August 30, 2008 - late summer

feeling a little end-of-summer bittersweetness… i love fall, love the late-afternoon golden light, love asters, love apples. but i’m sorry to see summer go. it reminds me of having to say goodbye to the beach when i was a kid.
you know how some feelings are mixed, not all one thing or another? you want things to stay the same, but if they do, you’ll miss the next opportunity. i want to hold on to this beautiful day, but i also want to see the stars tonight. i want summer to stay, but i’m also excited about autumn. “the letters” comes out in the middle of september. i can’t wait to tell you about that.
i’m in a certain kind of mood today. i had an incredibly strange, touching, mystical thing happen over the last few days. trying to make sense of it. the change of seasons always sets me reeling a bit. i know summer officially lasts till late september, but to me, it ends on labor day…
i took the photo at the top of this post driving in maine, and it reminds me of the late-summer skies that have been making me feel so elegaic.
here’s a favorite painting…”a summer night” by winslow homer. may you all have a happy labor day weekend and many more wonderful summers…

August 30, 2008 - sea glass

this is for a friend who wrote me asking about sea glass. she’s taking her mother on a trip to york beach maine…
i have a york beach story. i’d taken a trip as far up the maine coast as i could get, near lubec—to escape regular life, and see wild things, and do revisions on my novel. the landscape up there was all pines, craggy granite, crashing waves, bald eagles. the trip did what i’d hoped it would—scoured out my spirit, filled me up with clarity and inspiration.
on the way back, needing to stop for the night, i turned off the highway at the yorks, made my way down to the beach. i arrived in time for an incredible phenomenon: the magic hour, but with the sun’s last, pink-amber light caught in salt spray. the photo doesn’t do it justice…but it was like driving through pink fog.
the next morning i walked the beach. the tide was out, the waves rolling in, long frothy sheets over the hard-packed sand. i can’t remember if i found sea glass on that walk—i know i found a sand dollar.
but sea glass is any glass that has been in the sea, had its sharp edges sanded and rounded by the wave action, left on the tide line. it can be white or brown or green or, most rare, blue. we used to find the most beautiful aquamarine pieces from old coke bottles.
the tide line yields amazing things. driftwood, channelled whelk egg cases, moonstones, clamshells… my sister lost her wedding ring while swimming over 20 years ago; i never walk the beach without looking for it. i know people who have found such things.
happy birthday to my friend’s mother…i hope she finds sea glass.
what have you found on beach walks? other than peace and serenity, which are the best of all…

August 26, 2008 - vamos rafa

(photo taken by rosa avila)

yesterday i went to the u.s. open with friends, saw rafael nadal play bjorn phau in the first round, winning 7-6, 6-3, 7-6. it was a great match, and really thrilling to see rafa play.
tennis is a poetic and inspiring sport. it has everything. tension, power, precision, touch, toughness. it has story and conflict, long hard hits and whisper placement. tennis is summer to me, and the u.s. open is the end of summer. when i was a kid i never wanted to stop playing. we didn’t have lights on our courts; the sun would go down, and we’d keep going way after dark, until we couldn’t even see the ball.
the picture below, from left: dore dedrick, me, and rosa avila. dore loves spain and tennis, and she is a great and scholarly art historian. to hear her talk about gaudi is to wander in barcelona. she has told me about rafa and mallorca, and his family.

so, rafa. he has great heart. we were at the net, right behind his chair, and beside some people who’d come from spain to see him play. their passion for his game was electric. his uncle toni was in a box behind the baseline, and i couldn’t help watch the family connection. rafa is close to his family, something i of course find so touching. he’s a great athlete, with the support of people who love him.
that is a mystery of art and sports. you have to do it on your own, but you do it so much better and more deeply when you’ve got someone who believes in you.

August 26, 2008 - rosa

rosa avila, with whom i watched tennis yesterday, was a junior tennis champion herself, and is now a drummer. i first met her with mark lonergan—drumming in the band when they played a summer gig in riverside park a few years ago. rosa drums in andy williams’ band, in branson. she works with andy’s guests, including ann-margret. (above, with rosa) here is rosa’s drum kit, with a picture of ann-margret on the flintstones taped to it for the show. rosa is incredibly enthusiastic, she brings great energy to everything she does, and it was so fun to watch tennis with her.

August 22, 2008 - behind the music video

recently i had the privilege of seeing wonderful artists come together to make a video of “into the sun”. the song was performed by maura fogarty, written by maura fogarty/john bertsche. the video was written, directed, and filmed by alex cirillo. it features maura singing at dr. gilbert’s cafe in the bronx, the irish hunger memorial, and battery park, and was filmed partly at hubbard’s point. line produced by amelia (mia) onorato (also prop master and, with alex, casting director), the video stars chris o’brien, amy falcone, and katherine bellando. i love the song, and i love the creativity that went into the video. thank you everyone for doing an amazing job. the filming began at hubbard’s point, continued in the bronx, then chelsea, and wrapped in lower manhattan. maura’s music is amazing.
here are some shots of the shoot…

below, from left, chris, amy, mia, and alex (at hubbard’s point):

alex filming amy’s big final scene on the rocks at hubbard’s point:

mia, having just finished painting the table:

chris and maisie, his would-be co-star:

maura outside dr. gilbert’s cafe in the bronx:

maura and makeup artist karen otto at dr. gilbert’s:

alex filming chris o’brien and katherine bellando:

maura:

kerry:

alex and mia:

amy and chris:

maura with michael fallon, production assistant, at the irish hunger memorial:

August 21, 2008 - irish memorial

this summer i’ve spent some time at the irish hunger memorial in lower manhattan. (we filmed part of maura’s video there.) this visit was with audrey and robert loggia. (audrey o’brien loggia, that is.) we felt as if we were in the west of ireland. the memorial was created by artist brian tolle. it’s incredibly moving; every stone and plant came from ireland, a roofless stone cottage brought from county mayo. from the top of the hill, we looked out over the hudson river toward ellis island and the statue of liberty; turning back, we could see the site of the world trade center and st. paul’s church.
bob sang “minstrel boy,” and in memory of merv and their time at st. cleran’s, audrey and i quoted yeats:

wine comes in at the mouth
and love comes in at the eye;
that’s all we shall know for truth
before we grow old and die.
i lift the glass to my mouth,
i look at you, and i sigh.

August 5, 2008 - newport

a day in newport, but it started in bristol.
visiting the herreshoff museum, we stopped into the america’s cup hall of fame. there’s a lot of our family history there!
my brother-in-law olivier onorato helped transport the mast of ranger—the beautiful j-class defender of 1937—up narragansett bay to bristol, towed behind nanny or baksheesh, one of the tenders for france lll—and then carry it up to the museum.

olivier sailed on france lll, the french challenger in 1980. he’d been chosen straight out of st. elme, his school in arcachon, by the illustrious alum baron marcel bich.

baron bich skippered france lll and knew an excellent sailor when he saw one. olivier was just a kid when he arrived in newport in 1977, to start training for the cup; my sisters and i were there, and he and maureen fell in love, and taking refuge from the rain in a doorway on spring street, he spoke the famous line “quand il pleut, nous sommes ensemble,” and that was that.
olivier raced, maureen (a.k.a. max) worked at newport offshore, they got married, started a sail loft with some friends, and had mia. here’s max with liberty, the 1983 boat—she built the mainsail. that’s the year the australians won; the cup races haven’t been held in newport since, but she and olivier continued to make sails for many boats, many syndicates.

walking through the exhibit with max, o, and mia was fun; they knew everyone in the pictures. i love this one of them in front of ted turner. our ted connection is multi-layered. we knew him from newport, in the tenacious days, then courageous during the 1977 and 1980 cup years. once max needed to call olivier, to say she’d be late meeting him at the candy store. she didn’t have change for the newport offshore pay phone, so she asked ted if she could borrow a nickel.
many years later, crazy in love aired on tnt. i saw ted at a screening in LA, and paid him back the nickel. he remembered max and o, and asked if they were still together. i said yes, and showed him a picture of their daughter mia, and he said the nickel had been a good investment.

after the museum, we went to newport and visited all the places we lived and spots that were important to us—the walsh house on gibbs avenue where the french crew lived; my sisters’ apartments on brewer and spring streets; mine on dresser street; the big house on bellevue avenue where i worked as a maid; even mrs. richardson’s boarding house behind the casino, where mim used to spend summer weekends. and then we went to the inn at castle hill to gaze at the harbor and wonder about our old friends, and think of all the fair breezes we’ve had since our newport times, and to be thankful for all the summer days.

July 27, 2008 - a midsummer day’s dream

the old lyme midsummer festival.
the name conjures up a magical combination of puck, oberon, florence griswold, and all those old lyme artists painting by the banks of the lieutenant river in the golden twilight.
but it’s real, and annual, and very dreamy and small-town, and this year’s festival took place this past weekend. i signed copies of last kiss at the lyme academy of fine arts (above, with mary fiorelli.) thank you once again to julie kerop (just below) of the turning page. we are so lucky to have such a fine book store here in old lyme (a.k.a. “black hall” to my readers.) julie has presided over so many creative events for me and old lyme’s other writers, including david handler and dominick dunne. when readers want signed books from us, even when we’re miles away, she tracks us down and gets us to pick up our pens. i loved sitting at the table on saturday, glancing over and seeing julie’s smiling face…

the day was idyllic, hot and summery. i met many readers, and was touched by the stories they told. signing books is like stepping into a time machine…you never know whether you’ll be taken back ten or twenty or eighty years or more. just a couple of examples:
a woman handed me her book to be signed as well as a letter in very familiar handwriting: my mother’s. it turned out that my mother had grown up with hers in new britain—my mother on lyons street and her mother on hart street. they’d started “the lyon-hart club.” this letter was written years later, when my mother was sick with a brain tumor. she writes about their happy childhoods, “the parties in the playhouse, the trips to grover’s at york beach, and the paper dolls made from d & l’s pattern books.
and she also writes about mim (her mother, my grandmother, who built our cottage at hubbard’s point, and who lived with our family) and how much she missed her: “i miss her so much. except for my college years when i came home almost every weekend, and the first year of my marriage when tom and i were living in an attic in waterbury, we were together until i became ill.”
i love the attic in waterbury, and i love the poignant love for her mother…
she also writes about me and my sisters, what we were up to (“maureen is married to a frenchman, whom she met in newport. olivier was a member of the crew on france 3 in two of the america’s cup races. they were married in france in a little old 11th century church.”)
another new britain connection in line: a couple who’d bought a typewriter from my father. the man’s father was charlie of brown’s market, where we used to buy our groceries. it turned out he was chick herzy, the band leader…and i asked him if he remembered agnes, the brown’s market cat…she was the mother of several of our kittens. and he did…
there were so many moving stories. i’ll share part of one that made me cry. a woman told me she wanted to read last kiss but was afraid to—her son had been murdered. when she mentioned her last name, i recognized it, and asked if her son was “____”. it was; i knew the story and had been so affected by what happened to him. i felt so emotional to meet his mother, to realize she’s one of my readers.
after the signing, i walked outside with mary fiorelli. she is a good friend and the librarian of old lyme’s phoebe griffin noyes library. a band was playing—zach lockwood and the roseliners. i stayed to listen, and to wander through the art exhibits. the fire department was holding a hot dog roast.
it was a summer idyll. i think i saw the ghost of florence griswold, and i’m sure i heard puck laughing at all the mischief. i’ll post a few pictures here; if you look closely, i’m pretty sure you’ll see henry ward ranger reclining on the grass and miss florence sweeping by in a long white dress.

July 24, 2008 - fiction luncheon

i’m shown above with the legendary roxanne coady.
roxanne is too young and too much fun to be your standard legend, but to writers, that’s just what she is… her independent bookstore, r.j. julia booksellers, has launched countless books, writers, and big ideas. roxanne has done so much to bring writers and readers together, and she does it with such grace, creativity, and innovation.
today i attended the kick-off fiction luncheon—three writers (nancy clark, claire cook, and me), a roomful of readers, and a view of the stormy sea. we met at the pine orchard yacht club, talked about writing and life, had a wonderful time.
as roxanne said, introducing the three of us to the crowd, women bond easily—especially when we share a love of books. we meet, and start talking and getting to know each other, and there’s an instant intimacy. that’s just what it was like. it was a lovely time, and i was honored to be at the first of what i’m sure will be a long series of such gatherings. it was the first time i’ve talked about last kiss, and i really enjoyed it. (and it was great to sign another book for edward!)
here’s a picture of my table, and the room…the water and thimble islands out the window behind everyone:

July 23, 2008 - sideways

how lovely that last kiss is displayed in the window of r.j. julia of madison, connecticut. i especially enjoyed the sight of myself lying sideways, looking out at the street.
sometimes a new perspective is just what’s needed…