What I Did This Summer

Does anyone remember having to write the requisite “What I Did This Summer” essay assignment upon returning to school in the fall?  It was a dreadful assignment on a number of levels.  Those students who didn’t like to write or couldn’t write well stumbled over the syntax and task of organizing what might indeed have been a great set of stories, while others more gifted in the art of gab crafted often tantalizing tales of adventures in far flung places that made the rest of the class feel bad about themselves because their summer travels paled in comparison. 

My favorite “What I Did This Summer” story of all time is, hands down, Olivia Saves the Circus,  a children’s book that I first encountered when my daughter was in pre-Kindergarten.  Olivia is the beloved and mischievous character created by Ian Falconer, who began his career as a cartoonist for The New Yorker.  

In Olivia Saves the Circus, the reader is treated to Olivia’s delightful summer fantasy in which Olivia literally saves the circus by stepping in as various performers find themselves benched by ear infections. 

The story opens as Olivia is finishing up a breakfast of pancakes.  After her morning ablutions, Olivia rides her scooter to school. Once in her classroom, Olivia is asked to stand up and “tell the class about her vacation. 

Olivia, we’re told, [of course] always blossoms in front of an audience.”  Bursting with confidence and mischief, Olivia then launches into a fabulous tale about the circus her mother took her to visit, a circus whose entire cast sadly and mysteriously had been stricken with ear infections!

Olivia is undeterred by this small problem because, as she explains, “Luckily, I know how to do everything.”  “Everything,” it turns out, includes becoming the Tattooed Lady (my personal favorite is the “Remember the Maine” tattoo she inks on with a magic marker), taming the lions, walking the tightrope, performing on the trapeze, jumping on the trampoline, entertaining the crowd with various clown activities, and putting on a show in the ring as “Madame Olivia and Her Trained Dogs,” who “weren’t,” she explains, “very trained. “  

Next comes funniest line of all and the one, I believe, on which this essay truly rests:  “Then one time my dad took me sailing.  The End.”

As skeptical as a specially appointed prosecutor, Olivia’s teacher asks, “Was that true?”

“Pretty true,” Olivia responds.

Again, the teacher asks, “All true?”

“Pretty all true,” says Olivia with a straight face.

“Are you sure, Olivia?” the teacher presses yet again.

“To the best of my recollection,” Olivia replies, the perfect politician.

How many times have you felt the skepticism Olivia’s teacher when you look at your friends’ fabulous vacation shots on Instagram and Facebook?  Do you ever feel a bit like Olivia’s teacher?  Do you wonder if you asked the same questions you would get a similar answer: “Pretty all true.”

Yet unlike Olivia’s fellow students who are, apparently familiar with and quite amused by Olivia’s propensity to tell tall, yet entertaining tales, our friends’ social media posts sometimes make us feel a bit “less than,” even if we DID have a fun, albeit less glamorous summer.

We may not have had the opportunity to hop on a jet and fly to Paris for the weekend, for example, or we may not have enough airplane mileage points or credit card points banked to whisk the family off to Hawaii for a week of sun, fun, and the requisite round of golf.

At the end of the day, it’s best to be thankful for the little things, like taking a sailboat ride with your child or spending the weekend at Galveston Island– about an hour’s drive from Houston, where I live, or even enjoying a Staycation at home alongside the pool in your own backyard.

Make your own memories and stories about the time you spend with your loved ones. Be like Olivia who, at the end of the book is caught jumping on her bed after lights out by her mother.  

“OLIVIA, I said ‘no jumping!  Who do you think you are, Queen of the Trampoline?”

After her mother closes the door, Olivia, now lying on her bed under her photograph of Eleanor Roosevelt, thinks to herself, “Maybe.”

Did I surf the waves off Ponto State Beachor snorkel with Leopard Sharks?  Did I canoe down the South Fork of the Guadalupe, carrying my canoe across the shallow areas and skillfully navigating the rapids? Did I meet and drink wine with a famous artist? Maybe!

Did I have a wonderful time traveling to new places, seeing new things, and trying new foods and wines with my family? Absolutely!

May we all have bit of Olivia in ourselves as the summer winds to a close.  

Reference:  Falconer, Ian. Olivia Saves the Circus. Atheneum: New York, 2001.

Paul Simon’s Homeward Bound-Farewell Concert Tour Was All That I Imagined and More

Paul Simon live at the Frank Erwin Center in Austin, TX on June 4, 2018.

It’s been a long time since I went to a concert – longer than I care to admit in a public forum, anyway.  My daughter, who is in college now, is a veritable expert on the Austin music scene and goes to shows on a regular basis, everything from small club venues to the annual ACL, Austin City Limits Music Festival.

You can imagine how thrilled and delighted  I was, then, when earlier in the spring she asked me if I wanted to go see Paul Simon in concert with her.

I was also a little surprised.  I have listened to and loved the music of Paul Simon for as long as  I can remember; in fact, I associate specific songs with specific events and periods of my life,  but my daughter has only recently started listening to his music.

After some negotiating with my husband over travel arrangements and ticket prices (“Why can’t you just see Paul Simon in concert in Houston on the Saturday before?  Why do you have to see him in Austin?” Answer:  “Better venue, better crowd.”) I managed to score two floor seats for the concert at the Frank Erwin Center in Austin on June 5th.  I have to say it was worth every penny and an experience with my daughter that I will never forget.

First of all, the venue was great.  The Frank L. Erwin Center, which doubles as a college basketball arena and a concert venue, is smaller than the Toyota Center here in Houston and much smaller than a stadium venue.

Second, the people were great.  Everyone we encountered – from the security staff to the beer vendors to the ushers – was nice and willing to help.  (That meant a lot to me as, at the time, I was still in a walking cast which covered my left leg from knee to toe.)  I had no trouble at all getting down to the lower floor to enter the area where the floor seats were placed,  finding my seats, and getting seated.

The crowd was a mixture of all ages, everyone from Millenials to Generation X’ers to Baby Boomers – all of whom were there to listen to good music and enjoy themselves.  I can’t remember a friendlier crowd. No one on our row complained about having to get up and make room for the Bride of Frankenstein.  In fact, we had a chance to chat with the people just to our right before the concert started, and I was amazed at how much we had in common!

Of course, these matters paled in comparison to the consumate professional performance of Mr. Simon and his assembled back up singers and musicians.

At 76, Paul Simon still has it.  Unlike some other singers his age whose voices have lost their vitality and lustre (shout out to you, Sir Paul McCartney), Simon sounds just as good as his earliest recordings, and he seems as one with his guitar.  He knows just how to read a room and work a crowd, too.  At one point early in the performance, he held his arms out wide and said, “Hello, friends!”  and every one of us sitting or standing in that room felt as if each of us was, truly, his friend.

My daughter and I reviewed Simon’s set list from previous locales on the tour to get an idea of what to expect and to see if our favorite songs would be performed.  We had no need to worry.  Simon did not disappoint.

Simon is often referred to as “America’s greatest living songwriter”; the only man who bests him in that category is Willie Nelson, but comparing the two is like comparing peaches and nectarines.  Both artists cover a wide variety of genres and write lyrics that can take the listener to the highest highs or the lowest lows.  Simon  chose  much-loved songs from throughout his canon, a selection that offered something for everybody.  He opened the concert with  “America,” and ended – quite appropriately – with “The Sound of Silence.”

Between songs, Simon chatted with the crowd, shared anecdotes, and explained the inspiration for some of his music.  He recalled, for instance, the circumstances that led to his writing “Rene and Georgette Magritte With Their Dog After the War.”   Simon explained that he had been waiting for Joan Baez at her apartment – they were to rehearse for a performance later that day – when he saw a coffee table book on Magritte.  Inside, he found an iconic black and white photo of Rene and Georgette Magritte walking their dog.  The photo inspired him to write a song about the pair.  While he was speaking, a reproduction of the black and white photo was displayed on the screen behind him.  Hearing the song in context made all the difference.  It truly struck a chord with me that night.

After Simon and his band sang the final encore, “Sound of Silence,” and left the stage, the facility lights came up and everyone realized it was time to go home.  I left not with a heavy heart, but instead a heart filled with joy.

Simon told us that he plans to retire from touring on the road – hence the concert tour title Homeward Bound – the Farewell Concert Tour.  He certainly deserves it.  Whether I get another chance to see him perform live or not, I can’t image it could ever top the memory of seeing him on stage that night and having that experience with my daughter by my side.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It Was a Dark and Stormy Night

It was a dark and stormy night.

My husband, my daughter, and I were spending our last night in Nashville, the last leg of a trip to the Smokies and to my husband’s hometown of Knoxville. After reading about local restaurants and hot spots in a publication provided in our room at the Hermitage, I decided we should have supper at the renowned Loveless Café. It sounded a lot like an Austin favorite of mine, Threadgills, and I was in the mood for comfort food.

My husband was a bit skeptical; he had never heard of Loveless Café and wasn’t crazy about making the 37-39 minute drive in the dark to get there. Plus, it was late; he and our daughter had spent the day at the Country Music Hall of Fame, and he thought it would be best just to try a restaurant within walking distance of the hotel. According to the article I had read, Loveless Café was a pretty amazing place, so I persevered. In the end, he agreed and off we went.

It had started to rain by the time we got downstairs and picked up our rental from the valet, but we weren’t especially worried about the weather at that point. In fact, when I saw a cigar store in a strip center on the way, I insisted we stop and that my husband go in and see about a getting a good stogie, which he did. We figured we had plenty of time to get to the restaurant.

It wasn’t until we left the bright lights of the city and the lightning intensified that my husband started to question whether or not the food at “this place” was worth the drive. The tires on our rental, we realized, were in dire need of replacement, and the lightweight Nissan Rogue was proving difficult to keep on the road, much less in a designated lane.

“This place better be really good,” my husband grumbled, his fingers tightly wrapped around the steering wheel.

“I’m sure it will be,” I said, “and I know that you will get us there safe and sound.”

“Maybe it will even be open by the time we get there,” he replied with an edge of sarcasm in his voice.

Flashback to scenes from Psycho

We drove on through the storm; finally, we saw the restaurant’s 1950s era blue sign, with the words picked out in pink and green neon. With the exception of the color of the neon, it looked exactly like the Bates Motel sign from Psycho.

The resemblance did not end there. The pictures on the restaurant’s home page do not convey the creepiness of the place on a stormy night. Loveless Café was once a motel with a layout similar to the Bates Motel and other travel court motels of the era.

The restaurant sits where the original office would have been, and the original motel rooms flank the restaurant in adjacent lines on the left and right. That night, their dark windows looked forbidding. Just to reassure myself that Loveless Café had no skeletons in its closet, I looked up and to the left for a rundown two story Victorian mansion.

I didn’t see anything looming in the distance, but I still felt much like Janet Leigh as she checked in the Bates Motel as I got out of the car with my daughter and entered the restaurant while my husband parked the car.

Warm, welcoming interior, cheerful and friendly staff

My fears were further allayed by the cheerful, brightly lit lobby of the restaurant with its green wood plank walls covered in framed photographs, polished wood floors, and old fashioned hostess stand. It provided a welcome respite from the stormy night outside. We walked up to the old fashioned hostess stand, which included a display of Loveless Café items for sale, and were greeted by a friendly young woman who asked for the number of people in our party before picking up three menus and leading us into the main dining area.

My daughter and I took our places at a table for four covered in a red and white checked oilcloth and looked around at the paintings and framed photos on the walls. I had told the hostess that my husband wouldn’t be hard to miss, since he is 6’7” and, sure enough, a few minutes later, she escorted him with a smile to our table.

got biscuits?

While we perused the supper menu, our server brought us a plate of warm biscuits, plenty of butter, homemade preserves, and honey before taking our drink orders: iced tea for me, sweet tea for my husband, and a Coke for our daughter who refuses to drink iced tea in any form.

After we laughed at the salad options listed on the menu (after all, who goes to a place like Loveless Café to eat healthy?) my husband opted for the Loveless Fried Chicken, mashed potatoes, and fried okra; I ordered the Country Fried Steak with cream gravy, mashed potatoes, and green beans. Our daughter, ever the picky eater, ordered her two mainstays: chicken fingers and macaroni and cheese.

Our supper soon arrived piping hot; the portions were more than generous. This was not our hometown mainstay, the Luby’s LuAnn Plate: one piece of chicken (white or dark), two sides, and a roll. No – I was faced with a chicken fried steak twice the span of my hand and fingers. My husband was served HALF a chicken. And the food was delicious.

A word about the importance of iced tea

 The iced tea was fresh and perfectly brewed, too. If you didn’t grow up in the south, you may not appreciate the value of a freshly brewed glass of iced tea. Few things in life are more refreshing on a hot day, whether you have just come in from mowing the yard or are enjoying dinner or supper with family and friends.

I learned that all glasses of iced tea are not created equal after living in Minnesota for four years. All too often, I would order iced tea only to be served a cloudy dark tea colored liquid that tasted god-awful. You couldn’t get Coca Cola, either. If you ordered a Coke, you were often told, “We only serve Pepsi.” For some reason, the natives preferred the syrupy, too sweet alternative. Plus, people looked at you funny if you asked for a Coke instead of a “soda” or a “pop.”

Dessert? Yes, please!

 By the time we finished our meal, it was near closing time, so we ordered dessert to go. Loveless Café offers diners an array of southern favorites: Chess Pie, Chocolate Chess Pie, Fudge Pie, Coconut Pie, Pecan Pie, and Banana Pudding (listed as “Puddin’” on the menu). I opted for Banana Puddin’ and my husband chose his favorite, Coconut Pie, after confirming it was Coconut Cream Pie, not Coconut Meringue Pie.

When we left the restaurant, the rain had stopped, so we had a much quicker and less harrowing drive back to our hotel, where we polished off the desserts – having no in-room refrigerator, we were compelled to eat them lest they spoil.

The next day, we flew back to Houston, but not before I bought myself a hot pink “got biscuits?” t-shirt from the hotel gift shop. I love my Loveless Café t-shirt; it’s now eight years old and going strong. Every time I wear it, people always ask me where I got it.

If you are ever in Nashville, take my advice and head on out to Loveless Café. You’ll be glad you did!