First question for a Monday morning. What is the national dish of Iran? If you Google the question, you get Gormeh Sabzi, which makes you hungry just looking at the pictures. (I know, you never heard of Gormeh Sabzi, and if you were asked to identify Gormah Sabzi, you would have said something like: the national hero of Albania?)

But as of this morning, Gormeh Sabzi has been replaced as Iran’s national dish. It has been replaced by TACO, named not after an Albanian hero, or even after a Persian rug, but after our very own Donald Trump. Trump Always Chickens Out. After promising to destroy Iran’s energy infrastructure if the Strait of Hormuz was not opened by this evening EDT, Trump has given the Iranians 5 more days.

Not only that, but he has given them 5 more days on the basis of the very positive talks the United States has had with the Iranians yesterday. Okay, it is true that the day before yesterday, Trump said he couldn’t be expected to have any talks with the Iranians because everyone worth speaking with (sorry, talking to, or lecturing) had been killed, and there was no one left to talk to. But, apparently, among the 93 million inhabitants of the land three times the size of Ukraine, someone was been found with a telephone (or maybe even a Zoom account) and the ability to speak in English.

I mention a telephone or a Zoom account because obviously (well, maybe that is too strong a word), Steve Witcoff (whose parents once bought a Persian rug) or Jared Kushner (whose parents once considered buying a Persian rug) did not spend the weekend in Iran enjoying Gormeh Sabzi.

So the question is: with whom did which Americans speak? I wondered about that, and wondered if, as a part of his TACO move, Trump just made up the talks. I will be honest, and tell you that I didn’t really think this, but when I just looked up details about the conversations, I found the BBC reporting that apparently no such talks took place.

TACO. TACO. TACO. Of course, TACO is one of Trump’s better qualities. Otherwise, where would we be?

Before the lack of communications with Iranian officials took place, I did wonder what could have been discussed, and would could have made Trump so optimistic that he would decide to give Iran at last 5 more days of electricity. Before I tell you what I concluded, think about this yourself. What could Trump have heard that would have made him so optimistic?

The cynics among you might have said: well, this gives our three warships and 2500 Marines time to get to the Persian Gulf so that they could go into action when Iran has been so crippled that they can no longer use their Zoom accounts. And you may be correct.

The more practical among you might have said: well, Iran must have realized that they were going to lose Kharg Island anyway, so that they have agreed, in return for peace, to give up Kharg Island to the United States, which will take it first as a territory and later as the 56th state, behind Venezuela, Cuba, Greenland, Canada and Puerto Rico, but well ahead of the District of Columbia.

But here is what I was thinking: if the Iranians were able to convince Trump to give them 5 more days of electricity, they must have offered something very very important to him. What could be so important that it would convince Trump that Iran’s energy infrastructure should be spared (for almost a whole week!!)? I think that Iran has agreed to abolish mail-in voting. A sea change in the position of the Islamic Republic.

Switching subjects (I am happy to say), I am happy to say (yes, that bears repeating) that we attended Theater J yesterday and saw a production of Jonathan Spector’s Eureka Day, which I enjoyed completely. We had seen the play in the Mosaic Theatre production in 2019, and it was equally enjoyable then (perhaps more so, because I did not know what to expect). It’s a long one-act play about a private school in the San Francisco Bay area, which prides itself on inclusivity, individual choice, and social justice. And then it is hit by a epidemic of mumps, receives a health department directive that the school is to be closed and no students allowed back until they have received all of the recommended vaccines, and discovers that almost half of the children have not been vaccinated. What to do? And, yes, it is a comedy. A great, and more than timely, show.

We also started watching Ripley last night, an 8 episode, black and white adaptation of Patricia Highsmith’s The Talented Mr. Ripley, which was also adapted for film in 1999. I think it is a little slow, but so far worth watching and I think we will see the 6 remaining episodes. It takes place in the Amalfi Coast village of Altrani (yes, a real place), with occasional excursions to Naples. The time is the early 1950s.

I have been in Naples, I think, three times. First, in 1962. Second, in the early 1970s. Finally, on just a day trip from Rome, with Edie, Michelle and Hannah (and my sister Joan) around 1990.

I remember thinking, from my first two visits, how chaotic (and fascinating) Naples was. I remember a New Yorker article 50 or 60 years ago, which called Naples a city undergoing a nervous breakdown, and I agreed completely. I remember many details about my first two visits, and they include a late night taxi ride across the city (was I by myself or with someone?), and the taxi fare increasing (no meter, just conversation) as we went along. I remember wondering if we were even going where we were supposed to be going. I remember getting concerned (even beyond the money) about the driver. I remember him saying that if I (we?) didn’t want to pay the fare he was charging, he would let us off right where we were, and we would be lucky if we ever made it to our destination that time of night.

The problem is that I remember this both distinctly and vaguely. Edie thinks I am imagining it, or it was a dream. Maybe, but…..I know I (we?) got to where we were going ( to my (our) pensione, is that the word?) safe and sound.

I always wanted to go back to Naples for more than a night or two. One more thing that ain’t gonna happen.