memoir

Bare Bones

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: Today’s jewelry post might seem familiar to some longstanding readers. You’d be right because the skull on this necklace is the mate to a ring I have had for about 8 years. At least I think I may have included it in a prior post (or not since I can’t find one) and I have mentioned Muriel Chastanet Jewelry in Los Angeles, a family business where wonderful jewelry can be found. You all know that in addition to antique cats, I am a woman who likes her jewelry.

While I don’t know the precise history or age of these skulls there is a Victorian tradition of memento mori bone skulls in jewelry. The Victorians were notoriously fascinated with the ultimate connection to death and the idea that we should mind that life is fleeting and can end abruptly, therefore we should make use of today. (Skulls and those made of yak bone in particular, were and are a popular Tibetan motif and I own some necklaces of carved skull bones from my trips there. They are distinct in their carving style, often made into what we might think of as rosaries and different as shown below.)

These Tibetan bone beads available on the internet.

The skull in this pendant and that of my ring are extremely similar, with the pendant being slightly larger and arguably more finely detailed. Different kinds of animal bones were used really as a visual substitute for ivory which was more expensive although still used at that time.

However the carving on both of these these is particularly fine and while many bone skulls labeled Victorian or Georgian are available, with a quick look just a few at auction have this much detail and are as nicely carved. The skulls are both in new settings. I saw the ring for sale about ten years ago now. At the time I didn’t think I was leading the sort of professional life where a large skull ring set in gold was appropriate. (At the time I advised older people on charitable gifts through their estate plans – a Victorian skull ring seemed a little pointed!)

When I left the Met a few years later to take the job at Jazz at Lincoln Center somehow it didn’t take long for the ring to roll back into my consciousness. I reached out and asked if by chance it was still available and Gizelle laughed and said that it was clearly meant for me and no one else. I wear it frequently and receive many compliments on it. The markings of the bone and the carving etched into my mind from staring at it day in and day out.

My much worn ring with a similar antique skull bead.

Fast forward a number of years. I always knew she had a couple of more of the skulls which could be set and the idea of a pendant nagged at me cheerfully for a bit and I finally told her I wanted it. For a number of reasons many things slowed the design and execution on both sides and it was about a year before it was completed and in hand.

Gizelle made the thoughtful suggestion that as my mother Betty had passed recently what would I think of including her initials in the design? That seemed very meaningful and as you can see there are intertwining B’s for Betty Butler in the back. (All of the photos are in antique boxes I have collected and are in no way connected with the skull pieces.)

The back with a double B for Betty Butler.

The skull is somewhat heavy, perhaps too much for a gold chain I decided and so thus far it is living on this silk cord quite happily. It will never be quite as intimately familiar to me as the ring since it lives on my neck and I don’t get to look at it daily the same way. I rarely wear them together (that is a lot of skull, let’s face it) although I sometimes I can’t resist. I have read that Victorian jewelry is becoming more popular and influencing current designers. I am ahead of the curve on that one I think and this one, with Mom’s initials tucked in, is most special to me indeed.

Ducks, Geese and Chickens

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: This photo postcard makes me think about my mother who loved ducks, geese and swans. Frankly she was less romantic about chickens which she grew up around although she bore them no ill will and being a vegan did not eat them nor their eggs. Mom did tell stories about her childhood and how they roosted in the neighbors trees and would occasionally torment her on her way to or from school.

It’s a pity this photo was poorly made, overexposed and with an odd sloppy line of poor printing at the bottom. (I have improved it some before sharing with you.) However my mom would have liked this card.

Those things notwithstanding, it is a compelling image and caught my eye online a week or so back and I purchased it for the house here in New Jersey. It is a photo postcard and was never used.

Photo of a photo of the house I grew up in.

As some readers know, I grew up in a house on an inlet of a river here, the Shrewsbury River. It was within walking distance of the ocean and as a result my childhood was full of time on the water – swimming in the ocean and walking the beach or crabbing off our dock or taking a rowboat out in the backyard. Mom’s nascent passion for animals first took the form of cats and dogs, strays and kittens that needed home.

However, later in life mom started feeding a flock of swans inhabiting the secluded inlet near our house. Then, slowly, she started helping out with an injured swan, goose or duck. Before long she was traveling to fetch a stranded pinioned one here or one that swallowed fishing line there. Betty became the go to for injured waterfowl for not just the surrounding counties but even in the surrounding states. Swans and geese that could not be released back into the wild were placed in areas in New York and New Jersey with appropriately large water bodies where food would be available and people would care for them.

A dahlia also on the hummingbird path of nectar.

Betty fought for these birds as well as other animals – helping to shut down puppy mills, purveyors of sick dogs. So many rescued bunnies found a home in our backyard that they were all so tame they would come right up to you if you sat out in the yard. I would come to New Jersey for a visit and the guest bathroom would be commandeered by a swan. Even at the same time, a rescued cat might be healing in an upstairs room. Somehow it all seemed quite natural at the time. Or at least it was our normal.

Strawberry plant currently on the deck which seems to be a happy stop for hummingbirds.

In her last years mom had a commanding view of the deck and the yard from the chair she spent virtually all her time in. It was planted for the explicit pleasure of birds, bees and butterflies. However, it wasn’t until after her death that I started spending time outside here and on the deck and began to realize how successful she was. Furry bees buzz busily everywhere, but especially early in the morning and evening. Hawks fly overhead, but sparrows, robins and a host of other birds amass. Bunnies of the more shy variety nibble greens in the yard – I think they and the chipmunks eat more heartily when unobserved, or so it seems from the consumption of my berries and veg.

Front of the NJ house earlier this week.

Most notably I never knew about the hummingbirds. I have loved the idea of them from the first I learned about them in sixth grade, but it was years before I saw one in person. I used to try to temp them to feeders with syrup water concoctions. It turns out that they love this yard! They appear to have a path from my dahlias, to a strawberry plant with bright red flowers and then to two Rose of Sharon trees (one white and one purple) that technically belong to my neighbor but hang heavily over my side of the fence. and amazingly enough, if I sit quietly on the porch long enough, one will pause en route, pausing, suspended in front of me in greeting.

Peaches

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: Today is an oddball post – I wish to introduce you all to Peaches, the second youngest, female cat of the New Jersey tribe of five. She’s also one of the meanest cats I have ever met. Perhaps considering her story she has some snark coming to her. I will let you decide.

Most readers know that in April of ’23 I inherited a house and five cats from my mother. At her behest, the cats continue to reside here where someone cares for them and the house when I am not here, as Deitch Studio in Manhattan is still our home base. This presents some logistical problems, but fewer than I might have expected when my mother first presented this request, as it became clear that her time was limited.

Shown here with Hobo, our outdoor visitor. They look so much alike! Seems impossible that they are related – Hobo lives too many miles away. But still…

For some background, my mother had briefly whittled her cat family down to something manageable a few years ago when she adopted, first, an all black kitten (Beauregard or Beau) from an agency in Newark, but then followed in rapid succession by two who came to the backdoor (Gus and Stormy) and Peaches whose story I am going to tell today. After the acquisition of Stormy (the youngest) I did request that she stop acquiring cats as it was clear that these were indeed going to end up being my cats.

Our holiday card featuring the whole family (including Hobo) for a quick cat reference.

Unlike the others who, as outlined above, either came through the front door via adoption or showed up repeatedly and starving at the back, Peaches was acquired sight unseen. My mother loved to tell the Peaches acquisition story.

Prized spot in our bedroom. Forbidden territory when the NYC cats are here.

At that time, now about three years ago, my mom had a cousin living with her. They had both grown up in a nearby town called Long Branch and her cousin inherited a house there, but lived with mom for a few years. Word was, back near her house in Long Branch, a friend heard a cat meowing over several days and had called Animal Control to find out what was going on and get the cat.

Seems somehow this cat had gotten away from the mother and the litter and was trapped in a basement after falling down a hole. Poor little thing was starving and crying.

Peaches does play with toys.

My mom knew that it was likely that a feral kitten would ultimately be put down as unadoptable. She called Animal Control in Long Branch as soon as the cat was picked up and told them not to put her down and that she would take it.

I guess the guy said, Lady, you don’t want this cat! It is the meanest cat we’ve ever had to catch. So wild we had to use a broom handle to move the carrier with her in it! And of course mom said she didn’t care and wanted the cat.

She very much enjoys watching the activity on the deck where chipmonks and other critters have been known to roam. Recently I found what I think were groundhog muddy tracks across it so quite a show.

She arrived and was christened Peaches for the woman who had heard her and called Animal Control originally. She entered our house at the time as the youngest and only female cat of the house. To my knowledge no one has ever actually touched Peaches since she came to Oxford Avenue. She hid at first and then slowly assimilated to the extent that she would hang with the pack of cats but keep a wide birth (six or more feet) from any human.

Left to her own devices (which she largely is) she seems quite content.

Over the past several years she has thawed slightly. She now willingly sit in the same room as us, sometimes quite close. When I am feeding them she will come right up to me but if I try to touch her or get too close where she is curled up she will hiss, spit and growl. On this trip however, she “accidentally” jumped up on the arm of my chair and stared me in the eye for several long moments before panic set in and she flew back off. I was as stunned as she was.

Milty and Peaches.

She has one outstanding cat friendship in the house, with Milty, our most senior cat. I will occasionally find them sleeping together. She’ll go over and gently groom him once in a while. It seems like an unlikely pairing, but I am pleased she has a compatriot among the cats.

This just the other day. Happy Peaches.

There have been days this summer when I have caught her rolling and stretching happily. I think she is a contented cat in general, even if her interactions with the human population are limited. I used to joke with my mother that in ten years when Peaches was happily installed on my lap being petted we would look back and remember how we couldn’t get near her. I am less sure of that future, but she’s one of the Butler family cats now to stay.

Labor Day

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: It feels like I just posted our arrival in New Jersey – and we do have at least another week here, but I can’t argue with the Fair Haven Fireman’s Fair which is a true harbinger of the end of summer here in Monmouth County. I like to remind Kim that I have been coming to the Fair since I was a tiny tot – winning goldfish was a great thrill but they did not have extreme longevity and Mom vetoed them in favor of a tank of tropical fish. (For more on that adventure of my childhood find a post here.)

We perched at some picnic tables to scarf down a soft serve.

I think there was a hiatus with my folks ignoring it and then I resumed in high school and college. By that time I was able to embrace all the rides, although I have no memory of any except maybe the Ferris Wheel. As Kim pointed out though, even from last year to this one there was an upgrade to the rides.

This one was Kim’s favorite!

This year Kim and I kicked off the evening with dinner a rather super Mexican restaurant and carrying our leftovers (food and drinks) made some of the more adventurous rides a bit hard to figure out. Also, long lines to buy digital tickets and then for the ride made it more of a commitment than I was ready to make. However, I did get ice cream (the recent oral surgery fiesta made cotton candy seem ill advised somehow) and we even ran into Mike, the guy who works on our garden – and worked on my mom’s for many years.

Dinner at Dos Banditos here in Fair Haven and just steps from the fair.

We enjoyed the wildly flashing and multi-colored lights and watched as youngsters and their parents tried to flip floppy frogs of rubber onto faux lily pads, or raced to squirt water or roll balls faster than their comrades. Participants strapped into to rise slowly in the air and then be spun around.

We especially liked watching this one slowly raise the people up before starting to turn.
A kiddie ride but we liked being under it.

Sadly, the prizes leave a lot to be desired. (Shown above – if they wanted to give me the knockdown doll I might have gone for that!) As someone who collects carnival prizes from the early 20th century these are a bit of an effrontery. Think of winning a Felix like the one below which I believe were prizes – or the chalkware we collect today – Felix, Mickey and others. I doubt that fake ET stuffed animals will be collectible in 2040, but we’ll see I guess.

Meanwhile, back at the house the dahlias are delightful. A storm the other night damaged some of them but luckily some quick staking and taping seems to have rescued them. (The second photo in the rotation is of a dahlia a friend gave me in memory of my mom and this first year it has bloomed beautifully!)

Bumper crop of cukes will likely really hit after we leave I am sorry to say.

The cucumbers were growing so aggressively that I added yet another trellis to see if I could keep them from choking everything around them with their little tentacles. As I pointed out in an earlier post (here) the bees adore the yellow flowers and buzz angrily at me when I try to work out there. I do wonder if the fall will bring cucumber galore for each of the flowers out right now.

A successful evening of bbq shown here.

As I write, I have cleaned off the grill in order to make some veggie burgers and maybe a few ears of corn tonight. Kim and I will take a walk to the grocery store – much more Manhattan than Monmouth County.

Cookie and Blackie adjusted more quickly this year. We put Cookie in Kim’s studio upstairs and kept Blackie’s base as our downstairs bedroom. I won’t say the New Jersey cats are thrilled with Blackie’s efforts to roam the entire house. He goes upstairs to bug Cookie periodically. Sometimes Beau follows and an explosion ensues.

Blackie visits the kitchen – cautiously!

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A hummingbird graces us with a long, slow drink at the flowers. Thanks to the flowers and flowering trees we are treated to them in numbers I have never seen locally. Another summer drawing to a close here in Jersey.

Backyard post grilling, about the hour the bats show up.

Vase

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: Sometimes where my nose leads me surprises even me so I assume it must occasionally raise an eyebrow for my readers. While I have many tributaries I pursue on a regular basis, sometimes I am gob smacked by something I didn’t see coming or ever really think about before. I assume in a time before the internet I would have found my odd bits at flea markets and antique stores that have been pushed out or disappeared.

Smidge of paint loss but nice!

However, Ebay, Instagram and Etsy are among the places I buy from now, but Instagram is the one most likely to surprise me with something I didn’t know I needed. I will be scrolling through my rather perfectly delightful feed curated to present me with cats, kittens, antique jewelry and clothes, some antique toys, ephemera and furniture.

The one I didn’t buy. Maybe still there if you have to have it!

Once in a bit something like this vase strikes me and I think, Huh. I don’t know why, but I really want that. There was another, larger, one with figures on it that was the one really being offered, but I could see half of this one is the same photo so I asked about it. I only just stopped short of buying both, but size and cost made me decide to control myself.

Peering in the top.

This vase is about 9 inches high and is ceramic with some tooth to it – bits of sand probably in the clay making it substantial and heavy. It appears to have been thrown on a wheel and then hand painted. Weirdly there is something about it which reminds me of the (admittedly much less impressive) pots I threw or hand built back in high school and college. I never would have thought to paint a scene like this on a pot though, although I did paint too.

Water scene on one side.

The style of the landscape reminds me a little of paintings by my great aunt Jennie. She was self-taught and at one time her paintings hung throughout our house. At some point they were offered to and taken by my cousins who were closer descendants. I always liked them and although it was hard to argue with the thought gesture I missed them.

Many, if not all, were landscapes copied from the American Paintings galleries at the Metropolitan Museum. I was shocked when I first visited and saw them although it made perfect sense. Strange to know them so well for having lived with the copies all those years. I could see how much better the originals were but I missed hers. In particular there was one with a path between birch trees. I tried but failed to find it on the Met’s website. This Kensett below is in the same spirit.

Kensett rom the Met’s collection.

I have a distinct memory of showing her a package of plastic cowboys and Indians someone had given the tiny tot me to entertain me for a day at my grandparents. There was a garish sunset on the cardboard top where the bag was stapled together. She admired it and asked me if she could have it to make a painting from and I agreed. (Such an oddly distinct memory. As an aside, thinking back on it now it also seems odd that my parents purchased endless such bags of cowboys and Indians for us, and racing cars. I think soldiers seldom if ever. There never seemed to be a question about a little girl circa 1967 or so, routinely playing with cowboys and Indians. I’d like to say that this was a statement on the part of my parents, but it just wasn’t – unless the not thinking otherwise was a statement of its own!)

This bit has some paint loss unfortunately.

Having lived most of my adult life in a Manhattan apartment, the concept of cut flowers from my yard is a relatively new and very welcome phenomena. Suddenly it is as if I never really understood the full usefulness of vases. I mean the occasional bunch of posies from the bodega or gift of some extra thoughtful person and you need a place to put them. But the extreme pleasure of clipping a bit of what is blooming in the yard and having it in the house is a new one.

There sadly is some paint loss on one side. Shipping may have made it a bit worse. I am putting it in a quiet cat free space – to the extent that exists in this house.

Dahlias from the yard which would look pretty good if I thought it could hold water!

I deeply suspect that this vase is no longer water tight. There is a hairline crack in the bottom which makes me unlikely to try it. I can easily imagine how nice it would look with some nodding peonies or spring roses from the bushes in the yard might look. I am, however, quite content with this just as it is!

Honey Pot

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: Here in New Jersey, where Deitch Studio vacations, there is more opportunity for household items than in the tight confines of New York City’s base of action. Recently I picked this up online and had it sent to New Jersey. Honey is consumed in both places although I think of it more in New Jersey where we purchase it from local bees. I was pleased to find it waiting for me when we got here.

Local honey for sale on River Road.

On the route which I (used to and hope to again) run, just beyond the dentist with a giant tooth out front, I would go past a pretty little old house on a main street sporting a sign declaring, The Bees Live Here and bottles of honey along with a cash tin so folks could leave cash and carry. Since I was always running I never bought it this way, but a friend who lives on a nearby block has purchased it for me.

I was thinking of this, in part, when I bought this honey holder. I have seen some of these come and go online and suddenly it just was my turn. I purchased it from @obscuraantiques from Mike Zohn who used to have a favorite establishment in Manhattan which I have written about and missed dearly. (One of those posts with the treasures within can be found here.)

These lumpy sort of homemade looking bees have legs that almost make them look like they are dancing on this faux weave container. There is a spot for the spoon. It is not large, only about five inches high and I have yet to introduce honey into it. Haven’t decided if I will or if it will just be on display in homage to the bees and their product.

One-of-a-kind bee ring in my collection.

Some readers may know about my affection for these hard working critters. I have shared the ring I had made by a jeweler friend, a large queen bee. She perches on a bit of honeycomb and attracts many compliments, sometimes even from folks on the street. (That post can be found here.)

Bees are quite busy here and my mother planted the garden (lots of choice flowers) in consideration of them and the birds. If I was here full time I would consider having a hive. It would probably be a bit of a disaster however so let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves.

The aggressive cucumber patch! I have discovered it is alive with bees!

I was working on the cucumber vines the other morning – turns out that cucumbers, as much as I love them, want to aggressively take over the yard, not to mention their immediate area. I am pleased they are so happy but the cabbages and zinnias won’t have a chance if I don’t discipline the cukes some. However, I had never realized that the bees like the pre-cucumber flower so much and frankly they did not appreciate my interference with their morning snack, so I have largely ceded the patch in deference to them.

Commute

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: Today is a bit of a day in the life of post, back to toys tomorrow! As ongoing readers know, a few weeks ago Kim and I packed kitties and a few bags and headed to our house at the Jersey shore for a few weeks. With a new job I don’t have a lot of vacation so I am commuting these first weeks.

My new digs for work are way over on York Avenue and 62nd – an ideal daily commute from our New York apartment and I walk to and from most days. Occasionally I hop on a slow moving bus that wanders up and down York – and then oddly meanders across 57th Street.

Over the river heading to NYC just as the sun is coming up.

I am paying for my being a hop, skip and a jump from work with more than a month of a Jersey commute which is an hour and twenty minute train ride, with another twenty to thirty minutes on the subway and walking on the other end. It is a bit of a shock to the system – being at the mercy of the NJ transit system and back in the clutches of the Q train daily.

On the other hand, as I write this from my deck this Saturday morning I just saw a hummingbird take a long, long drink from a flowering tree and that is part of my summer reward. As I write, I am perched on my deck in full view of some ripening peppers and tomatoes. Cicadas buzz in the background.

My commuter mug, a great gift, but it did turn on my earlier this week.

It may be worth it but there is a cost for my slice of paradise! Our morning, always an early start, is even earlier. Cats (so many cats!) need to be fed, litterboxes cleaned and Blackie needs his shot. Kim tackles much of it but there’s a mad flurry of activity for a bit. The train ride in is an easy one and I get on early so always have a seat. As long as I don’t have an early appointment to make me crazy if the train has a hiccup, it is generally a time for some extra work or reading.

Sunrise on the way into the city – sort of the dividing point where it becomes more urban.

A friend christened my commute with a travel mug for my coffee, which I now fill religiously and think of her as I drink my piping hot coffee on the train. However, the other day in my enthusiasm I filled it too high and the steam popped the top. When I threw my bag onto my shoulder to run out the door hot coffee streamed down my back! Ouch and a pause to change my top layer (and put some soap on it so it wouldn’t stain!) and I was out the door. My back smarted all the way to work and I couldn’t take my jacket off as my tank had a coffee stain on the back! I have learned my lesson and I both allow to cool and don’t fill quite so ambitiously.

Heading into Red Bank station, we slow through these woods and then over the river. I love this few minutes coming home.

This route to and from the city is a well worn one of course and I have been traveling it on and off since reaching adulthood. It was the first and last leg on my trips to and from college for the holidays. Eventually it was the trip I took to visit my folks once I was living in New York, and ultimately to my dad in hospice during his long illness. Aside from the time of the pandemic (I have written about my time taking the ferry here) and just beyond when I indulged in a car to and from my increasingly lengthy visits to mom during her illness, the train was my main conveyance here and back. (I wrote about those trips with a lovely comfort dog, Cash, here.)

Where the view turns urban as we approached NYC the other morning.

The trip on the Jersey side starts out with water and woods. A third or more of the way there, houses start to emerged and are closer together, over some marshland (my mom used to talk about the wildlife in those marshes!) and then it becomes increasingly urban. Before you know it you are in Elizabeth and Newark and then the City is in sight before a ride through a tunnel (used to terrify me as a kid, these tunnels) where my ears pop, and then into Penn Station on the other side.

Mom always talked about the birds and other wildlife in these marshes.

Of course the trip back is the same in reverse going back. Getting to the train is always more stressful in the evening and I struggle with the discipline to get out of the office with enough time to do the reverse path to the train. It is generally boarding when I get there (unless delayed) and I hop on in the nick of time. The evening by necessity is more work filled as I have left things I can deal with on the train for that time and it is largely work time.

Weather permitting a quickly assembled dinner can be had on the deck – twinkling lights on and Radio Dismuke (more about that here) playing popular standards of the 20’s and 30’s. Tempting to stay up, but an early to bed with the early to rise to commute on the horizon again!

The Summer Shift

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: The suitcases are largely packed, art supplies for weighing in massively in a Fresh Direct bag – what did we do before Fresh Direct bags? I have moved everything imaginable in them. For those of you who don’t have Fresh Direct, they are super large reusable bags with handles which our food is delivered in. The company will take them back or you can stockpile them for moves to you summer house, move your office and more.

Kim’s bag of art supplies, carefully prepacked.

The cats are looking at us suspiciously. They duly noted that the suitcase after last week’s trip to San Diego never went back down to the basement. Something is clearly afoot! No one has gone near the carriers but we will need to grab them fast in the morning if we don’t want to have to dig them out from under our bed. I will them to become used to this twice a year ritual now but they are resisting it. Cookie will undoubtedly spend the entire vacation under a chair again, hissing at us. (We continue to try to deploy new ways of dealing with it and I will report back on those efforts.)

It looked like so much in NYC and seems like next to nothing here in NJ!

This year things are different than last. I have less vacation time earned at my new job so I will spend more of my time commuting, some remote days and then some vacation at the end. I am reminded of how different work is, having a new job is an adjustment still in month six.

Much of my staff is new and haven’t accrued much vacation and I worry that when the busy season of fall hits we will all get exhausted. We are all still getting used to each other and the team is still emerging and finding itself. We are told our offices will move, maybe as early as October. We are somewhat camped out in our current space (leaks! mice!) so we are looking forward to it, despite the fact it will come at a busy time.

The bounty of cherry tomatoes and a couple of tiny strawberries.

My new commute takes me way over to the East side of Manhattan – handy for a girl who lives on York Avenue most of the year, but adding time onto the commute from New Jersey. I am eyeing the ferry which would leave me on First and 35th just to shoot up to 62nd and York and cuts the trip to 50 minutes. On the other side the commute is a bit longer home and I have to decide if it is worth it. The ferry is, without question, a more pleasant way to travel!

Oh the cucumbers…

I am looking most forward to time in my garden however, and evenings out on the deck. That has become real summer for me. Reports of my cucumbers, tomatoes and peppers come from a friend daily. Cucumbers in particular seem very happy, with their prickly strange nascent bounty – pickle size bits! My cucumbers have grown lavishly and would cheerfully take over the world given time. I gave them small trellises to climb which they covered immediately and kept going. We eat a lot of cucumbers so I am good with this, at least in theory.

First year this dahlia bloomed – was given to me in memory of my mom.

The cherry tomatoes had spit out a few specimens on my last trip but are quite laden now. The larger tomatoes had not yet yielded fruit. The strawberries in their pots appear happy, but a bit slow. Perhaps they too need a trellis and a spot in the yard next year. There is a tiny grapevine which has taken hold and I am hoping that it will winter and return for further growth next year.

This grapevine is rather impressive. Has grown a lot in the few weeks since I was last here.

Mom always had grapes and strawberries growing wild across fences in the backyard growing up – we never harvested them much and they were really there for the wildlife. I take that attitude with my blueberry bushes which are laden with berries and disappear in the twinkling of an eye. These days the birds, bunnies and chipmunks and I are locked in a race to see who gets what. of the other produce I am sorry to say I am less generous than my mother was.

The deck last summer.

Few things restore me better than an evening on my deck with twinkling fairy lights and some music playing. It makes all the effort of moving us there worthwhile. Time slows which these days is magical.

However, as I write this, the front door area in this small apartment is laden with packages and cats are giving us a sideways look. They know! Shortly I will do a final clearing of the fridge and throughout and we will hit the road. With any luck I will send a sign off from the other side!

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We arrived, relatively without incident. Cash, my favorite car dog friend, was displeased with cats in his car, but he remained at a reasonable distance in the front seat. Just looking at Jeff occasionally and asking Why? (I have written previously about Jeff and Cash here.)

Cash looking at Jeff and asking, Why are these cats in our car?

Cookie and Blackie have disappeared into the house, under something somewhere. B will likely come out when he hears us in the bedroom later, not sure about C. We are trying something different and giving her a room to herself, Kim’s studio, upstairs.

Rainy day here so I only have rainy pictures of the garden. Alas, hoping it clears for us this evening!

Kit Kat Klub Revue

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: Today’s Pictorama tidbit comes via our good friend Bruce Simon. Bruce and his wife Jackie live on the other side of the country. My job used to bring me to their doorstep periodically and they have family this way and therefore not-quite-annual meet ups were possible. The Covid years resulted in several years where we were deprived of visits. This year we somehow managed a visit on each coast and we saw them earlier this summer and then a bonus round with Bruce a mere weeks later in San Diego when we flew in for Comic Con.

Kim and Bruce go way back to Kim’s west coast youth, but Bruce won my heart early on with splendid collections of early cartoons he sent. Krazy Kats, Aesop Fable cartoons – he has made a serious contribution to my cultural education. So it is a hats off to Bruce Simon for this post!

Much to my surprise Bruce brought me this splendid Felix tidbit found in his ramblings for the books he produces. (Some of those can be found on Amazon here and here.) This bit of a classified ad hails from The Muskogee Daily Phoenix and the Muskogee Times-Democrat. A quick look online reviews that this is an Oklahoma daily publication still in existence today. It was founded in 1888 so its had quite a run thus far.

This ad would appear to be an ad for the Classified Ad pages of the paper at the bottom while boasting this Kit Kat Klub Revue with the Krazy Kats of Rhythm. A nice swipe of Felix is chuckling in the lower left corner under On the Screen A Woman Rebels starring Katherine Hepburn. You could only see the Krazy Kats on Wednesdays and there is a balloon which informs us that this is A Wliburn Cushman Circuit Unit.

A replay of this pic of Bruce and Kim in San Diego where we had a lunch of waffles one day.

A snippet of another newspaper available online informs that this was a five piece band and Mr. Cholet was the singer and front man for the band. They played sweet hot and swing music. This was back in 1937 and 150 people had the opportunity to see it on a given Wednesday at the Ritz. If you read the fine print at the bottom it seems that putting an ad in the Classified Want Ad would get you one free ticket for the show.

Someone asked me recently how it felt to no longer work for an arts organization and I had to admit, I am missing the many hours of live music I have enjoyed in recent years. Radio Dismuke (I wrote about this rather wonderful online radio station as resource in a post here) helps fill the gap, but it is a big change, as was leaving the Met after many years of enjoying it – more or less like having all that art in your own living room.

Admittedly this ad puts me in the mood. However, it is an itch which is unlikely to get scratched soon as tomorrow I pack Kim and cats up and we head to the New Jersey camp for the remainder of the summer. So more on that annual bivouac tomorrow, stay tuned.

San Diego Con is On

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Pam’s Pictorama Post: We announced that we would head out here a few months back when we were told that Kim would be inducted into the Eisner Hall of Fame.

It’s been more than a decade since our last trip to this con, although I made at least one return trip for work subsequently. 150,000 people are said to crowd into this tiny town which does appear to literally be bursting at the seams under the weight of it.

As Kim said, there’s one in every crowd. Although, you actually don’t see many Supermans. A lot more Batmans.

Without getting too into it, travel was difficult and verged on disaster at times – a worldwide meltdown of all international and domestic airports, followed by a fire near our terminal at JFK which meant the evacuation of thousands mere hours before our departure. Add in some sort of traffic mess (3 hours from York and 86th Street to JFK essentially not long enough, we almost missed our flight) and my personal favorite, our hotel reservations turned out to be canceled when we got here at 11:00 at night. Visions of bad films with no place to sleep being the punchline occurred to my sleep deprived state. (2 AM NYC time!)

Seemed sort of classic.
Sidewalk stroll at the Con.

San Diego is just clogged with folks. Young, old, those in costume (I Dream of Jeannie anyone?), those not. We are concerned with an ever-shrinking comics related part of the con which is like a snake eating its own tail as first the animation and then action film industry slowing takes over.

From where I sit in our highrise hotel, the Hilton across from us is wrapped in an ad for FX which says, What we do in the Shadows with creepy heads. Gigantic seagulls cartwheel in from of our 20th floor window. Isn’t it too high for them?

View out our window.

Kim was part of an interesting panel on Harvey Kurzman first thing out of the bag Thursday. Luckily a woman named Becky jumped into the fray and got us our badges in time for getting into the session. (The lines to get in are like Disney World long – this apt comparison from our friend Bruce. The lines are like miles long.)

Kim with our friend Bruce Simon at lunch on Thursday.

Kim offered to take an afternoon adventure with me and I found an antique mall out beyond the airport here. It was a large place, in the style of the ones we go to in New Jersey.

Being San Diego, it was somewhat open on two sides to the outdoors where furniture and plants were on a sort of porch. Kim found a Dumas novel he hadn’t read – something found and published posthumously. Sadly, I found nothing portable enough or that I was will to solve a shipping issue for. This Felix tea set below tempted me a bit.

In retrospect I am amazed I resisted.
The interior of the antiques mall.

*****

The morning (Friday) was taken up with the Eisner Lifetime Achievement awards. Many stories were told – some especially moving ones by the grandchildren of the people being honored. (The family of the guy who created Classic Comics – see my post about those here.) However, Kim and Gary Groth (editor of Fantagraphics, Kim’s publisher) were among the living folks honored.

Kim accepting his lifetime achievement award.

After fighting our way through another morning of crowds at the Con we decided to take a shot at a used bookstore I had read about, Verbatim Books. Unlike yesterday, when the car took us to the middle of industrial wasteland no man’s land, we were delivered to a sort of interesting up and coming part of town about a ten minute car ride away.

The trip through the Balboa Park neighborhood was filled with the most wonderful old cottages. Our driver told us that they, not surprisingly, sell for around $1m. Many were in a Spanish style, but some cute Craftsmen ones as well.

Rather good Mexican food for lunch.
Strange ancient pinball machine in Mexican place.

You’ll likely be seeing the loot in future posts, but among other things I found a few interesting books of early 20th Century fiction – let’s see if there’s a new writer for me in it. (I saw but did not buy a vintage Judy Bolton novel. For those of you who are late to the Pictorama game, a post devoted to reading that entire series of mystery books can be found here.)

And I restrained myself from purchasing a very large book on collecting American toys. Restraint ultimately failed me however on one or two other purchases that will require some navigating.

We decided to roll the dice again and had an Uber take us to another bookstore, Bluestocking Books. Much to my surprise, I scored several books and a photograph there. We tried to parley it a bit further and find an antiques shop described to us by the folks at the bookstore, but after a six block walk to a somewhat dodgy neighborhood we gave up and circled back. Our afternoon of adventure at a close and soon our San Diego adventure as well.