Has the fear (or the real possibility) of living in a semi-totalitarian country finally got to me? Last night, while asleep…….
I tell Edie that I might have to disappear for a while. She should not worry.
There is a man who looks pretty much like John Kerry (remember him?), who has expressed an interest in running for president. This has immediately put his life in danger, as all of us members of the political underground know.
One day, as he walks down a city street, he is surrounded by four men, dressed in dark colors, wearing masks. They look like they work for ICE. They surround and capture the Kerry look-alike (let’s just call him JK for simplicity) and take him away. It is clear that the administration has exacted revenge on a man who has threatened the right wing political status quo.
But, no! The populace is wrong. ICE has not captured JK. He has been abducted by four members of the political underground (let’s just call it PU, although that might not be the best smelling anagram), who bundle him into an unmarked van, drive quickly up a back alley, change cars, and then escort him to the service entrance of a fancy hotel.
They take him up to a “safe suite”, where he is met by a make up artist, a hair stylist, a vocal coach, a theatrical director, and more, who remake his appearance, change his voice, and alter his posture.
This is where I come in. I am sitting in a shiny black SUV in front of the hotel. JK (the revamped JK) walks out of the hotel lobby, climbs into the van, and we are off. We obey all the rules of the road, cross the Potomac and head to an airport in Manassas, where a private jet is waiting. JK and I board the plane, and seven hours later, we land in Shannon, and are whisked away to a comfortable, but modest house in the nearby Irish countryside, where guarded by military officers, JK is to make his home until he is out of danger. He will run for president from afar.
That is what I dreamed last night.
We went to a friend’s 75th birthday party yesterday afternoon. We knew most of the people there. Some we see now and then, and some not as often. But I talked to a lot of folks. And do you know what the biggest topic was? It was “age”. And the room was divided between those who thought that to be 75 was to be very old, and those who only wished they could be 75 again. I recalled that, a week or two ago, I had lunch with an old friend who, next month, will be turning 70. He asked me for my advice. That was an easy one. I told him “Enjoy your youth”.
Then we came home, had left over Indian food from Saturday night’s dinner at Delhi Spice (very good, thank you). The food was salmon curry and saag paneer, or spinach and cheese. I thought that we needed something cold and sweet to go with it, and looked to see what I could put together. I fondly remember Waldorf salads from my youth – the apples and nuts and mayonnaise (and the bits of celery that I pushed aside). So I took an apple, some nuts, some raisins (substituted for the unwanted celery), and some mayonnaise, adding honey (just because), and this became the perfect side dish for Indian food.
A digression: Maybe you know this already (or, more likely, maybe you don’t care about this at all), but do you know (1) that a Waldorf salad was named at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel in New York City, where it was first served, (2) that the Astoria in the name Waldorf-Astoria is from the Astor family, whose founder, the original John Jacob Astor was a fur trader in the northwest, (3) the Waldorf name comes from the German village of Waldorf (Forest Village auf Deutsch), where John Jacob Astor was born, and (4) originally there were two hotels, the Waldorf and the Astoria, built in the late 19th century next to each other by two cousins who apparently did not like each other at all. Go figure.
OK. After dinner, we actually turned on the Oscars and watched them from 7 until 10:38, when they ended 8 minutes late. I must say this: this was really a bad show. The host was hardly there, and the show better when he wasn’t. No one had an acceptance speech that was worth listening to. There was no drama. No surprises. The best things were the ads. Go figure.
That’s it. Not a profound post, I know. I need to get ready for a Haberman Institute Board Meeting Tonight. And, oh, yes, we may have a tornado.













