2010. APRIL 14-17 DELAWARE/LAKEWOOD. APRIL 17-24 NYC

April 14-17. Delaware/Lakewood, NJ. April 17-24 NYC. (Pics at Flickr. reuel@att.net p. rko92103)

Subject: My trip to the east coast by Bob Grinchuk

Happy cocktail hour,

Just six on the west coast, so I'm on my first glass of cheap white wine. I knew a restaurateur, now deceased, who had his staff wear t-shirts the said "Life is too short to drink cheap wine." He's right, but I still drink my Two Buck Chuck. So much for connoisseurship from He Who Owns a Wine Bar.

I enjoyed the east coast foray. We flew to Philadelphia on a red eye, got there about 7 a.m., picked up a car and I drove (with Reuel) to Newark, DE. By the way, that's pronounced New-Ark, not New-Erke; the natives are quite particular about the pronunciation.. We found our motel, an inexpensive Ramada with free breakfast AND room service. We love room service.

After a rest and a conversation with Reuel's sister-in-law, we drove to Winterthur, the DuPont mansion chock full of early American antiques. Winterthur has one of the great Americana collections and is regarded by AmerStuds as a holy place. I worshiped at the splendor of the period rooms, lovingly constructed by the last owner, Francis DuPont, God and Mammon. They have a graduate program in museum-ology (or artifactmanship) that's one of the best in the country. Our guide was a charming graduate student (of the female variety, not that we held it against her). The rooms we saw on the general admission ticket were extraordinary. The grounds, also lovingly designed by Mr. DuPont, were magnificent, just coming into early spring bloom. Had a lovely lunch in the cafe and explored the Campbell (Soup) tureen collection. A whole wing, no less. (DuPont sired at least one child, but he had a gay sensibility.)

That evening we had dinner with Dorothy and her 98-year-old father at IHOP, as the old guy currently refuses to eat much more than pancakes when he goes out. Reuel tried to order an alcoholic drink and the trailer-trash waitress blanched and giggled. So much for civilization. The old guy is quite sweet and, though feeble, has most of his marbles, so dinner was okay. Once they dropped us off, we walked to the local mall and bought vodka (Reuel) and wine (me) and spent the rest of the evening in front of the tv. Lovely.

Next day, sister-in-law Dorothy picked us up early for the two-hour drive to Lakewood, New Jersey, and the unveiling. Seven of us in a pitiful cemetery desperately needing attention. We stood around and once Dorothy took off the cloth that covered the tombstone, we put stones on it (a custom indicating we'd visited) and reminisced about Arthur, the deceased. The day was appropriately gray and off-putting. Next off to lunch at Charley Brown's, an east coast chain, for its salad bar, etcetera. I had a burger and fries AND a glass of cheap wine, as I wasn't driving. It rained on the way back to Newark, an unhappy occurrence as we were on the road during drive time. Back at the Ramada, we ordered room service, ordering a bottle of wine. Since they're a simple people, the kitchen sent us a bottle but no corkscrew. The problem soon resolved, we drank, drank, drank.

The next day Dorothy was able to find day care for her dad, so she took us to another DuPont house at Hagley Mills on Brandywine creek. Here the DuPonts manufactured gunpowder during the 19th century. A fast-flowing stream, trees in bloom, magnificent grounds. I'd forgotten what Spring is like on the east coast.You feel like you've earned it after winter. Of course, the same thing is true in MN. There's also an 18th century house lived in by the DuPont family that, though modest, was charming, filled of course with 18th and 19th century stuff. So much stuff.

Then back to Newark, a college town, for lunch at a pleasant restaurant recommended by Dorothy. When we finished, Dorothy drove us to the Amtrak station where we caught the train the NYC, about a two hour trip. I LIKE trains. The little engine that could....

We got to NYC, taxied to our abode, met the landlord's girlfriend, unpacked, and ran out to the 1/2 price ticket booth and bought tickets for our first Broadway show, Enron, a play about Enron. Interesting play, innovatively staged with good acting--but finally an rxtended economics lesson. I don't regret having seen it, but I wouldn't recommend it either. We saw it just before it opened, so we agreed with the critics who found it interesting but wanting.

We saw nine shows, not a record, but okay. A person can do better in London, which has matinees on curious days and shows around 5. Not that
play-going is a marathon (though it might be for the obsessed Reuel).

We also saw: Promises, Promises, a new revival of the Bachrach show of 40 years ago; the newest revival of La Cage aux Folles with Kelsey Grammer (really good); Collected Stories (a play about a writer and her thieving protege), only moderately interesting; two gay plays Next Fall (death and religion: yuck) and The Tempermentals, about the creation of the Mattachine Society, an early gay group (excellent play), Sondheim on Sondheim, the newest tribute to an American master (great singing paired with documentary film: an unhappy wedding of genres); Red, a play about Mark Rothko and his interaction with his assistant (Brilliant), and Next to Normal, the Pulitzer-prize-winning rock musical (neither of us liked it much; so there Pulitzer Prize committee). And that's how we spent out time.

Though, since I've already spoken of sacred places, I admit we made a pilgrimage to the newly-reopened American wing at the Metropolitan. It's great, but so was our boozey lunch in the Sculpture Court. Scholarship and booze mesh nicely.

We also walked in Central Park and explored the streets of Hells Kitchen (aka Clinton) where we rented a tiny but pleasant apartment, the cheapest way of staying in NY.

We also spent an afternoon in Jersey City, not because I wanted to visit St. Peter's but because Reuel lusted for his old neighborhood. In case you've forgotten, the apartment building in which he grew up over-looked St. Peter's and, when I was there, had become a SPC office building. I felt little, but he was moved by the old nabe and how it had changed. He documented it all with his point-and-shoot. The college is now locked up like a safe, which suggests something about this part of JC.

OMG, time for dinner.

Bye,
Bob