Just ten years ago.

If I thought the last year went fast. Well, the last ten have gone by in a whoosh. All those cliches about time healing -- they're pretty true. Mostly. Maybe not healing. Softening might be better.

On Monday, October 28, 1996. 4:55 pm
I got the 5 minute phone call that changed my life.

My nephew call me at work.
Why would he be calling me at work. At 5 o'clock?
He was calling to ask if I knew anything about the accident that put his dad, my brother, Tom, in the hospital. I knew nothing. But, boy, would it all be revealed.
Here's a recollection from 1999:

Today. Perfect. Weather wise. The kind of day that makes Minnesota worth sticking with. Perfect light. Trees glowing. Ground covered with leaves. Made certain spots luminous with light. Oh, to be able to capture it with a camera.
- Three years ago this week, my brother was lying in Ramsey {now Regions} Hospital, Intensive care, dying.
Now, a full ten years later, it's not any easier to write about it, or to think about it.


Tom's life was intense and hard -- so far from perfect. Filled with work and working out problems. Divorce problems. Money problems. Caring for his boys, filled with exuberance and energy. Trying to always do the right thing. Trying to get ahead, but never quite making it. Dying, for Tom, was just as hard as the living.

A beautiful fall day in Minnesota. Working outside. Energetically clamboring up the scaffold to help a buddy. Forgetting safety first. One misstep. A fall. A second to wonder what happened.

Ipsis, Domine, et omnibus in Christo quiescentibus, locum refrigerii, lucis et pacis, ut indulgeas, deprecamur. Per eumdem Christum Dominum nostrum. Amen.
To these, O Lord, and to all who rest in Christ, grant, we pray thee, a place of refreshment, of light and of peace. . .

As The Feast of All Saints (November 1) and All Soul's Day (November 2) approach, let us remember those who have gone before us and sleep the sleep of peace.

Listening to: The Chieftains

Just last year.

Saturday 9:27 pm
40 degrees
Cloudy





Hey, Mambo. Mambo Italiano! Seems like it was just last week, not last year, that we were living la dolce vita con la nostra amica, Doris e il suo marito, Douglas, high in the Tuscan hills. {I probably got even that simple Italian phrase wrong, I've neglected the language for so long.}
Il Mulino is their little wonderland tucked between two hills high above Lucca in the little, and I mean little, town Tofori. Blink, and you miss it.

Doris left the rewarding and glamorous world of advertising, sold her house and in reverse immigration left for the Old Country. She's living her dream in the town where her mother was born. Post WWII, Doris' mother and two sisters left Italy and ended up in Milwaukee. Of all places. It's a long, long story, but Doris and The Husband bought an ancient property. Renovated it. And are now the Host and Hostess with the Mostest. You haven't vacationed in Italy unless you've been hosted by Doris.
If you don't believe me, head over and see for yourself. The best vacation ever! Il migliori di tutti!



Just a 20 minute terrifying drive away from Il Mulino is the town of Lucca. It's surrounded by an intact medieval wall with 6 gates. So. Like history? Check. Lucca's got it. Not to mention terrific food, terrific shopping {someone edited the best of Milan shops and put it on Via Fillungo} and beautiful people. Gorgeous men. Unfairly handsome.




Shopping. And resting. Mama Mia! She looks good for 88. And Rita, she looks so good the elderly gent in the photo below was flirting with her. Italians are friendly. Very friendly. Regardless of their age.





My new Italian friends. They were patient with me. "Parlo Italiano come una bambina!" Let's do it again. Real soon. It was a lovely time in a season that -- for our family -- is tinged with sadness. But more about that in another post.


Listening to: Jazz Image with Leigh Hammond on MPR.
Reading: The Devil in the White City.

Sailorz with Attitude

Tuesday
October 10
10:32 pm
48 degrees. Brrr.

MadgeWorld is often the purveyor of news of the latest tends and today is no exception. Check out these Sailorz w/ Attitude--or SWA as they're known to their peeps. Dig the cool custom bling. Nothing like chain link topped off with an image of Guam. Or the Almighty Dollar sign. And talk about attitude -- nothing, I mean nothing says we-are-tough-SOBs like cammo. Top it with the latest shade of brown T-shirt, and kick ass boots -- you've got a look that just won't quit. We predict a run on military surplus stores. Soon. Anchors Aweigh, my boyz.

That's my boy-o on the left.

Listening to: Wait till you see Him, Ella Fitzgerald

I heart Astoria

Photos of Queens, a great borough of NYC, were promised months ago. You'll never see the hairball the size of a shrunken head that was removed from Daughter's shower drain. Nor will you see the interior of the dorm room-squared-size apartment. Alas, Daughter has left Astoria. Home of Louis Armstrong. Birthplace of Tony Bennett. and the location of the best pizza in the New World. She's crossed over to the epicenter of hipness: Brooklyn.












But nevermind that. I still heart Astoria. Where people are comfortable with who they are. Italians. Greeks. Balkans. Russians. Hispanics. A big swirl of humanity with more exposed flesh than you ever want to see on both men and women. If your fashion quotient is low, you'll feel right at home here.

Astoria residents have all their bases covered: the sacred and the profane.














There are more front yard shrines per capita than anywhere else in the world. Except, perhaps Ireland or Italy. The Blessed Virgin, St. Anthony, St. Joseph, Jesus and other top 10 saints are smack dab out in the front yard next to the air conditioner or trash can. There's a comforting charm and unpretentiousness that I love about people who aren't afraid to let the neighborhood know just where they stand. Red State? Blue State? No. This is the Shrine State.








Then there's the flip side of faith. Every block has a psychic or tarot card reader. Trust in Jesus, or St. Joseph but just in case check out what Mrs. Rosa has to say.

Did I mention the food. Yes. Great food. Plenty of it. Greek. Italian. Even Balkan cuisine. Who knew the Balkans have a defined culinary tradition. My favorite low concept, high color restaurant was Mano's. For a mere $3.75 a cooked-to-order burger and large drink. Have a smoothie while you're at it. Papaya, of course. But other tropical flavors abound.




Next time you visit NYC -- venture out of Manhattan and explore Astoria. You may even see the size XXXL woman with her fanny pack fastened securely above her bosom. A booby pack, if you will. It's a whole new world and it's just a short subway ride away.

Enjoying: The usual toast and coffee.
Considering: a front-yard shrine. I'll consult Mrs. Rosa to ensure the time is right.