Year: 2011

Flowers for Gloria

Posted on by Marcia Mayne

Today would have been my mom’s 82nd birthday. Gloria loved flowers, roses, in particular. My, how she loved roses! It would have been such a treat for her to visit the New York Botanical Gardens today. But since she can’t, I’m sending these flowers to her.

Mama and I were alike and yet so different. She told me once that she wished she’d had my courage. I told her I wished I had her brains. I know for sure that if she had had half the educational opportunities I’ve had, she would have reached the moon. I’m glad I was able to tell her that.

For a long time, I measured myself against her. Probably still do.

Mama, the last time she visited

She sewed, without a pattern. She’d take the measurements, cut the material and sew a dress, skirt, shirt or whatever. She crocheted and embroidered, baked and cooked, and did each equally well. Everyone loved her rum cakes.

Played the flute and taught me how. The difference is, at the end of the summer, I’d forget. She never did.

Did the payroll for my grandfather and my uncle every Friday afternoon. She never used a calculator and it was never wrong. She kept meticulous notes and filed the receipts neatly every week. And if there was ever a question from an employee, she could remember exactly how many hours they worked and what their payroll amount was and back up her memory with her records. She was never wrong.

In my first or second year of high school, my English teacher asked us to write a poem. We had read poems in class but she hadn’t taught us how to write one. I didn’t know how and worse, I didn’t think I could. I was almost in tears when I got home from school that day.

I wish I had kept the poem Mama dictated as she sat marking papers at the table. After I finished writing it, she started to hum a melody, one she had created for the poem. She grew even taller in my eyes that day.

Mama always said she could ‘read’ me like a book. She wasn’t bluffing – she could sniff out a lie every time. I learned early not even to try to fool her.  Her dreams were prophetic, I never understood it until some of mine started to have the same quality.

She was a stickler for what was right and proper, and set the bar so high, I never thought I’d ever measure up. So I was shocked the first time Gloria’s words came out of my mouth!

For the last ten years, I’ve been negotiating life without her often sage advice and insight. I miss her everyday but I know the love we have for each other keeps me strong.

Happy Birthday, Mom!

 

 

Manhattan to Spain via the Bronx

Posted on by Marcia Mayne

I wanted to revisit Barcelona earlier this year. Had reserved a room at a hotel that’s located steps from the Ramblas. I was excited. For years since I left Barcelona, I had not felt the urge to return. My experience has so shaped me and my view about travel, I wanted to preserve the memories.

But quite unexpectedly, I started feeling that I needed to go. What would Barcelona look like since I was a student there 20 plus years ago? Would the images I’ve clutched to my heart look like anything I’d see? Would I recognize the street I used to live on?

All these questions flooded my brain as if the door behind which they had been stored had finally been opened. I was excited to find out.

Then life intervened and I returned to New York nursing my disappointment. It had been a perfect plan.

Things looked up late in May when I noticed an article in the New York Times about an exhibition that was set to open at the New York Botanical Gardens. Titled Spanish Paradise: Gardens of the Alhambra, it seemed an answer to my longing for Barcelona and Spain.

The Alhambra, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, is a palace that was built in the 14th century by the Moorish leaders who ruled Southern Spain. Its gardens are beautiful and legendary. Although I had studied the history and architecture of the Alhambra, I had not seen it during my time in Spain. An exhibition was not Barcelona, but I knew it would satisfy my longing. So last weekend, my friend and I, cameras in tow, made a trip to the New York Botanical Gardens.

Located in the Bronx, the New York Botanical Gardens spreads approximately 250 acres. An oasis of tranquility and beauty, it houses plant laboratories, gardens, plant collections, old growth forest containing oak, beeches, cherry, birch, tulip and white ash trees, some more than 200 years old, a cascade waterfall and wetland area. It’s the perfect location for an exhibition of this nature.

The focus of the Spanish Paradise is the replica of a Spanish garden that takes over 15,000 square feet of the Haupt Conservatory. With the aroma of lavender, jasmine, sour orange and lime trees, olive, fig and saffron, you are transported immediately to Southern Spain.

It’s an exhibition that appeals to the senses. Poems about nature by the Spanish poet, Frederico Garcia Lorca, line the Poetry Walk while Flamenco dancers provide entertainment on Saturday and Sunday afternoons. Sangria and tapas are available in the cafe.

In the library, rare prints, 19-century photographs of some of the courtyards of the Alhambra, paintings and other artifacts can be viewed. The exhibition also pays tribute to American poet, Washington Irving, who lived at the Alhambra while he was writing his collection of essays and sketches, Tales of the Alhambra, which sparked renewed interest in the palace. The Alhambra is one of Spain’s major tourist attractions.

Spanish Paradise sated my appetite temporarily. Now, I want to see the real thing.

Spanish Paradise: Gardens of the Alhambra will run until August 21, 2011 at the New York Botanical Gardens. 2900 Southern Blvd., New York. 718-817-8777.

Hours: 10 a.m. – 6 p.m. Tuesdays to Saturdays

Tickets: All Garden, $20. Grounds only, $5. The grounds are also free all day on Wednesdays and from 10 a.m. to 12 p.m. on Saturdays.

The Botanical Gardens are accessible by car or public transportation. If you’re in the New York area or planning to visit, add it to your list.

Enjoy!

 

Travel Photo Thursday – Old and New New York

Posted on by Marcia Mayne
Old and New New York

One of the newest hotels in New York, the Hyatt 48Lex, will open in August.

The old building, which housed a camera store, a deli and an antiques shop, was demolished around 2005 or 2006. I was curious to see what would take its place.

Once the scaffolding was removed, I was surprised a thoroughly modern structure which is a lovely counterpoint to the building next to it.

Several gargoyles adorn the older building, also a hotel. I wonder where the water that they normally channel will go. I guess it’ll roll off the glass siding of the Hyatt.

I’ll definitely take a closer look when it opens.

 

Tasty Thursdays – Gelato

Posted on by Marcia Mayne

I can’t remember a time in my adult life when I’ve eaten more ice cream, sorbet and gelato.

A pint or more of sorbet or ice cream is on my shopping list every week. I tell myself I’ll only need a pint but if I don’t pace myself, I can eat all of it in one sitting.

Last weekend, I was in the Bronx where my friend and I had a wonderful meal at Emilia’s on Arthur Avenue. A family-style restaurant, it was packed when we arrived at a little after six. Pat, one of the owners, told us the wait would be about 20 minutes. We took a short walk down the block to check out another restaurant that had been recommended but it was closed for holiday. So civilized.

I don’t normally order lasagna when I go to an Italian restaurant but this time, I decided to. I was very pleased with my selection. The lasagna was light, each layer almost as thin as a wafer.  My friend’s Chicken Parmigiana made me wish I had ordered it instead.

Gelato

When the dessert menu came, I looked longingly at the different flavors of sorbet – peach, coconut, orange and lemon – but had to pass. I had no room!

One thing that endears me to a restaurant is the people. By the time we left Emilia’s on Saturday night, we both felt as if we had returned to a place we’d been going to for years. Pat had us in conversation while we waited for our table, then she or her husband would check on us during the meal. We weren’t being singled out for special treatment, they did that routinely with everyone. Pat even introduced us to her granddaughter, who works at Emilia’s on weekends. I could see why the place was so packed when we arrived. It still was when we left hours later.

If you ever make it to the Bronx, just ask anyone how to get to Arthur Avenue in Little Italy and check out Emilia’s.

It’s been in the 90s here in the northeast this week and it made me think of gelato. There was none on the menu at Emilia’s. Anyway, here’s a recipe, courtesy of allrecipes.com

Ingredients

2 cups milk

1 cup heavy cream

4 egg yolks

1/2 cup sugar

 

Directions

In a medium saucepan, mix milk and cream. Warm until foam forms around the edges. Remove from heat.

In a large bowl, beat the egg yolks and sugar until frothy. Gradually pour the warm milk into the egg yolks, whisking constantly. Return mixture to saucepan; cook over medium heat, stirring with a wooden spoon until the mixture gels slightly and coats the back of the spoon. If small egg lumps begin to show, remove from heat immediately.

Pour the mixture through a sieve or fine strainer into a bowl. Cover, and chill for several hours or overnight.

Pour the mixture into an ice cream maker, and freeze according to the manufacturer’s instructions. Transfer to a sealed container, and freeze until firm. If the gelato is too firm, place it in the refrigerator until it reaches the desired consistency.

Buon Appetito!

 

A Perfect Meal

Posted on by Marcia Mayne

When I saw yesterday’s Daily Post prompt, Describe a Perfect Meal, I thought immediately of a dinner I was invited to several years ago.

The details of the menu have receded from my memory. What remains now, more than 15 years later, is the memory of the afternoon.

It was at the home of friends, a couple, who I have great affection for. He had been a diplomat and linguist who had had an assorted number of interesting occupations. He had lived in several countries, including a few in North Africa. She was vivacious, warm and funny. Together they had lived in several countries, including Germany and Columbia. Together, they were the picture of a lovely and loving couple who doted on each other.

Dinners and dinner parties in their home were occasions. Their guests, friends from all over the world, speaking several languages – Spanish, French, German – would discuss wines and books, art and politics and everything in between. Nothing was ever off the table.

The dinner that has stayed in my mind took place on a Saturday in summer. I can’t remember now if they had said dinner or lunch but whatever it was, it lasted from mid-afternoon until very late, so late, they invited my partner and me to stay over. I was definitely tempted — mostly so we could continue the conversation at breakfast!

It began with a light soup followed by 4 or 5 different courses, including one of pasta. That much, I remember. Each was small, about the size of tapas, and complimented by the perfect selection of wine.

There were no more than 6 or 8 of us, including our hosts, at this party. The afternoon unfolded in slow motion, there was no rush. We ate sumptuously and drank copiously, the conversation flowing as freely as the wine.

A perfect meal

I have fleeting images of that meal. But what I remember clearly was how lovely the meal was. Of course, after all that wine, I’m sure I was also more than a little buzzed.

I’ve always wanted to re-create the experience but I’m not sure I could. It was a once in a lifetime moment that will live in my heart forever.

A perfect meal, to me, isn’t so much about the menu, it’s about who’s sharing it with you.

 

A Human Safari Park?

Posted on by Marcia Mayne

This disturbs me so much, I hardly know how to write about it. “Survival launches tourism boycott of “human safari park.”

What the hell is a human safari park? I had to read the headline several times before I got it. The more I read, the more my blood boiled. I can’t even find the words to express my disgust.

Here’s the entire text and a link to the article:

Tour Operators Oppose Human Safaris

“The Association of Tour Operators in India’s Andaman islands has come out in support of Survival’s call for tourists to stop using the illegal road that cuts through the forest of the recently contacted Jarawa tribe. 

President of the Andaman Association of Tour Operators, Shri M Vinod, told Survival, ‘We don’t support ‘Jarawa tourism’. We have written to the administration asking for an alternative route so the tourists do not have to use the Andaman Trunk Road’.

Jarawa boy

Survival and local Andaman organization, Search, in June launched a tourist boycott of the illegal road, which takes thousands of tourists a month through the heart of the Jarawa’s land.

Tourists are risking the lives of the hunter-gatherer tribe, who have only had friendly contact with outsiders since 1998. The 365 Jarawa are likely to have little immunity to new diseases and could be devastated by an epidemic.

Last week, Sonia Gandhi, President of India’s ruling political party, discussed the Jarawa’s situation at a meeting of the powerful National Advisory Council. Mrs Gandhi is believed to be very concerned about the Jarawa. A recent report, commissioned by her, is said to emphasize the negative impact of the road and tourism.

Tourists treat the Jarawa like animals in a safari park by throwing biscuits and sweets for them. A number of Jarawa children have been hit by moving vehicles whilst trying to grab these treats. One tourist described his trip, ‘The journey through tribal reserve was like a safari ride as we were going amidst dense tropical rainforest and looking for wild animals, Jarawa tribals to be specific’.

Survival’s Director, Stephen Corry said today, ‘It’s great news that the tour operators want to avoid using the Andaman Trunk Road. With their support, there’s surely no obstacle to a complete ban on tourists traveling through the reserve. The authorities should take notice, and provide an alternative route as soon as possible.’”

We’re bigger and better than this. At least, we should be.

 

How Does Survival Help?

Since 1993 Survival has been urging the Indian government to close the road, protect the Jarawa’s land, and allow them to make their own decisions about their future.

In 1990 the local authorities announced that they intended to forcibly settle the Jarawa. Forced settlement was fatal for other tribes in the Andaman Islands, and has always been so for newly contacted tribal peoples worldwide. Following a vigorous campaign by Survival and local organisations, this plan was eventually abandoned.

In 2004 the authorities announced a radical new policy, stating that the Jarawa would be allowed to choose their own future, and that outside intervention in their lives would be kept to a minimum.

The Indian Supreme Court ordered the closure of the road through the Jarawa’s land in 2002 – yet it remains open, and poaching and exploitation are posing increasingly serious dangers.

Survival is campaigning to ensure that the road is closed and the policy of minimum intervention adhered to.

Learning to Embrace My Name

Posted on by Marcia Mayne

When you’re young, the simplest thing can cause a great deal of angst. For me, it was my family name. It’s quite unremarkable in the scheme of things but it took me a while to figure that out and even longer to embrace it.

As my mother used to tell it, when I was little, whenever I met anyone, I’d always tell them my full name. As if that wasn’t enough, I’d spell my last name, emphasizing the ‘y’ and the ‘e.’ I didn’t want anyone getting my Mayne wrong.

Then I started going to school with Thomases, Browns, Smiths, etc., and as the only Mayne, I was teased relentlessly (main road, horse mane, you get the picture). My then uncommon name, the name I had been so proud of, began to feel like a weight I didn’t want to carry. (When you’re little, you want to be special. Then comes that awkward time, when you just want to be regular.)

Bordeaux from Chateau du Mayne

I was not quite 6 when my mom, a school teacher, moved to a new school and took me with her. There I heard about a student, Jasmine Baskiratic (I’ve spelled it phonetically), whose name sounded weirder than mine.  Almost all the kids called her ‘Basket Racket.’ I never did. I was just relieved not to be the object of everyone’s ridicule.

Moving to Canada, so many names were unusual (to me) that mine didn’t even raise an eyebrow. From time to time, though, I’d get asked if I were related to a Mayne the person knew.

I was taken aback the first time I was asked. The attendant at the gym on campus, another student, asked if I were Robert Mayne’s sister. I chucked, out of relief (I’m not the only one) and because of another story my mother used to tell. When she was pregnant, my grandfather was so sure I would be a boy that he named me Robert and called me Bobby Mayne until the day he found out that I was a girl. (I like Bobby Mayne.)

Over the years, I’ve come to accept the uniqueness of my name.  People have remarked on its musicality, the way it flows easily off the tongue. Someone even said that it sounded like a stage name.

All of this helped me get comfortable with my name. And since it’s taken me so long to accept, I vowed never to change it.

I stopped in my tracks one day in my favorite liquor store when I noticed a bottle of Bordeaux with my name on it. My head swelled! I was so stoked, I ordered a couple cases and sent a bottle to family members. I also included a note telling them that it had been such a good harvest that year and demand was strong. Unfortunately, it meant that they could get only a bottle.

Just before my aunt returned to the U.K., I presented her with a few bottles. The look on her face when she saw the label is forever etched in my memory.

When friends came over, I’d put a few bottles out without making an announcement. It was fun to watch as the first person noticed the name. I still get a kick out of doing that.

I had hoped to visit the Chateau Grand Mayne on my trip to France but I ran out of time.

As if having a vineyard and wines with my name weren’t enough, one night I stumbled upon a place called Mayne Island. Named after Royal navy lieutenant, Richard Charles Mayne, Mayne Island is 21 kilometers square and home to about 900 permanent residents. It is located off the coast of British Columbia and north of Washington state’s San Juan Islands.

Now I’m definitely on the map! How many people can say that?

Mayne Island

I’d never Googled my name until I started writing this piece and was surprised to find it in the urbandictionary (I didn’t even knew one existed!). The Urbandictionary attributes its meaning to, among other things, a corruption of the word ‘man’ as in the movie Scarface and its use in the South. Of course, that makes absolutely no sense to me.

But I found two people with the same names as my uncles, Cuthbert and Seymour. Cuthbert, 1544-1577, was an English Roman Catholic priest and martyr (it took guts to be a Roman Catholic in England at that time), and Seymour, is a Canadian poet and literary translator. (I have some impressive shoes to fill!)

Mayne is said to be a derivation from the Latin magnus and the French magne which mean great, large, rich, powerful.

I’ve heard that there are Maynes in Spain, Australia, Canada, Venezuela, the US and Ghana. My family’s still unsure whether Mayne came to us through Scotland or Ireland — we’ve heard both. But following my journey of acceptance, it doesn’t matter much now where it came from. What matters is how I wear it.

To the Maynes everywhere!

 

 

Soulful Sundays – Cassandra Wilson

Posted on by Marcia Mayne

I could listen to Cassandra Wilson all day and not get bored. Her voice soothes, cajoles and stirs something deep within. I’ve been a fan for years but I’ve only seen her once in concert.

Cassandra Wilson photo courtesy of allstarshots

A jazz singer, songwriter, producer and vocalist with an incredible range, Cassandra Wilson blends blues and country easily into her music. She has recorded more than 20 albums and soundtracks and has won several awards, including two Grammys. In 2001, Time Magazine named her “America’s Best Singer.”

Cassandra Wilson was born in Jackson, Mississippi on December 4, 1955.

Give a listen to Until, one of my favorites.

 

Enjoy!

 

 

Sources: Wikipedia and allstarshots.com.

On the Great Lawn, That’s Where I’ll Be

Posted on by Marcia Mayne
Great Lawn, Central Park

It’s a beautiful day here in New York. Sunny, not too humid, with a gentle breeze. I can’t think of a better way to spend the day than on a blanket in Central Park.

I’m sure I won’t be the only one there so I’ll have to get there early and secure a nice spot on the Great Lawn.

The Great Lawn, one of the most famous lawns in the world, is located on 55 acres from 79th to 85th Streets.

The Great Lawn has been the venue for world class performances by the New York Philharmonic and the Metropolitan Opera.

On Monday, July 11th, opera lovers can attend a concert in the park. For details of the schedule, go here.

And for tickets and information on Shakespeare in the Park, check out their website.

I’ve packed the food, the blanket and my hat and I’m heading out to celebrate this beautiful day. Whatever you’re doing or plan to do, enjoy!