The blonde's famous peach blueberry pie, fresh out of the oven. The last one she made sold for $100 at a charity auction. This one's not for sale, worthy cause or no worthy cause, not even for a hundred bucks. We're eating it now. The kitchen at the Mannionville Ranch. Saturday night. August 24, 2013.
Cooperstown. August 27, 2011. Roberto Clemente played for the Cangrejeros. I don’t think that’s his jersey though. Photo courtesy of me.
“¡Viva Baseball! features nearly 150 artifacts and a state-of-the-art multi-media presentation celebrating the passion of the Latin love affair with baseball, spanning nearly 150 years of history. The exhibit focuses on the rich baseball traditions of the major baseball-playing countries of the region: Cuba, the Dominican Republic, Mexico, Puerto Rico and Venezuela. In video interviews located throughout the exhibit, Latin American Hall of Famers and major league All-Stars provide first-hand accounts for playing in their homeland, their journey to the major leagues and insight into what makes Caribbean baseball special.
Some of the historic artifacts from ¡Viva Baseball! include: A ball from the first organized pro season in the United States from 1871, used in a game that featured Cuban Esteban Bellán, the first Latin American big leaguer; a jersey from Puerto Rico’s Roberto Clemente; a glove and cap from Hall of Fame pitcher Juan Marichal of the Dominican Republic; a jersey worn by Hector Espino, the “Mexican Babe Ruth”; and jerseys and equipment from current Latin American superstars like Albert Pujols, David Ortiz and Johan Santana.”---from the Baseball Hall of Fame’s website introduction to the exhibit ¡Viva Baseball!
Part Two of my All-Star Game post is written. Just have to type it, which, as you know from all my whining about it, is a chore for me these days. But I will persevere! Just as a heads up, though. The post is about how Barry Bonds belongs in the Hall of Fame and how he’s for all intents and purposes already in there, whether or not he gets a plaque. In the course of making my case, I do a big song and dance about how baseball isn’t a religion and the Hall of Fame isn’t a shrine…
Except when it is. I forgot about the exhibit that greets you when you walk in the door.
I don’t know. Reminded this former altar boy of the altars to Mary and Joseph at the front of the church. Definitely some hagiography going on. Gehrig, Robinson, and Clemente were good men but they weren’t saints. On the other hand, the exhibit’s titled “Character and Courage” and you sure can’t argue that any one of them lacked either.
Ok. Back to typing.
Photo courtesy of me. I took the picture on our visit to the Hall back two years ago, August 27, 2011.
Had a burger at the diner. But not an Alex Burger. Much as I would have liked winning a t-shirt, I could tell at a glance I was overmatched. Two pounds! Deep-fried bacon! I give! I give! Menu item. Broadway Lights Diner. Kingston, New York. Friday night. April 19, 2013.
Stopped in on the drive to Syracuse to order a sandwich for the road. Turkey and Roast Beef Combo on Rye with Russian and cole slaw, macaroni salad on the side. Gershon's. Schenectady, New York. Around five-thirty this afternoon. Tuesday. April 9, 2013.
Not exactly a spring-like morning here in Mannionville. 36 degrees and it’s not supposed to get much over 40. But it’s the fourth day in a row with sunshine. The snow from early in the week hasn’t melted away, but there are patches of grass here and there, and there’s nothing heavy predicted. Over in Massachusetts, though, things haven’t been near as mild. Winter just won’t give up. A friend of Uncle Merlin who lives on Cape Cod sent along this photo from yesterday morning. Orleans, MA. Friday. March 22, 2013.
Thursday. March 21, 2013. Nyack, NY. Front hall of the Edward Hopper House. On the right hand wall are a series of photographs by Charles Sternaimolo laying out side by side many of Hopper’s paintings with the scenes and places depicted in them as they look today. Click on the photo to see some examples.
Took Young Ken down to Nyack yesterday so he could visit the Edward Hopper House to do some research for a project for his art class. Hopper was born in the house and grew up there and he visited on and off all his life, but it was really his parents’ and then his sister’s home. Interesting and informative visit but a bit disappointing. Wasn’t expecting to see any of Hopper’s major works there, but I thought they’d have some paintings by him, and they do, but they’re upstairs in rooms that are rented out as studios and none of the artists currently renting them were there to give us permission to look in. We did get to see the upstairs bathroom, though, which hasn’t been remodeled. It’s as Hopper would have always known it. The volunteer showing us around says she’s always amazed when she looks at the cast-iron bathtub. She wonders how he fit. It doesn’t look long enough. Hopper, it turns out, was six-four, a fact that impressed Young Ken, who is only six-three and a half. Never thought about Hopper’s height before but now that I know I can see it in his photos. He was a big-boned, rangy-looking guy.
This is the bike of a tall man.
So no paintings by Hopper but almost as good were the ghosts of some of his paintings. He sometimes used parts of the house itself as inspiration and background. Click on the photos to see the paintings they found their way into. Right click to see the photos themselves enlarged.
This is a corner of the front porch.
Here’s the view down the stairway to the front hall.
This fireplace is in what is now the office.
And this place isn’t part of the house, it’s up the street a few blocks.
So that was cool. And although we didn’t get to look at any of Hopper’s paintings, there were some drawings and family photographs about and there were paintings by other artists. Two downstairs rooms are used as a gallery and paintings by three contemporary abstract artists were on display. Ken particularly liked the work of Robert Straight and decided on the spot to switch his paper topic from Hopper to Straight.
Young Ken Mannion took Uncle Merlin and me out for breakfast this morning at one of our favorite roadside eateries. I ordered the Roadside Omelet which almost looked too good to eat. Almost. Eveready Diner. Hyde Park, New York. Monday. February 25, 2013.