since the Soviet blight. Following the reunification, Hufelandstrasse had undergone what many refer to as the most rapid and miraculous gentrification anywhere...ever. Just one kilometer in length, with 49 beautiful and historic houses from the Gründerzeit period and a single modern structure from after Reunification, Hufelandstrasse is a model settled community. “The street is more beautiful than I expected, but also more foreign. It lies in the old East – yet that East has eluded it.” Joachim Gauck

 Stately buildings line the Volderpark Freiderickshain where we walk daily.

Volderpark Freidreckshain

During the post cold ware era, the German population was in steep decline. In 1996 the growth rate fell off 4% the previous year which followed years of steady decline. So, the government instituted policies that would encourage families to have children which included subsidies for rent, education and health care. These policies had immediate impact, and the growth in Prenzlauer was not merely ensured, but focused a new generation in the city's most charming area. Accused of being 'haute middle-class", I personally am reminded of my own young adult years in the streets of the Bronx and Brooklyn in the midst of similar revamping, expansion and improvement. I witnessed the gentrification which, as a young man, took me to the garbage and butt-strewn streets of the Upper West Side of New York with vagrants and vamps living in public parks and dark recesses. I was never happier. Later, in Brooklyn Heights, I felt the majesty of the old red brick, mid to late 19th century brownstones as they were renovated and spruced up for what became prime real estate in New York.

It's no wonder why these bright and successful young people have chosen Prenzlauer as their home. An amble down the wide avenue is like a reveal of modern sensibilities. It starts at the bookstore on the far corner, where you pick up the tram. A salon, ballet and dance school, a cafe, dress shop, cafe, bakery/cafe, cafe, apothecary, and deli on a single street. It continues: a pharmacy, Portuguese restaurant, Electrical Stimulation exercise studio, cafe, Italian restuarant, another exercise studio, osteopath, florist, travel agency, and cafe. The other side of the street opposite our building has three cafes in succession - one with health food, another a soup and salad 'take-out' restaurant and an Italian cafe and pastry place. Three Thai restaurants, a German restaurant, and a Korean pancake restaurant are cordial companions with the Pizzeria, two German bakeries and designer clothing shops. One hardly has to wander far.

 "Wow! That is some stroller."

Grandmothers, of course, are part of the story.

Never have I been to a place so befittingly descriptive of Garrison Keillor's refrain, "where all the women are strong, all the men are good looking, and all the children are above average." Except the women are stunnning and strong and the men vulnerable and good looking, and all fearlessly playing out their roles without any sense of self-deprecation. Everything is so nice and normal...as life should be. So, why not have children.

A cafe in the park where Adele and I take our daily constitutional.

We would see as many as four kids balanced between stroller, 'bumper seats' and arms. 

No longer funky and 'hep', Hufelandstrasse is lively but staid and not very exotic. Adele likes to point out that you can hardly walk on the sidewalks in Prenzlauer without getting hit by a stroller. The perambulator is the current weapon of choice here. Mothers, dads and pregnant women are everywhere. They meet, by chance, on corners like rashes of chicken pox. They meet as "ladies who lunch" at coffee houses at all hours of the day. But, the new "metro-sexual" male is not a rarity. Seen pushing a stroller and entertaining the kids in the late afternoons and on weekends, they share responsibilities demonstrating the new world order.

I think what we most enjoyed and admired was the complete civility of our neighborhood. There was a quiet acceptance of their good fortune rather than a brash demonstration. People were friendly, for sure, but then would go out of their way to be helpful.  There are issues amongst the Germans regarding the breadth and scope of Merkel's immigration policies, but by-and-large the people of Germany have accepted a new role for themselves. The appear to be ready to lead the world in many ways.