Monday, August 15.2011

When In Rome

I was chatting with my friend Anne today. I am always so pleased to catch up with her. We have been friends for years like, twenty-five years I think. We are very sympathetic. We understand one another. We met back in the 1980′s working for a now defunct major retailer of antique reproductions. I am always struck by her correctness and carriage. She has the discipline. Except for the slightest thickening in the waist, she still enjoys the figure she sported in bikinis at that time.

Anne and I are realists. We speak very bluntly. Anne and I  have similar antecedents, although her immediate are a bit grander than mine at the present.  You know coats of arms hanging on the gate clanking in the wind, which is very appropriate as both our families have had a glorious past, shaky present and uncertain future. I know that the glory days are probably behind me. As another good friend in Cartersville once said to me, “Michael, you and I are  members of the best this area has to offer and no one knows this because we are dead or dying out!” When my sister, Michele and I were little and Mother was still giving teas we were instructed: “If anyone asks if you are related to those Biddys in Cartersville, you are to say NO!”  Michele and I had such a limited knowledge of Daddy’s family beyond a few Aunts and Uncles we adored,  that we found it great fun to answer yes to the astonished questioners. We were related to those Cartersville Biddys! Being raised as young ladies and gentleman, doesn’t that sound archaic now, our answers were not held against us. Well my friend Anne was of this and so much more.

She was an equestrian. She attended the best private schools and her older brother held dances  in his ballroom.  Her Mother and Daddy had remarried in their forties and had Anne very un-expectantly. They divorced when she was seven and she was raised primarily by her Mother and her older half siblings. Parties and ponies and balls were a large part of her early years. Her Mother, Big Momma’s first husbands family had brought motion pictures to northwest Georgia and Tennessee.  It was a glamorous time for her seeing all the autographed photos from various premieres and attending some herself when a pre teen in New York . Her half-brother, Lionel, was heir apparent to this movie empire.

Lionel  moved in with his Grandfather when he was eight. Grandfather had been a part of this Theater building with his Father. Lionel had/ has a sixth sense about who is who and what is what and even at this young age knew his place was in his Grandfather’s house. Lionel, Big Momma, Anne’s Mother, also knew this. He sat at his grandfather’s table and learned everything he needed to know to be a favorite. That big house with the ballroom was where Lionel was destined to be. He learned all the intrigue and politics of the business. He learned who was who and what was what, both in the movie industry and the family itself. Lionel was beautifully mannered, well spoken and charmed almost everyone he met, especially widowed lonely Grandfather.  Grandfather had one spinster daughter that also lived in that grand house, but she was forever worried about his drinking, his cigars, his monthly card game  and the young lady that came twice a week to teach Lionel piano.

When the time came , after much fighting and sibling rivalry among Grandfather’s children, Lionel inherited the controlling interest in the family firm and the house with the fabled ballroom. There was a great deal of hatred and jealousy  toward him. Anne told me he gained complete control in the late sixties and as we all know things were changing then, especially with the movies. It was difficult to remain profitable. The movie industry had been in flux for some time. At one time there had been a large income to divide among the various family members, but this was beginning to diminish. There wasn’t a lot of money left. Someone would have to get a job.

When I met Anne in the early 1980′s, the firm was gone. Lionel had used his sensibilities and taste tp start a highly successful interior design business. The family that remained were bitter. They had brought a multi million dollar law suit against Lionel for embezzlement of company funds. They were suffering in their diminshed lifestyles. He was enjoying what he does best, creating the most tasteful environments for clients to enjoy. He wasn’t happier. The 1980′s was a very excessive period. It was always some corporate buyout and leveraging some business for personal gain. The drama has always high. I always thought of Dynasty when Anne would tell me the latest saga in her brother’s life. The latest motion filed and the cocaine addicted attorneys that Lionel was being duped by. Anne was always immaculately turned out and so correct. We would “slum”and drink Perrier Jouet from the bottle. She was glamorous, still is.  Nothing could possibly go wrong for them. You must imagine my surprise in the early 1990′s when her brother was convicted and sent to prison.

We were living together at the time. She was staying in the spare bedroom of my townhouse. She was between houses and an evening turned into a little more than a year. It was a life change for her. Her life somehow reflected her brother’s. I didn’t understand it then, but now I do. 

Anne corresponded with Lionel religiously. He was in a maximum security prison. I could not imagine what he was experiencing. I had met him only once when he was liquidating the family house with the ballroom. Anne in her degage’ way had mentioned going to visit him. When we pulled into the back garden there was a frenzy of activity. Sugar Blond society matrons, extra men and hispanic servants were dispensing with generations of accumulation. I could not believe the beauty and decadence of what I was witnessing. These epic rooms were mostly stripped but all in some form of dishabille were like a movie set. The front hall with its seeming miles of hand blocked wallpaper from France to the storied ballroom with photographs of Lionel and his Mother in formal wear still  displayed on the Louis XV plat desk. I always thought of Lionel as blond, slim and tall; he was actually very small. He was somewhat round, balding and bespectacled. He did  have a sexy mischievous way about him though and I certainly fell for his charm. “Anne tells me you like books. Go upstairs and take whatever you like”, he said this with a twinkle in his eye.  Anne said let’s see what you want. Somehow in this tragedy he could still make me feel like an important guest. Anne and I  went up this grand staircase into an equally epic master bedroom. He had a beveled plated glass mirror behind the chinoiserie upholstered headboard. It was at least 12 feet tall. The books in the magnificent built-in were 1920′s -1940′s vintage mostly. Leather bound histories, Biographies, and Harvard classics. We loaded about 150 of them into my car and followed Lionel and his best friend Paul to Big Momma’s house.

Once we were there we all came into the living room. Big Momma began to ask questions of Lionel, like did you get what you wanted and did anyone come by while you were emptying out the house. As I sat there I realized he had left a King’s ransom in antiques to be confiscated. The sheriff was coming to seize the contents the next day. All the China we had tossed onto the floor boards of our cars had been Limoges, Royal Crown Derby, Cartier, etc.  I was struck by the comme il faut nature of it all. No pity. No accusations. This is the way we live now, so to speak.

Anne shared with  me some of the stories of Lionel’s incarceration. The ladies that made the pilgrimage to get their Pratt and Lambert colours  approved through a bullet proof glass. The interpretation skills of Lionel in negotiating for the hispanic prisoners. His joie de vivre in spite of it all. He was/ is an inspiration to me.

Now, many years later , that he has been released and is more succesful than ever, even in this economy. He and Anne have never let the flag droop, but less waver(Paris Hiltons of the world take notice) and still run the most chic  residence in Northwest Georgia. When Big Momma died a few years ago 300 people showed up to give condolence, but mostly to see their fabled house.  I always say I am talented but Anne and Lionel have the last word.

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Monday. June, 27 2011

Bigfoot, Aliens and Ghostly Encounters

It seems to me that in the last few years there have been a lot of television programs about rumored creatures from folklore, spirits from the deathly realm and u.f.o’s from planets yet uncharted. Scientific methods are employed to find the Bigfoots and other rumored creatures of the wilderness. Paranormal explorers are on every channel taking time out of their busy days fixing drains or from studying for their college exams to try to determine if the haunt site has validity. Retired service men have some stories to share with you about what they were forced to conceal while serving out on  lonely desert bases. Wow I hardly know which one to choose because sometimes they show simultaneously on different channels. I want to view them all!

For most of these shows I am a fan; I must admit to this. It was instilled into me at an early age by the old show “In Search Of…” Does anyone remember this? If not here is a link http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3z0S2zPNP6s. It came on late Saturday afternoons. It was so interesting and creepy. The show focused on many subjects ranging from Amelia Earhart to Atlantis. I was only eleven at the time and I had never heard of these creatures or places. It was a new strange world opening for me. As I ‘ve aged I experience this newness less and less.  My cousin Ricky, and only real male friend of my youth, shared this same interest in the supernatural.

Ricky was only six months older than me but one school year ahead. He was the oldest grandchild and seemed to excel in every way. Being on the maternal side of the family and being the oldest son of the oldest son, he was  particularly special in Papa’s eyes. Ricky was the heir to all things Cox. During the Summer Ricky and I would spend the night at each others houses and at our Grandparents house in Atlanta.  When we were at Mama and Papa’s house we could read from Mama’s extensive stack of National Enquirer magazines. These often featured stories and headlines about  sensational beings or creatures. I still remember one announcing on the front page, UFOs WILL CONTACT EARTH IN SIX MONTHS! We saw this issue on a crisp Fall afternoon one Sunday. We could not believe that Mama had casually mixed it in with the Atlanta Journal and back issues of Ladies Home Journal. For us, this was a major piece of news!

Our families had gathered at my grandparents house for Sunday dinner. I still remember that day all these years later. There was the excited anticipation between all the children, the holidays were just around the corner. It was mid October. Once Halloween came and went it was a quick down hill slide to Thanksgiving and Christmas.  Ricky and I did not join in; we were more excited about the contact that might be coming in six months. Let  the younger ones begin the pre-Christmas chatter.

After dinner my cousin and  I slipped away from the family and went out to the front porch to discuss the sensational article. No one would bother us out there. After Labor Day the porch was  neglected. Among the fading begonias and gathering dust, we could discuss our separate views of this announcement without any younger siblings giving their opinions. This was a subject not to be taken lightly.

The National Enquirer  had never printed an actual date of contact! We asked one another, Could it be true?. Who will they contact? I cannot remember the particulars of the article now but it was provocative to us then. It was a subject that we shared and enjoyed. That bond between us was unique for me. He treated me as an equal at a time I didn’t often feel that way. I was overweight and not particularly popular at school or home. Like most kids at one time or other I never felt I belonged. This new world of Bigfoot and aliens and later hauntings gave me something that I had in common with other boys. I might not play baseball or football but I knew a lot about this stuff and could speak confidently about it. It allowed me to fit it.

So many years later I still enjoy watching the shows on television. Does Ricky? The years have separated us in  its usual ways, but whether I am watching  some lesser known celebrity over emote their ghost story or a group of pseudo scientists on discovery channel hunting for Bigfoot.;it brings back memories . Memories of days spent lying on my stomach reading those inane stories in papa’s den or watching “In search of” with my family on a Saturday afternoon in our own. I suppose that mostly it helped me begin to discover self-esteem.

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Friday, June 17, 2011

Belle Grove Plantation, Middletown, Virginia

The above picture is the facade of Belle Grove Plantation’s manor house. I have been a docent here giving house tours for about two months. Belle Grove was completed in 1797 by Major Issac Hite and is located in Middletown,  Virginia.  The house is listed on the National Register and is apart of the Historic Trust. Here is the link:http://www.bellegrove.org/index.php.

Looking across the lawns at Longfield , Danielle and John's wedding

I am not going to get into the history; you can research that yourself. I am going to tell you that the serenity and beauty will soothe you. It has, at any rate, helped me  be less homesick for northwestern Georgia and my family farm, Longfield.  My new best friend Vickie Mae Puckett, I know we are somehow related as my great-grandmother was a Puckett with family ties in Virginia, got me involved with this historic house. Last Summer she gave Scott and I a behind the scenes tour and  I completely fell in love with the house. It is beautifully situated on a slight knoll overlooking the landscape. The house was completed in 1797 in what was still  frontier area of our budding nation. Belle Grove is at once elegant and simple.

I approached Vickie in January about volunteering and she sponsored me in February. I have been giving house tours  for the last two months. I love being the host for however few hours to visitors seeing this beautiful property. I always hoped my family farm in Georgia would convey this feeling to guests. I think at times it did. I was always so proud of our house and grounds there and  enjoyed the  times I was able to welcome people to it, even if my parents were rather reluctant.

When I was thirteen years old after some years of looking my parents bought 27 acres of property in Bartow County Georgia. They had decided to become poultry farmers. Actually the poultry farm was Daddy’s idea. Mother really never wanted any part of it though it fell to her to run it. Despite her unhappiness at doing so , Mother consistently won awards for the quality of chicken she “raised.”The land they purchased was in an area known as Old Cass Station. There are some railroad tracks near the property and in antebellum times there was a train station there. This is where passengers would disembark for Cassville, Georgia in those days a sizeable town and destination. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cassville,_Georgia After my parents purchased the property my maternal grandparents came up for a visit. We were shocked to learn that my parents purchase were part of an original 2000 acre estate owned by my Grandfather, Papa’s family.

As with most families, after the matriarch Grandmother Cox died, there were some hurt feelings over inheritances and final wishes. This resulted in my Grandfather and his siblings to be estranged for over 20 years. Someone I know once remarked to me at a funeral,”Death should bring us together but it usually pulls us apart.”  I was a very young man then, grieving at my own Grandmother’s funeral and didn’t completely understand what she meant. Now I do. It was incomprehensible to me, at the age of  thirteen,that  my Mother had never been to this old home place of Papa’s. Later after I aged and began to experience more  death and the resulting aftermath I began to understand  my friend’s comment and why Mother was unfamiliar with this beautiful property and why I am now becoming a stranger to it as well.

The view to the left is from Belle Grove Looking  out over the lawns and pastures. When I am waiting for visitors between tours and stand in the front hall, I feel for a moment  what many previous owners must have felt here, a sense of belonging. It may be fleeting but in my own small way I am fortunate to be a part of this place as I was at Longfield.

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Tuesday, June 14 2011

After ejecting a shoplifter from Brooks Brothers, I made it back from Queenstown in one piece. I was so happy to be back. Three days to do whatever I liked upon my return. I decided to do what I currently love doing best, cooking. Dinner at home with friends, to me, is the best form of entertainment. I think to share a meal around a table with good conversation is about as good as it gets.

What do you like to cook? Lately, I have been getting back to my roots preparing dishes from my native Deep South. The hospitality my Mother and Grandmother always showed family, friends and visitors alike, well there is nothing like it. Good food is the foundation but an actual love of entertaining people is the key. Whether served on heirloom china in a chandeliered dining room or enjoyed huddled over a kitchen table, if the host or hostess is congenial then it is an event.

Scott and I asked a few people, six actually, for a supper of Deviled Eggs, Skewered Beef, Black Bean Soup, Fried Chicken, Baked Virginia Ham, Biscuits, Crackling Cornbread, Squash Casserole, Macaroni and Cheese, Rice and Gravy, Turnip Greens and Green Beans.  Dessert was a bold departure from the usual Banana Pudding , Blanc Mange or Chocolate Cake. I was perusing the James Beard website and saw an article on a chef from Alabama, Joshua Quick. He cooks at the 360 Grille at Marriott Shoals Hotel & Spa in Florence, Alabama. Well he concocted this odd dessert of Blueberry Sponge Cake and topped it with a Strawberry and Jalapeno Jelly.Then he paired it with a Buttermilk Ice cream drizzled with a Strawberry-Apple Gastrique. I was intrigued by this and started to look for the recipes. There were none. Thank God for google. The Strawberry sponge cake wasn’t difficult , neither was the buttermilk ice cream. As I am sure you figured, the Strawberry-Jalapeno Jelly receipe was not to be found. I did, however, find gastrique recipes.

How many of you have ever heard of gastriques? I never had until I ran across Mr. Quick’s dessert, but there is an entire repertoire of them. For those who are not familiar with gastriques here is the definition: Gastrique is a reduction of vinegar and sugar brought to light caramelization, to which a little fond (stock) is added. It is a base to which many other ingredients, or just a few, can be added to form a sauce. It is generally used to create a sweet and sour sauce; one of the classics being orange sauce for duck (à l’orange). Mine had sliced strawberries, balsamic vinegar, orange juice concentrate, garlic, sugar, and butter.

The Strawberry-Jalapeno Jelly I had to really think about. The idea of congealed bits of hot crunchy jalapeno suspended with strawberries in Jello, well it grossed me out. The Christmas congealed salads of my childhood are a nightmarish memory of green jello with mystery food caught up inside and I did not want to relive that or put my dinner guest in the awkward position to eat it. I decided to roast hulled strawberries and finely chopped jalapeno. First they were tossed in virgin olive oil and balsamic vinegar and heavily dusted in granulated sugar. Roasting  at 400 degrees deepened the flavors and created a rich syrup. After cooling, strawberry preserves were heated  in a saucepan. When they began to simmer I added the roasted strawberries, jalapeno and their gooey syrup. After heating these through, it all went into the refrigerator to thicken. Do you want to know what? EVERYONE raved over it! The cake was light and flavorful. Beleive it or not the strawberry-jalapeno sauce made it sweeter . The mellowed peppers gave a slight kick at the end of the palate. The buttermilk ice cream was rich and tangy and again the garlic and vinegar in the gastric rounded out the flavors nicely. Scott loved it and he is very picky. I enjoyed preparing something that evoked my home and yet was completely new. Thank you Mr. Quick.

 

 

 

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Thursday. June 2,2011

This is the view from my room in the Holiday Inn Express. It is the only redeeming quality of my stay here. I was looking at this upon my return late this afternoon from Brooks Brothers , as I watched the herons lope by and the cord grass wave in the breeze my mind wandered into the den of my Grandmother’s house in Atlanta. “Mama”, as we called her, had a rather large provincial style urn that rested on the hearth of the fireplace and in it she had arranged a mass of sea oats. She was always chic. Everything she touched with her immaculately manicured hands spotted with age and silky smooth with a delicate scent of lotion,always looked effortless yet perfect in their arrangements. Mama always had a quiet way of accomplishing her tasks whether they be artistic or of the mundane variety.  She never made a big deal out of anything she did. She did these things, I suppose ,to please herself and in so doing pleased us as well.

When my Sister Michele was sixteen years old she took a cruise with a lot of our classmates from school. I didn’t want to go but Michele has that get up and go gene that seems to pass among the women in our family. My Grandmother and Mother decided that she must have a different outfit to wear every evening of the cruise. Of course this is the way people used to dress for dinner in my Mother’s younger lifetime and in Mama’s lifetime. My Grandparents traveled a few times rather extensively in Europe on their honeymoon spending almost a week in Mussolini’s Italy. While there they took a gorgeous panoramic shot of the coliseum which I have today. My sisters have the clanky charmed studded bracelets Mama brought back and at time wore in profusion on her wrists. Twenty years later on their anniversary my Grandparents returned to the places visited on the first journey. When they arrived for a three nights stay in Rome my Grandmother said all the charm was missing. There was so much electricity in the air before with Mussolini that years later on their second visit she found it poor and dirty. Luckily for me, Papa took another photo of the coliseum and I have that one too. On their honeymoon Mama always wore Evening in Paris. She said she thought it was the best smelling perfume she had known up to that time,later she decided it was Shalimar with White Shoulders running a close second.So when Michele decided to go on her first cruise Mama, in a nostalgic mood and Mother got busy planning her evening attire.

 

She would have five nights at sea lazily sailing on the Caribbean with one night at the Captain’s table. My Grandfather, Papa, was calling in a favor for that invitation. I don’t remember all the out fits but two come to mind. One was  a red and black taffeta plaid number with lug o’ mutton sleeves and a cocktail length skirt . The other ensemble consisted of a long full pink taffeta skirt with attached cumberbund and a pink pastel printed chiffon blouse that buttoned to the neck . One demure and one a bit more sexy. All the women in my Mother’s family could sew and they decided to make  these dresses.

They worked for many evenings and hours. They fitted a sometime petulant sister and pulled open seams and adjusted and even took apart an old pearl choker of my great grandmother’s for buttons on the chiffon blouse. She was ready for than a Carnival Cruise line. Actually looking back on it she was more properly attired for the QE2.

Michele loved her time on the ship. She took many photos. After they were developed Mother was looking at them and became alarmed. I knew what she was angry about as I had already seen them. The night Michele and her friends dined with the captain she wasn’t wearing her demure pink chiffon and taffeta. No, she was in a tight white micro mini jean skirt with red satin camisole and matching white denim bolero jacket! Michele told me that she wore some of the dresses but that she received so many looks from the other passengers and crew members that she ditched them after the second night and went shopping in the duty-free shop.

 

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Tuesday, May 31 st

So this is my first entry into a Blog. I am surprised that I am feeling a little “stage-struck” I have often thought of writing a blog and now that I have sat down at the keyboard and started , I am feeling blank!
Well tomorrow I go and appear as a guest starring manager for a Brooks Brothers Outlet store in Queenstown Maryland. I am not at all looking forward to this. Like many others I lost my last position in the economic chaos of the last few years. I was a Territory Manager for ,what I later discovered was floundering, German Fabric manufacturer. Since the lay off a little over a year ago I have had w, without much luck, three interviews. Luckily I was able to get a job at a greatly reduced salary as an assistant manager at Brooks Brothers Factory Store
I have been with Brooks Brothers almost a year.The store has approximately 15 employees. We range the scale of old to young and most skin colors and socio-economic backgrounds. It is a melange of peoples.Surprisingly most of the staff has been working there for a number of years. Being a retail position no one except the store manager makes a living wage, yet there are a number of people eking out an existence there.

Lately a lot of the managers in our division have been leaving the company. It seems that Brooks Brothers is changing in a way that they do not approve. I am not sure what that way is but I understand that is the reason. Since the company does not make very fast hiring decisions,  my position was vacant for over six months, all the stores in the division are sending a management person over for a week to help operate the store. I was chosen to represent my store.

I wonder what the new store will be like? Will they have a staff as diverse as ours? If they are multi-cultural will they speak with one another in their native tongues as ours do? Will I find myself trying to determine if they are speaking about me as I do in my store? Will we have busloads of Chinese visitors that bark in Chinese and pull every item off the shelves into the floor? Will rude customers return their worn-out and often soiled clothing as often as they do at our store? So many questions, I suppose you can tell I am not that interested in the answers! I am interested in using this week to get back into a fitness routine. In my last job I traveled a lot and often worked out in the hotel gyms. It really helped me keep my waist in line, so to speak!

So this is a sort of warm up and I am going to continue this more and get better at it.

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