The loneliness of the long-distance commuter.
This passageway leads out to 42nd Street. It’s one of those you do what you gotta do photos. Grand Central Station looked a lot more festive around the holidays, but now it’s back to the grind. For everyone.
Whilst in Cleveland I took The Daughters to the Cleveland Museum of Art to see the Paul Gauguin: Paris: 1889 exhibit. It was fortuitous that we were in town for it because Cleveland is the only U.S. stop. After Clevo, it heads to the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam. What a coup for Cleveland!
The show recreates the exhibition that Gauguin organized on the grounds of the 1889 Exposition Universelle, which is now recognized as the first Symbolist exhibition in Paris. It included In The Waves, one of my favorite not-Polynesian Gauguin’s.
Were you aware that the Cleveland Museum of Art has one of the greatest art collections in the country? It’s true! It can easily hold it’s own against the big houses in New York. They have some spectacular Calder mobiles and sculptures. I love Calder. So did the kids.
One of my proudest moments so far as a parent occurred when we turned a corner and 8-Year Old Daughter casually said, “Look, Dad, there’s a Pollock.” My work is almost complete.
Here’s something to tuck away in case you visit a museum in the near future: 3-years old is WAY, WAY, WAY too young for an art museum. Their attention span just isn’t there yet and you’ll have to divide your time between worshiping the art and making sure she doesn’t climb on the Degas sculpture pedestal. Just so you know.
3-Year Old Daughter did stop long enough to admire the Red Grooms diorama of New York. This scene is the corner of Broadway and Canal Street. Click on this one! Red Grooms and Alexander Calder are the most kid-friendly artists you’ll find in any museum, anywhere.
3-Year Old Daughter got her first face-full of Monet’s water lilies. She was not impressed. Yet…
The museum also has a pretty impressive collection of medieval armor and weapons. 3-Year Old dared him to climb down off of that horse.
Dear 2000, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 and 9:
Bugger off.
All of you, you dirty, rotten, no good, low down, two-timing, yellow-bellied, double crossing, back stabbing, snakes in the grass.
I didn’t think 2009 could be worse than 2008 but do you know what? It was! It just goes to show you that it’s never safe to set your expectations. I don’t use this forum to vent my troubles. I choose to leave out the dreary stuff. Plus, I was raised to pretend that everything is okay, even when it’s not. Don’t talk about it and perhaps it’ll just go away.
[Ms. Daisyfae, do you think that’s an Ohio/Midwest thing? I’ve always considered that mine was a problem of geography.]
But take my word for it, 2009 was no picnic for me or the people around me.
Ten years ago, Mrs. Wife and I welcomed the new decade wile dancing at Bruce Springsteen’s New Years Eve party. It’s one of the top five nights of my life. Tonight we’re in the family room wrapped in the red blanket and watching Ed Harris tear his guts out as Jackson Pollock.
Okay. As Mr. Bukowski put it, scramble two.
Happy New Year to my readers. Your attention is a gift to me.
We visited the Cleveland Science Center. I’ve never been a big science center kind of guy but when you’re in Cleveland in December, you either have to find indoor activities for the kiddies to burn off their energy or suffer the consequences.
There were some really cool exhibits. They had a working Theramin. That’s the device that makes weird spacey sounds when you wave your hand near it. It’s featured in Good Vibrations by the Beach Boys. They also had a plasma tube. There’s an electric current running inside and if you touch the side of the glass, the current attached itself to your fingers.
How neat is that?! I called 3-Year Old Daughter over. I wanted a picture of her grasping the tube. I thought it would make for a nice blog photo. She reached up and lightly touched it with the tip of her index finger. I wanted her to have a better connection so I pressed her palm against the tube.
ttzzzzzZAP!
WAAAHHHH! Daddy you PINCHED ME! AAaaagghhh! I want MOMMY!
Do this, don’t do that,
can’t you read the signs?
Five Man Electrical Band
I introduced 8-Year Old Daughter to one of Cleveland’s finer culinary offerings. This…
…is a Romanburger. As of this writing, you cannot buy one in either New York or New Jersey. You have to go to Cleveland and get them at Mr. Hero.
You take two cheeseburgers made from beef of questionable quality, lay them side-by-side in a soft Italian roll on a bed of lettuce, tomatoes and onions, gently sprinkle on some of Mr. Hero’s Italian “oil’n spice,” slather it with their “special recipe” mayo and then (here comes the game-changer) you lay on some grilled Genoa Salami and Italian Luncheon loaf.
That’s right. It’s a cheeseburger with grilled lunch meat. Pure genius. You want to lick the screen, don’t you? It’s trademarked, so don’t get any ideas.
Mrs. Wife said, “That looks gross.” 8-Year Old Daughter approves. I rest my case.
Random observation: Drivers in Cleveland signal their lane changes about 80% of the time. A big gold star for you guys!
Exile on Pain Street 