A difficult question. . .

My old friend Marty Kahn called me this morning to consult on a very important matter. . .what to do with all his old ski equipment and ski clothes that he hasn't used or worn for several years but just can't get himself to throw or give away.  I totally understood his problem.  Both of us have come to the realization that our skiing days are over, but not without a struggle. Mainly, I think, because we're forced to acknowledge that if either of us took a header on the slopes, we'd both have a helluva time getting back up.

Marty called me for my opinion because we have "history"when it comes to skiing.  That's because back umpteen years ago when I turned 50, I decided the ex and I should learn to ski. The ex was a Bronx boy who had never even been on a mountain, but he was game to try.  Although I went to college in snowbound Syracuse, nice Jewish girls didn't do stuff like that in those days, so obviously, I was pretty mature when I decided to suddenly become an athlete.  Marty and his late wife Nancy were our close friends, and if the Spectors were going to learn to ski, I insisted the Kahns followed suit.  And ski we did, all over the world together, on many great occasions.

Today, Marty is a very respected retired judge.  We actually met more than 40 years ago when he served as City Attorney for the City of North Miami and I was the Public Relations Director for that municipality.  Times have changed for our old home town as well.  Today it is the largest Haitian community in the U.S.

I wasn't much of a help in answering Marty's questions on what to do with all his "stuff".  I still have a pair of skis leaning against the side wall of my storage locker downstairs in my condo building, just in case.  I did send a lot of my ski clothes to my surrogate daughter Allison when she was living in Colorado, but I admit to being unable to part with my favorite red velvet ski jacket , that is still hanging in my closet, just in case it ever snows in Miami, or I happen to find myself on top of a mountain in Switzerland.  (  Yeah, that's me in the photo, wearing my favorite, on top of some mountain.)

Hope springs eternal.
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Photo caption:

A trip back in time. .

My friend Sheila and I went to the Annual Gifford Lane Art Stroll today.  Gifford Lane is a throwback to Coconut Grove in the early 60's.  The houses on the street are all small wood cottages, surrounded by huge shade trees and overgrown shrubs. You can't exactly call it landscaping, it's more like Nature made the decisions as to what went where and the homeowners came along for the ride.

We went for the art, but the atmosphere of this quiet little street in Center Grove, particularly during Art Stroll,  is simply marvelous.  At one point, we were invited into a home where the owner had her art on display throughout this typical 60's cottage which is exactly as it must have looked then, sans air conditioning, (that was only for the wealthy in those days), and today's inevitable computer and printer on the owner's desk.  For a donation to some local charity, I can't remember which at the moment, Sheila and I each enjoyed a frosty "cucumber & gin" drink, that was ladled out of a huge glass bowl and was absolutely wonderful.  That's me gratefully drinking up in the back yard of the house. (For you guys reading this up North, welcome to South Florida. . it's 80 degrees and getting hot here today.)

As usual, dogs were everywhere, all getting along wonderfully.  Do you have to guess what I had for lunch?  I have to either give up going to art shows or get help for my arepa addiction.

For those of us who remember Coconut Grove as a bucolic, artsy little village, Gifford Lane is truly a trip back in time.  Today the Grove is super sophisticated with multi-million dollar condos going up everywhere you look along Bayshore Drive with its coveted view of Biscayne Bay.  I guess it's a sign of age, but it is fun to remember.
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Informality is the order of the day.

Drinking up my Gin and Cucumbers!

Only in The Grove. . the line under Medical Marijuana jars reads "I guess you could put other stuff in them!"

                                                                             

Six degrees of separation. . .

I've never been to the Academy Awards and doubt that I will ever get there, but it's fun to know that someone close to your family was not only there on Sunday night but actually played a part in the winning of one of the Oscars!

That's my "surrogate son-in-law", Jon Ostrin, holding John Legend's "Oscar", just won as "Best Original Song" for Legend's and Common's incredibly moving song, "Glory".  Jon is the husband of daughter Andrea's half sister (and my "surrogate daughter")  Allison, and works as Legend's personal
sound engineer.  So he was backstage overseeing the sound system as Legend ad Common brought the audience to its feet with their stirring rendition of the song they wrote for the movie "Selma" about that historic march.

Jon has traveled the world with JL, as he calls him, this past year.  He was on the bridge with him in Selma, they've been all over Europe, been to Australia and Korea.  I know, because I play "Words With Friends" with Jon on a regular basis and every once in a while I will text him and say "Where are you, Jon?"  iPhones don't differentiate about continents.  We take turns winning and losing, whether he's in Korea or back in the USA.

Jon posted this photo on his Facebook page with the caption, "I've got the best gig!".    Sure looks like it, Jon.

I'm back in the animal kingdom. . . .

I think I've found my niche in the art world.  Michaelangelo painted ceilings.  Andy Warhol painted soup cans. I paint animals.  Mostly dogs and cats with a bird or two thrown in here and there.

My newest art class at Fairchild Tropical Botanic Gardens is taught by a wonderful artist named Mai Yap, who is determined to get me to slow down when I paint.  This session I am dutifully trying to master the art of going slow, paying attention to details, stop turning out three canvases to everyone else in the class's one.  I marvel at my very talented classmates ability to spend weeks on perfecting one leaf.  As my friend Paul likes to say, "Patience is not Joan's strong suit."

Max Binder

Last week my niece Vicki called me with a sob in her voice that her beloved dog, Max, had just passed away and would I paint his portrait for her and her husband Larry.  Max's photo arrived via e-mail and I started sketching right away. With class coming on Thursday, I knew I would have to tell Mai that patience will have to wait for a week.  I've got to paint Max.  And paint I did, with my classmates marveling once again that I started and finished in the 3 hour session.

Below are just a few of my "animal kingdom".  What can I tell you.  I can't help it.  I love animals.
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Louie Ostrin

Apollo Sotelo

Leo Pantine-Parrish

J.W. Rosenblatt

Layla Anker

Newman

Jake & Zoey Anker

Punim

Charcoal of Bodhi Ostrin

The Anhinga

Max Ceglia (done with palette knife)

Wasabi Spector (done with a palate knife)

Canine art at the Beaux Arts Festival

I made my annual visit to the Beaux Arts Festival at the University of Miami yesterday.  As usual, the art was very interesting.  Some great, some not so great.  It was a gorgeous day, not too hot, and the UM campus was thronged with visitors, both two-legged and four-legged.

After a while, and after munching one of my much loved arepas, plus pigging out on frozen rasberry yogurt on a stick,  dipped in melted chocolate,
 and then rolled in sprinkles and chopped peanuts, (ok, I'm starting my diet today), I became absolutely fascinated with the dogs who were absolutely every where you looked.  Miami loves dogs.  Big, small and in-between.

So pardon me for not photographing the painted art this year.  I just couldn't resist these cuties.

Fly safely, my loved ones. . .

My great-grandson Grayson is on his first plane ride with his Mommy and Daddy as I write this.  I pray that it is a safe and happy journey.  Grayson is a beautiful, happy little boy.  He is also autistic.

His parents, my grandson Adam and his awesome wife, Amy, were very worried how he would react to his first flight.  I'd like to share with you how they planned for this adventure.

On the plane!

 Here is what Adam posted about the experience so far:

Grayson's first flight flight update #4. On the plane. Goody bags we made for people around us. Already received such good feedback. People are so accepting when you are open about your situation.

Thoughts on the New Year. . .

“Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, the last of life, for which the first was made. . . "                     Robert Browning

If I had the opportunity to meet the revered British poet who wrote those words, my response, I am afraid, would be "Bullshit, Mr. B.  You don't know what you are talking about." 

I'm allowed to write this from my perch as an octogenarian and a half, because I am one of the lucky healthy ones.  There is nothing wonderful or happy about seeing your loved ones, the people you grew up with, the people you shared your life with, become ill and pass away.

While I have much to be thankful for in this New Year. . a wonderful loving daughter, my very dear grandson Adam, his wife Amy, my beautiful great-grandson Grayson, and my remarkable big sister Fran, . . I am still dealing with the loss of my oldest and dearest friend Judy, in mid-December.

Back in high school in my hometown of Mt. Vernon, just a 35 minute train ride into New York City, we were part of "our crowd". . .the so called "popular Jewish girls" (as opposed to the equally popular Christian girls.)  Political correctness had not yet arrived in the 1940's.   Judy and I literally grew up together.  We lived in the same apartment house.  Walked to school together every day. (Only nerds took the bus.) Went to Syracuse University together.  And actually introduced each other to our first husbands!  More importantly, even though we've lived many states apart for decades, we've stayed bff's. . best friends forever.

One by one, the members of "our crowd" have left us. . there are only three of us left. . me and the Sonnenblick twins, Jean and Muriel.  We are the lucky ones.  We've all had a great life and I'm not complaining.  Just don't think Robert Browning had it quite correct.

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