Phantoms of the Orchestra Present Soprano Johanna Fincher

After attending a few of the Charlotte Symphony Orchestra's concerts, I ponied up my $25 to become a member of the Phantoms of the Orchestra, the CSO's volunteer support organization. Being a member of the Phantoms has all kinds of fun benefits such as attending concert rehearsals and sporting your Phantoms signature scarf at the concerts. When I received an e-mail inviting me to the Phantom's inaugural Bach's Lunch featuring a performance by soprano Johanna Fincher, I decided to attend. 

When most people picture an opera singer, they envision a large man or woman, often wearing a Viking helmet complete with horns.  (OK, some people might think of Luciano Pavarotti in his tux but I prefer my vision!)  Either way, soprano Johanna Fincher does not fit this mold.    She is a gorgeous young woman.  As soon as she opens her mouth to sing, though, you have no doubt that she is the real deal.
 
Like any smart performer, Johanna started off her performance with a couple of crowd pleasers, "I Could Have Danced All Night" from My Fair Lady and "Think of Me" from Phantom of the Opera.  She then segued into some operatic material, including arias from Mozart's Magic Flute and The Marriage of Figaro.  Johanna introduced each number, giving the audience a bit of context.  Not being an opera buff, having this background helped me to appreciate each aria on a deeper level.  For instance, before she began her piece from Offenbach's Tales of Hoffman, Johanna explained that she was performing an aria sung by Antonia, a young woman suffering from consumption who couldn't resist singing despite having been told that it might put too much stress on her weakened body.  Johanna also shared that this aria was the piece that she performed nearly ten years ago for her audition with the Charlotte Symphony Orchestra.  She captured the role of Antonia, and this cemented her commitment to pursuing a musical career.   It's nice to feel that the CSO had a role in launching this young woman's career.  When you listen to her sing, you realize how a voice truly can be a musical instrument.  Not only does her voice have an incredible range, you feel the emotion of the role that she's playing, be it the sadness of Antonia or the joy of the mermaid from Haydn's "Mermaid Song" as she sings "Follow me, follow me, to where the rocks of coral grow." 

Johanna finished her performance with two wonderful pieces that showed off her range--"Summertime" from Porgy and Bess and Mozart's "Alleluia."   This is the third time in the last few months that I've heard renditions of "Summertime."   Canadian Brass included the number in its show at the Van Wezel last December and the Gulf Coast Symphony included it in its The Great Gershwin show in January.  Johanna's performance was head and shoulders above either of these versions.   It was truly wonderful and her voice showed both nuance and power.   Her performance of "Alleluia," which was dedicated to outgoing CSO Executive Director Chari Stanley-Leitch, was equally enjoyable and a bit of a teaser for the CSO's  performance in November of Mozart's Requiem, in which Johanna will perform. 

The luncheon was a real treat.  Johanna was terrific and the intimate venue of the Punta Gorda Historical Women's Club made me feel like an honored guest.  Plus we were supporting the Charlotte Symphony Orchestra.  There's no doubt that the inaugural Bach's Lunch was the start of a great new Phantoms tradition.

Postscript:  Florida Weekly published this post in its edition for the week of May 12th-May 18th!

Dragon Boat Racing with the Shanti Dragons

The Shanti Dragons post-race

A few weeks ago, I started seeing some publicity about "War on the Peace River," a Dragon Boat Festival that was going to be held in April.  I had absolutely no idea what a dragon boat festival was, but it sounded exotic and intriguing.  One morning before my Ashtanga class, I was asked if I'd be interested in participating in the Yoga Sanctuary's team in the Festival.   The basics were explained to me:  dragon boats are a type of boat that is raced by a 20 person team, no experience was required and it would just be a fun race that would last about two minutes.  Sounded pretty harmless to me, and I'm all about trying new experiences, so I signed on.  Little did I know what I was getting myself into! 

After committing to being on the team, I received a practice schedule--we would have three one hour sessions on the water to learn the strokes and sort it out.  I missed the first outing so I felt a bit behind when I arrived for the second team practice.   The rest of the crew had already practiced the starting sequence (five "long, hard" strokes, five faster, five faster still, then stroke, stroke, stroke) and knew the commands, which were reviewed by our drill master steerer.    All I can say is that rowing is seriously hard work.  My heart periodically felt like it might beat right out of my chest and I lost the ability to count strokes out loud somewhere around the one minute mark.  I had learned that we would have at least two races on the day of the Festival, three if we were competitive--I couldn't believe that we were going to have to do this multiple times in one day!  By the end of the practice, I was wet and exhausted and a bit stressed out.

To those of you who know me, it won't come as a surprise to hear that I didn't play any team sports when I was growing up.  The closest I came was being on a relay team when I ran track in junior high.   (In the interest of full disclosure, I joined the team in hopes of impressing a boy.  I don't expect that my skinned knees and elbows ended up being all that impressive.)    And I have to say that I didn't think about the implications of dragon boat racing being a team sport when I signed up to row with the Yoga Sanctuary team.  It wasn't until the morning of the Festival that I realized that if I ended up out of sync, it would affect the whole team's performance.  Yikes!

I got to Laishley Park around 8:30 and about an hour later made my way with the rest of the Shanti Dragons to the holding area to queue up for our first race.  I was in the second row (the "stroke" section) so I only had to watch the woman sitting in front of me to keep on pace.  We were racing against three other boats in our heat, including what turned out to be the winning boat from the Punta Gorda Club (which, I will note, had 12 men on it compared to the four men on our team).  The team was a bundle of nerves as we paddled our way out to the starting line.  We had been admonished to "keep our heads in the boat" and not worry about what the other teams were doing or listen to any of the ambient noise.  After we had lined up for the start, the horn blew and we were off.  I didn't look up the entire race but could hear the team beside us counting and it sounded like they were a bit behind us.  It felt like we were in sync and moving through the water well but it was hard to tell.   We were edged out in the last 50 meters by the Punta Gorda Club but we felt good about the race, especially when we found out that our time was a very respectable 1:58:13.

I'd by lying if I said that my competitive instincts didn't kick in at that point.  We had had no idea if we would be a fast team or just be able to make it across the finish line.  We were in a tough division (Fitness and Health) and ended up coming in third out of seven teams based on our time in the first race.  Overall, though, we had come in fourth out of the 25 community boats so all we had to do was kick it up a notch and we felt that we might have a chance at winning.

There was a lot of time before the second race--I'm talking three hours of time to just sit around and think about our next performance.  The boats that we had raced against in the first heat had been randomly assigned.  In the second race, we would be going against boats whose times were comparable to ours--one that had a faster time and one with a slower time as it turned out.  We rationalized that it would be good to have a boat slightly ahead of us so that we would push ourselves to overtake them.  When we were up, we paddled out to the start, conserving a bit more energy than we had the first time.  We got a poor start but had a strong finish.  We came in third in our heat and came off the boat feeling somewhat dejected.  When we learned we had shaved four seconds off our time in the first heat, though, we got pumped up.  Our captain told us she was sure that we would be fast enough to qualify for at least the consolation round (which would be the community boats with the fourth-sixth fastest cumulative times).

We did end up competing in the consolation round, and finished up our efforts with a fifth place finish overall.   The whole thing was an experience unlike any I've ever had before.  You could feel the comaraderie of our team develop over the course of the practices and even over the course of race day.   We felt a real sense of accomplishment at the end of each race, knowing that we had stayed more or less in sync and looked pretty darn good out there.  A big thanks goes out to the Draggin' Dragons, the local dragon boat club that got the Festival on the calendar and taught all the teams the ins and outs of dragon boat racing, with special thanks to Lynda, our team captain, and Cathy, our steerer extraordinaire.  There's no doubt that the Shanti Dragons will be a force to be reckoned with next year!

Pedaling down the Myakka River

Nope, this is not a typo!  I went on a kayak adventure this week to Snook Haven and borrowed a friend's kayak that you can either pedal or paddle.  It was a thing of beauty!  I'm getting ahead of myself, though.  The last few summers in Nova Scotia I've wanted to try kayaking.  People paddle around the Back Harbor behind our house and always look very peaceful and at one with nature.  Somehow, though, I've just never gotten organized to rent or borrow a kayak, find someone to show me the ins and outs, etc., etc.  One of the many monthly activities organized by members of the Isles Yacht Club is a kayak outing.  Someone plans the trip, and you can bring your own kayak or rent a kayak that will be delivered to you on site.  Any excuses I had for not giving a try were out the window.

April's kayak outing was a trip to Snook Haven on the Myakka River that was organized by the always game Bruce and Dorrit.  Knowing that I'd be in good hands, I signed up for the trip and a rental kayak.   My friend Stephanie heard that I had signed up for the outing (don't ever mistake Punta Gorda for anything other than a small town!) and she was planning to be out of town that day so she kindly offered her kayak for my use.  Murray, another IYC buddy, offered to go on a test run with me the day before the outing so that I could hit the water running (so to speak).  On Sunday morning I headed over to his place to check it out.   Once Murray showed me the basics, we were off for a quick ride around the canals.   The kayak is incredibly easy to maneuver and I felt that I could go all day.   I was ready to tackle the waters of Snook Haven.

We arrived at the "camp" bright and early Monday morning and got our gear unloaded.  (Actually, Murray and some of the other guys did most of the heavy lifting but I did look on encouragingly.)   We got my kayak in the water and I was off.  There was a bit of a problem initially--when I pedaled I went backwards!  Luckily, I was in earshot of instructions and just had to reinstall the pedals in the opposite direction.  With that difficulty behind me, I was off!

Snook Haven is located at the intersection of Charlotte Harbor and the Myakka River and it looks like something right out of Jurassic Park.   Not surprisingly, a couple of movies have been shot there, the most notable being the 1947 horror flick Revenge of the Killer Turtles.   It was a great morning.  We had no destination--we just paddled (or, in my case, pedaled) in one direction for an hour and then head back to the landing area for lunch.  We'd been promised  lots of alligators along the way (but assured that they would be of the friendly variety)   We did see one gator along the way sunning himself in the sun and I dutifully pedaled over to get a better look and a picture.  He looked at me in a bored manner and slithered into the water.  It was extremely anticlimactic, but in this instance I'd rather err on the side of uneventful. 

We lunched at the restaurant at the camp and it was definitely on the rustic side.  The food was perfectly fine, though, and everyone had a good time comparing their thoughts about the paddle and talking about their summer plans.   It was a perfect first kayak outing for me.   Great scenery, great company and a great kayak!  (Thanks again, Stephanie!)  I made it through the day using my paddle only to push off from shallow water and to maneuver the 20 feet in once I'd taken the rudder up (which wasn't pretty, let me tell you.)  Don't worry, though, I'm getting plenty of paddling in in my practices for the upcoming Dragon Boat Festival, which promises to be quite a day of racing and festivities.  Watch this space for the post-race report.

Alfred Hitchock Presents the Sarasota Orchestra

Long ago when Jay and I were dating, we saw the Boston Symphony Orchestra at Tanglewood perform a night of movie music composed by John Williams.   Williams also conducted that night, which was a huge treat.  A big screen had been erected so that we could see clips from the movies as the music was being played.  We laid on a blanket under the stars and watched Harrison Ford gallop away in Raiders of the Lost Ark and fight Darth Vader in Star Wars.    We watched ET bicycle across the sky and the dinosaurs of Jurassic Park roam their island.  It was an incredible evening and I still recall how magical it was almost 15 years later.  So, when I read that the Sarasota Orchestra was performing an evening of music from Hitchock movies, how could I resist???

Our host for the evening was John Goberman, the creator of Symphonic Cinema, a series of film/orchestra performances featuring music from movie soundtracks.  Goberman has an incredible resume.  Among other things, he created PBS' Live from Lincoln Center, has won 12 Emmy awards (53 nominations) and was named by Symphony Magazine as one of the 50 people who has made the most difference in American music.   Goberman served as narrator, telling the audience about the movies that we were going to see clips from and about Hitchcock himself.  He reminded us that music has always played an important role in the movies.  Even when movies were "silent," live music (initially played on a piano, later played on Wurlizter organs or by small musical groups) accompanied the action, enhancing the mood in the films and creating tension that the actors might not have been able to create on their own.   He talked about how music was incorporated into movies onscreen in the early days of talkies, with roaming musicians suddenly appearing in the countryside just at the right moment.  He shared that Hitchcock was one of the first to buck this trend in his movie, Lifeboat (1944).   When asked why there wouldn't be music in the movie, Hitchcock replied, "Where would the musicians come from?"  I don't know when directors realized that musicians did not need to physically appear in a movie in order for there to be music, but Hitchcock's movies from the early 1950s had soundtracks composed specifically for these films.

The evening included clips and music from To Catch a Thief, Dial M for Murder, North by Northwest, and Strangers on a Train.  It also included an ad made by Hitchcock for North by Northwest that was a travelogue of sorts of Alfred, his wife Alma, and their daughter Patricia traveling from the East Coast to--you guessed it--the Northwest.  It was fun to see clips from these great movies in this setting--watching Cary Grant in action is never a hardship!--but I had to keep reminding myself that I was there to appreciate the role that the music played in the films.

Movie soundtracks have come a long way since the 1950s.   The Hitchcock soundtracks certainly added to the suspensefulness of the pictures, but I didn't find the music nearly as impactful as the compositions of John Williams are in the movies whose scores he wrote.  I also enjoyed the variety of the music from the movies featured in the BSO concert much more than the evening of music from Hitchcock's films that, although wonderful, are all cut from the same cloth.

While the concert was fun (the audience clearly had a great time), I came away feeling that it was the movies that had been showcased rather than the music or the musicians.  As I was mulling it over, I began to wonder if the nature of Pops concerts creates this sort of tension, since they are intended to be crowd pleasers rather than nights of serious music.  Pops concerts have a well-established place in American music.  In 1881, Henry Lee Higginson, who was the founder of the Boston Symphony Orchestra (the BSO does seem to keep popping up!), wrote a letter to his board that he would like to introduce "concerts of a lighter kind of music."   It wasn't until Arthur Fiedler joined the BSO as Pops conductor in the 1930s, however, that Pops concerts really took off.  The intention was for the orchestra to play music that would be appealing to a broader audience, be it "lighter" classical music, songs from musicial theater or, yes, even music from movies.   Fiedler is credited with started the practice of holding Pops concerts on the Fourth of July, a tradition that our own Charlotte Symphony Orchestra has adopted.

Before the Sarasota Orchestra's performance began, its chief executive told us that the number of Pops concert subscribers doubled in the last year, from 400 to 800, and that the POPS:  Hitchcock performance was sold out.  In this day and age of tight budgets and greater competition for the audience's discretionary dollars, playing second fiddle to a Hitchcock movie might well be a trade off that musicians are happy to make in order to get people in the door for their performances.

Montreal with Mes Amies

Nanette, Ellen, Andrea and Suzanne at L'Hotel

It's almost impossible to believe that it's been 25 years since my first day on the job as a corporate lawyer at the now-defunct Breed, Abbott & Morgan.  I'm sure I was nervous on a number of levels.  Would I like being a lawyer?  Would I be good at it?  Would I enjoy working with the people there?  (I'm also sure I was wearing something frightfully Working Girl but I digress.)  Any fears I had would soon be assuaged--at least with respect to the people side of the equation.  I still remember another new lawyer named Ellen inviting me out for drinks after work with some other folks from the firm. I can't remember whether Suzanne (another baby lawyer) and Andrea (a seasoned third year associate) joined us that evening, but I do know that the four of us quickly became friends and have been friends ever since.

We decided to celebrate our 50th birthdays with a week-end get-away to Montreal.  This was no mean feat--Andrea is the general counsel of the US Tennis Association, Ellen and Suzanne each have four kids at home and I of course am very busy soaking up the sun in Punta Gorda.   But we managed to get it all together--and what a wonderful week-end it was!

Warhol's take on Marciano

When I was thinking about what to write, all I could really come up with was "Talk.  Walk.  Eat.  Laugh.  Repeat."    We arrived on Friday afternoon at L'Hotel, a boutique hotel in the Old Town of Montreal that we learned is owned by Georges Marciano of Guess jeans fame.   (Georges was actually on the premises and I had a quick chat with him in the elevator to tell him what a fantastic staff he has.  He was quite nice.)  Georges has decorated the lobby and corridors of the hotel with signed lithos and sculptures by artists from the 1970s Guess jeans era--Andy Warhol, Robert Rauschenberg, Jim Dine and Robert Indiana to name a few.  Music from the '70s is piped into the lobby, which makes you constantly feel like dancing.   No wonder the staff seems so happy to work there!

At Parc du Mont-Royal

The forecast for the week-end had not been good--chilly and rainy--but the weather gods smiled on us and arranged for perfect conditions for walking the city.  We took in Parc du Mont-Royal  ("Montreal"--get it???), enjoyed a great view of the City, and stopped in lots of interesting little shops along the way.  We had some great meals while we were there.  The first evening, after enjoying some music by a bossa nova trio at the hotel, we went to a trendy place called Restaurant L'Appartement.  I think we were the oldest people there but it was fun and the food was great!  The second evening was Modavie, another local place with a jazz trio providing the entertainment.

On Sunday night we went to Au Pied de Cochon, a hot restaurant that is a favorite of my friend Wendi.  (The chef at M. Wells-- where I had eaten the previous Thursday night in NY--came from PdC, as it's called.  Check out my post on "36 Hours in New York" to read about it.)   Everyone we mentioned our reservations at PdC to nodded knowingly (although they did seem to wonder how we had found our way to this place.)  Wendi had paved the way for our dining experience, pre-ordering starters of fried pork rinds (which kind of tasted like popcorn), codfish fritters (delicious!) and succulent foie gras poppers.  (Did I mention that the restaurant is known for its foie gras?)  From there it was on to the Plogue a Champlain, a decadent appetizer that included a homemade crepe at the bottom with, among other things, foie gras and an incredible sauce that incorporated maple syrup, and steak frites.  We had decided to do a birthday twist on Kris Kringle and had each been assigned the name of someone to bring a present for.  Lots of sentimentality ensued, with photos and frames and hand towels with sayings about friendship embroidered on.  Since it was my actual birthday, I was the recipient of a pink birthday tiara that I proudly wore throughout the evening.  By the time the complementary birthday dessert arrived (topped with a sparkler, which was much nicer than a big 5-0 candle), I had had the nicest birthday that I could possibly imagine.  

Montreal was a special place to celebrate my birthday--it's a great city and I'd love to go back sometime--but the really special thing was being able to spend time with these wonderful friends away from the demands of our everyday lives.  Talk. Walk.  Eat.  Laugh.   Repeat.  Really, who could ask for anything more? 

36 Hours in New York

Going back to New York is something of a bizarre experience for me.  On one hand, things are so familiar and welcome.  On the other hand, things are so different than life in Punta Gorda.  The streets are crowded with people of all ethnicities at all hours of the day and night. There are restaurants of every variety that you can imagine, theaters and galleries for your visual entertainment and of course the wonderful stores with all those items that you had no idea that you needed.   I'm finding that I love coming to New York as a visitor.  I can see my friends and do fun things without being on a train schedule or having to worry about traffic through the tunnel back home.  So when three of my friends and I decided to go to Montreal to celebrate our "big" birthdays, a stopover in New York on the way was in order.

I was on my own the first afternoon, and decided to go to see a movie at the Angelika.  One thing that I've yet to find in my new home is a theater that shows indie films, and I do miss that.  I went to see Win Win with Paul Giamatti (of Sideways fame and, incidentally, the son of Yale President and MLB Commissioner Bart Giamatti.)  What a great flick!  Laugh out loud funny at some points, introspective at others, with a cast of quirky characters that you can't help but like.  I was tempted to sneak into another film when Win, Win was over, but I'm just not that much of a rule breaker.    Dinner was at an Asian-fusion place around the corner from my friend Andrea's apartment then we settled in for an evening of American Idol.

The next day my friend Wendi and I toured a few exhibits at art galleries in Chelsea for her "Art of Viewing Art" class at the New School.   Each week her homework assignment is to go to specific exhibits at galleries or museums in the City that will be discussed in that week's class.  Fun!!!  You quickly realize that going to a gallery to view an exhibit is an entirely different beast than going to a museum and the experience itself is one of the topics discussed in the class.  The galleries in Chelsea are somewhat inhospitable.  Many are behind metal doors that you practically need a special knock to get into.  The sense you get is that you have to be in the "know" to even view the exhibit.  The exhibits we saw were very avant garde and difficult to place in a context.  As Professor Zissner said, these galleries have moved beyond "the mere mortal concerns of 'who wants this in their living room?'" and are advancing "art" for art's sake.   I found the exhibits interesting if not aesthetically pleasing but don't think I would enjoy seeing them without the benefit of a tutorial.  The art we viewed is difficult to describe, but here are a couple of highlights:

Kilminck's Avengers Exhibit

--Karen Kilmnick's scatter art used the "Hellfire Episode" from the 1960s British TV show The Avengers as its inspiration.  In Zinsser's discussion of this work, he mentioned that Kilminck is a meek woman who lives in suburbia with a washer-dryer and a driveway, at which point the members of the class laughed derisively.  Was I the only suburbanite on hand?  In any event, I don't really get why this qualifies as art but some of her work goes for hundreds of thousands of dollars, so there you have it.

--Gary Hill's exhibit included a 3D video (for which you donned the original 3D glasses) of a gentleman speaking in tongues and analyzing what we learned in class was the molecule for LSD.  I didn't understand this exhibit either, but Hill was named a MacArthur Fellow in 1998, so obviously the deficiency is on my end.  (MacArthur Fellows awaken one morning to receive an unsolicited call from the MacArthur Foundation telling them that their work is very important and here's $500K to go forth and create.)

 --David Wojnarowicz' collection of works contained an image of Christ on a crucifix with ants crawling on him that was pulled from a recent exhibit at the National Portrait Gallery in Washington, D.C. entitled "Hide/Seek:  Difference and Desire in American Portraiture". Admittedly, I am not particularly religious but the image was not offensive to me, just bizarre.  In my mind, this does not compare to Robert Mapplethorpe's explicit images that caused so much controversy in the early 1990s and I have to think that it was the theme of the exhibit combined with the specific image that triggered the uproar. 

Devin and Hugue at M Well

That night I went with Wendi, her significant other Lee and another friend to the cool and hip restaurant M. Wells in Long Island City.  The restaurant was written up in the NY Times in January as one of the "ten restaurants in the world worth flying to eat at" and received a 2 star rating from the NY Times restaurant critic just last week.  (The review is so well written and has such a great story that it made me really excited about eating there.  Check it out at http://www.nytimes.com/2011/04/06/dining/reviews/06rest.html?_r=2.)    Just to add to the buzz, Hugue Dufour (who owns the restaurant with his wife Sarah) stars in a reality TV show in Canada called Wild Chef that people are, well, wild over.  Wendi and Lee are good friends with Sarah, Hugue and all the rest of the staff and have given the restaurant their stamp of approval.  (Being James Beard House regulars, this actually means something.)  So my expectiations were quite high. 

Russian Breakfast

The evening was lots of fun.  The menu is eclectic in the extreme.  They sent us a special appetizer to start with that was a kitchen sink medley of rock shrimp, apples and lots of other interesting stuff on a homemade pancake.   We were then into escargot with bone marrow (I tried to cut into the bone, rube that I am), "butter" chicken, which is a take on chicken tikki masala, whelks and blood sausage with potatoes, Russian breakast and veal brains (which I wasn't brave enough to try).  We passed on the "tripe as pasta" dish, but Lee assures me it is delicious.  The restaurant was a very happening place, and I have to admit to feeling quite a bit out of my element. With all of my senses satisfied by the activities of the last 36 hours I headed back to Andrea's apartment for a good night's rest before heading off to Montreal.

The Interpretation of Murder by Jed Rubenfeld

Freud (front row, far left) and some of his followers at Clark

The father of all psychoanalysis, Sigmund Freud, made a lone visit to the United States in 1909 to give a series of lectures at Clark University. In The Interpretation of Murder, Jed Rubenfeld weaves a story that posits why this visit was the only time Freud's feet touched American soil.  The book starts with these thought provoking words:  "There is no mystery to happiness.  Unhappy men are all alike.  Some wound they suffered long ago, some wish denied, some blow to pride, some kindling spark of love put out by scorn--or worse, indifference--cleaves to them, or they to it, and so they live each day within a shroud of yesterdays.  The happy man does not look back.  He doesn't look ahead.  He lives in the present.   But here's the rub.  The present can never deliver one thing:  meaning.  The ways of happiness and meaning are not the same.  To find happiness, a man need only live in the moment; he need only live for the moment.  But if he wants meaning--the meaning of his dreams, his secrets, his life--a man must reinhabit his past, however dark, and live for the future, however uncertain.  Thus nature dangles happiness and meaning before us all, insisting that we choose between them."  

This passage could certainly put off some readers--do I really want to spend my time contemplating Freudian theories AND the meaning of life?  Rest assured that while Freud's Oedipal theory is one element of the story, Rubenfeld also incorporates history, a significant amount of action and some strong writing into a book that is ultimately an intellectual thriller.  Take, for instance, the way that Rubenfeld sets the stage of New York in the early 1900s.  We are in a world where the horse drawn carriage competes for the road with the automobile and skyscrapers are a recent addition to the skyline.  When telling us about the apartment building where the to-be-interpreted murder occurs, we learn that it is a 17-story building, higher than any residential building previously constructed.    It is a time when the debutante season is an important part of society and the Astors and the Vanderbilts vie for recognition as the reigning royalty of New York, throwing lavish balls in the grand ballrooms in the hotels of New York.  We learn--in a dramatic fashion--about the pneumatic caisson, an invention that created space accommodating workmen at the bottom of the East River, enabling the construction of the suspension bridges connecting Manhattan with the outer boroughs and leading to the development of "caisson disease" or, as familiarly known to divers, the "bends." 

The cast of characters is chock full of historical figures, including Freud's heir apparent Carl Jung, the "Triumvirate" of neurologists who were staunchly opposed to Freud's theories, and Henry Kendall Thaw, the multi-millionaire industrialist who murdered the Beaux Arts architect Stanford White in a fit of jealousy.  (The trial is often referred to as the "Trial of the Century" and can be read about at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harry_Kendall_Thaw .  Truly fascinating stuff.)    Many of the events and places in the book are historically accurate, including some pretty interesting conversations between Freud and Jung.  And for Shakespeare buffs, Rubenfeld throws in some serious consideration of Hamlet's "to be or not to be" soliloquy.

The story itself is engaging, complicated and somewhat risque.  It has lots of twists and turns, and a true surprise ending.  Interpretation of Murder is a unique read that reflects the author's background.  Rubenfeld is a professor of constitutional law at Yale who wrote his senior thesis at Princeton on Freud.  He also studied Shakespeare at the Julliard School.  (I am wondering if this guy could actually have more impressive and varied credentials!)   All in all, a satisfying page turner.

Bike Florida 2011 -- High Springs Adventure, Day 3

The final day of our bike trip was the real deal.  Knowing that we had 50 miles to ride, we got an early start (okay, it was 9:00) after fortifying ourselves with a huge breakfast at the Santa Fe Cafe.  The weather was amazingly cooperative--there had been a major thunderstorm during the middle of the night that had cooled things off even more and it was in the high 50s.  Jackets were even required!

Our first stop was O'Leno State Park.  The highlight of our visit to the Park for us was a trip across the swinging suspension bridge.  It was much sturdier than the suspension bridge I visited in Myakka State Park (which could accommodate only three people at a time) but still would not have been much fun in a high breeze. We learned that the Park is named after a now-defunct town named Leno ("Old Leno" became "O'Leno").  Originally, the town was called Keno after the gambling game that is still played today.  This seems like a strange namesake to me, and religious and commercial townspeople felt the same way, forcing the name change in 1876.    The Park looked like it had some nice areas to explore but we had a long day ahead of us so we didn't waste any time in getting back on the road.

Our next stop was Ichetucknee Springs State Park.  You could hear me coming as I rode into the parking lot by the rest area--my brakes had been squealing all day, which we attributed to the rain overnight.  As I pedaled in, a guy asked me if I wanted help with my brakes.  Yes, please!  One of the benefits of going on the Bike Florida ride rather than riding on our own was having both a sweep van that could pick us up if we wimped out and mechanics that could help with issues that arose while we were on the road.  Alexi was terrific and he quickly "toed-in" my brakes and checked out Pam's and LaNae's bikes for any issues.  Like many of the folks we met while on the trip, he was a volunteer who loves biking and just wanted to help out.  (He has a business making custom bikes which I will now plug because he was so helpful and rather dashing, in that scruffy, outdoorsy kind of way.  It's http://villincycleworks.com/ .)

We made stops at the rest areas at both the northern and southern ends of Ichnetuckee Park. The southern rest stop has easy access to two of the nine springs that are in the Park.   (A mind boggling 233 million gallons of water flow from the springs in the Park daily.)  The water is beautiful and clear and you can see why this area is a mecca for tubers and kayakers.   (People do swim there as well but the "Alligators--Swim with Caution" sign would make me just the tiniest bit hesitant!)

When we left the Park, we still had 20 miles to ride before getting back to our car.  The first 30 miles hadn't been too difficult, but the last 20 were a bit tough going.  It seemed like we were biking into the wind no matter which direction we were heading. (I know, I sound like the old timer who walked to school uphill both ways in the snow with no shoes on but that's how it felt.)  Pam, who has been taking spinning classes, got up a good head of steam and took the lead.  LaNae, who has been babysitting her grandchildren for the past five weeks, contemplated the sweep van but did not give in.  I held my own but noticed that people had quit telling me how comfortable I looked on my bike and started telling me how whipped I looked.  Less than two hours later, we were back at our cars, legs a bit wobbly but feeling quite accomplished.   

Nobody would mistake the Bike Florida trip for a Backroads vacation but it was an easy and inexpensive way to participate in an organized ride and get an introduction to biking in Florida.  More importantly, it was a great opportunity to spend some time with friends away from our every day lives and responsibilities.  I came back to Punta Gorda physically tired but mentally rejuvenated--who could ask for anything more? 

Bike Florida 2011, High Springs Adventure -- Day 2

Steve at the Santa Fe Cafe

Pam, LaNae and I woke up ready to put our pedals to the metal and get moving.    Unfortunately, registration--which was where we would get our route information--was not until 12:00.  (The Bike Florida team had to see the riders off from Gainesville, get over to High Springs and get organized before welcoming the bikers joining the ride.)  Our hotel was about 3 miles from the registration site so we decided that we would do some exploring on our bikes before we started the organized ride.  Just as we were about to head out, it started to torrentially rain.  Time to rethink this plan!   We decided instead to drive with our bikes and gear to a breakfast spot to figure out our morning.  The first place we came upon was the Santa Fe Cafe and we pulled in.  What a find!  There was no cereal or fruit or anything resembling healthy food on the menu so we had to succumb to the offerings of homemade biscuits and gravy, eggs, grits and our morning ration of pork fat.  We met Steve, one of the owners, and learned the story of the cafe, which is named for the nearby Santa Fe River.  When Steve and his brother were children, they decided to fix their parents breakfast in bed one morning.  This was so well-received that they took to creating hand scribbled menus for the family dinner (which happily coincided with the meal that their mother was preparing).  From there a business was born, and we were the beneficiaries on each morning of our stay.

By the time we were done with our leisurely breakfast, it was 11:00 so we went over to the registration site to find out if we could check in early.  We were in luck!  We collected our tee shirts and route maps and set off to Alachua, where we would turn around and ride back to High Springs, presumably with some of the 450 riders coming from Gainesville.  We had a bit of trouble figuring out the directions and I learned that my friend Pam is very man-like in this regard and does not like to ask for assistance.   After riding around somewhat aimlessly for about an hour, we came upon a rest stop that was set up in the center of town for the bikers coming from Gainesville. Eventually, we got headed in the right direction, and people riding all sorts of bikes--including one tandem recumbent bike--began passing us going the other way.   Once we got to Alachua and started talking with the volunteers at the rest stop there, we learned that we were the ONLY riders that had come from High Springs that day!!!  In fact, the people who were responsible for setting up the signs identifying the route had not been told that there were riders coming from the other direction so no markers had been set up.  (Let me tell you, it was remarkably easier on the way back!)   We found the next day that it was better to follow the signs than the written instructions--there were a number of instances in which the directions said to go left when they should have said right and vice verse--so we felt much better about the problems we had figuring out the route early on in the ride.

All in all, though, it was a fun day.  The ride was in a pastoral area with lots of cows and flowers and the weather turned out to be perfect for an afternoon on a bike--overcast and in the low 70s.  Alachua felt like old time Florida with its single row of shops in town and its drive-through burger joint with picnic tables out front.  I was struck by the amount of blue and orange Florida Gator memorabilia that we saw both in town and on the ride until I remembered the proximity to Gainesville.  (As I looked a bit more into the history of the area where we were biking, I learned that it was founded by the Oconee Indians, who were the original Seminoles.  Anyone who knows about college football in the State of Florida knows that the University of Florida Gators and the Florida State Seminoles are bitter rivals so I found a bit of humor in this.)  In any event, the 30 mile ride was remarkably easy on my new Giant hybrid bike and I would be remiss not to put in a plug for Acme Bicycle Shop in Punta Gorda.  The folks there were incredibly helpful in fixing me up with the right bike and making all the necessary adjustments so that the ride would be comfortable.   This was a good thing, because the short option for the next day's ride was 50 miles!  With that information in mind, we had a quiet meal at a local diner (fried chicken with another biscuit for me) and tucked ourselves in for a good night's rest.