New York 2002: The places that kids take you

I wrote this column when I was publisher of the Baltimore Business Journal. A collection of columns from 1981 to 1999 is available at this link. 
 

NEW YORK, Sep 9, 2002 -- Fat Cat Billiards and Jazz is one of those Greenwich Village clubs where the decor resembles the basement of a fraternity house. The furniture is beat up and the johns are grungy.

Which means that it's a great place to hear music. Admission is $25, the only alcohol is beer at $5 a pop and on any given night, you might hear something of surpassing beauty.

The newspaper listing said that Fat Cat's headliner was the Ali Jackson quartet, and posters touted someone named "E. Dankworth (a.k.a. Skain)."

My son the jazz fan had heard through the grapevine that E. Dankworth was really trumpeter Wynton Marsalis, so he persuaded me and his two sisters to go with him. We got there early for the 10 p.m. show.

Wynton Marsalis with Mr. Rogers, 1986 (wyntonmarsalis.org)

Thanksgiving in Spain: trout on the menu

Grandpa Fred Breiner, with ever-present cigar. Richie, Danny, Mickey, and cousin Bobby Marcus. Maybe 1949.

PAMPLONA, Spain -- I do miss Thanksgiving. It is the best American holiday with the best memories for me. This year is the ninth that I have been outside the country. Again it is a work day -- department meeting, then coffee with a colleague who specializes in German philosophy and collects news clips about Bridget for me. Then grading 18 final projects from 75 students. Cindy has plans for trout for dinner.

Thanksgiving 1961, Bart Starr and Packers vs. Lions, Press-Gazette Archive

On Thanksgiving Day in 2006 I gave a lecture at the public university in Santa Cruz, Bolivia, and walked out into the tropical heat and humidity, feeling really homesick. Along one of the main roads, the lame Santa Claus displays set against an inappropriate cultural background poisoned any warm feelings of nostalgia. Depressing, really, especially there, where the poor are really poor and the middle class lives in walled communities.

What I really needed to pick me up was a dose of the Lions vs. the Packers. For some reason, no one in Santa Cruz cares about that game. No TV, no John Madden, no family. If I had been at the Kuhns' in Columbus, we would have gone over to the neighbors' yard and played some pickup hoops in the driveway. Or in Cleveland, maybe a Turkey Trot or some hoops.