Vladimir Kagan's Blog

The Caleb & Vladi's Cooking Show

Patty Cake, Patty Cake, Baker’s Man

Bake me a cake as quick as you can!

Copyright Vladimir Kagan, September 27, 2015

 

"Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker's man", "Pat-a-cake", "patty-cake" or "pattyc", "Pat-a-cake", "patty-cake" or "pattycake" is one of the oldest and most widely known surviving English nursery rhymes."

   

What are the two of the most important gifts that the Jewish people have bestowed upon their Christian neighbors (other than the Bible and the Ten Commandments???)

 

Answer: Bagels and Chopped liver

  

This is an ecumenical Blog with my friend Caleb Cressman (not Jewish) teaching Vladimir Kagan (Jewish) how to make New York Style Bagels and in the same  show, Vladimir reciprocates with a lesson in making chopped liver into a sexy cognac laced paté.

 

 

Some of you will recognize Caleb as the accordion player in the Coq Au Vin Band.

 

 

Caleb’s Bagel recipe

Ingredients:

1 kg flour. I use King Arthur all purpose.

50 grams of sugar

25 grams of salt

11 grams of yeast

Mix these together

Add a little less than three cups of water.

 

Preparation:

Mix

knead for five or ten minutes

Let rise for an hour

Separate into 110 gram balls.

Now shape the dough balls into bagels by getting a hole in them and flattening slightly. Be creative.

Let sit for ten minutes.

Now throw a few at a time into the big pot of boiling water you put on at the beginning of this process. But first add a few table spoons of sugar to the water. This give the bagels a nice sparkly sheen. Flip the bagels after about 45 seconds to boil the other side. Scoop out of the water and let dry a bit on a counter. Paint side with an egg wash made from one egg white mixed with a teaspoon of water. Sprinkle on your toppings of choice and bake in a 400 degree oven for 20 minutes.

 

    

 Kneading the dough and shaping the bagel's hole. This looks easy, but it "aint" (See my results below)

My friend Betsey's and my attempt at making bagels on our own. We labelled them "Really Ugly Bagels by Vladi) and hope to market them. P.S. they really tasted delicious!

Vladi’s chopped liver recipe Chicken Liver Paté (borrowed from Jacques Pepin's cookbook. "Everyday cooking with Jacques Pepin)   Ingredients: 1 Pound of chicken livers 2/3 Cup thinly sliced onions 1 Clove of garlic, peeled and crushed 2 bay leaves crushed 1/4 Teaspoon thyme leaves 1 Cup chicken broth 2 Teaspoons of salt 1-1/2 Cups (3 sticks) butter, softened Freshly ground pepper 2 Teaspoons Cognac or more! 1 envelope unflavored gelatin for aspic   Preparation: Place the livers, onion, garlic, bay leaves, thyme, broth and 1 teaspoon salt in a saucepan. Bring to a boil, cover and cook at a bare simmer for 7 or 8 minutes. Remove from the heat and let the mixture sit for about 5 minutes. Take out the solids with a slotted spoon and place them in the bowl of a food processor with metal blade. Be certain to fish out the bay leaves as they do not chop up smoothly  (Reserve and strain the liquid to make the aspic) Start processing the liver, adding the butter piece by piece. Finally, add the second teaspoon salt, the pepper, and a generous splash of Cognac process for 2 minutes so that the mixture is very creamy and completely smooth. Pour into a mold and refrigerate to set and serve.  To preserve freshness and give a professional look to my paté,  I make an aspic. (this is the fun part of the process as it makes me look so professional.) Aspic: Boil up the remaining broth and residue from the liver. Add the bag of unflavored gelatin and stir frequently to dissolve the gelatin. Next, beat a raw egg into a froth and stir it into the boiling liquid to clarify it. Once the broth is clear, strain it through a sieve lined with a layer of paper towels. Allow to cool but not harden, then pour it slowly over the cooled paté. Make certain not to melt the underlying paté with the liquid aspic.   There's nothing like a little handwork mushing the ingredients into the pot   Stirring the ingredients over a simmering stove Testing livers to be certain that they are still pink inside adding just a dash of salt into the Cuisinart pouring the smooth pate into ceramic bowls   If the Pope  had visited NANTUCKET, he would surely have enjoyed our joint effort!   ****   This memorable event was recorded for posterity on video by my friend, Joanna Hay, who some of you will recognize as the nibbled-fingered violinist in the Coq Au Vin Band. These photos are out-take from her documentary film. I know it will make Caleb and me stars on the cooking network!    Joanna Hay is a documentary filmmaker and a superb violinist             Epilog: Kneading Bagel Dough is infinitely more work than chopping liver in the Cuisinart!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Design Week in New York

 

 

Design Week in New York

Part 1

Copyright Vladimir Kagan, May 31, 2015

 

 

New York has its Fashion Week, Fleet Week, Bike Month, Manhattan Cocktail Classic… and finally the spotlight was on us with DESIGN WEEK, (which ended two weeks ago)

It all started some twenty years ago with a small event called ICFF held in a newly built glass palace on 11th Ave. called the Jacob Javits Convention Center.  Designed by I. M. Pei after his huge success with the Louvre addition in Paris.

ICFF was the brainchild of a group of young entrepreneurs who were inspired by the success of the Milan and Cologne Furniture Fairs. It was time to show contemporary design in America. The show was fresh, vibrant and relevant. It was a perfect showcase for new talent, exhibited in unadorned ten by ten foot plain booths. It was where I reintroduced my designs and I credit this show with the rebirth of my Classic Collection.  

 

Over the years ICFF expanded, incorporating exhibitors from Italy, Austria, Spain and added an adjacent space under a huge tent. When more space was needed, new exhibitors found locations at the Piers on the Hudson River. Satellite exhibits found vacant spaces in Soho, Tribeca, Hell’s Kitchen, the Meat Packing District and anywhere temp space was available… Design Week was born.

 
ICFF is like an old school reunion; no sooner did I walk through the doors, when I immediately ran into a half dozen clients, old friends, and admiring fans. I love this show!

However, ICFF, like most exhibits over the years, has become institutionalized. The bloom has worn off.  It is a real estate venture with space rented to anyone willing to pay the price of admission. The sheer size has diluted the presentations. The show that started as an exhilarating showcase for new talent has become unexciting. Today, it includes dozens of bathroom companies showing sexy bathtubs carved in marble, beguiling faucets, showerheads and square toilets.

In all fairness, “Seek and thou shalt find”. Tucked into small-unadorned cubicles there are still gems to be discovered. In the British sector there were creative designers with hardware, lighting and wallpaper. My friend Chris Poehlmann of CP Lighting Is still making beautiful tree-inspired chandeliers. Audrey Sterk, a friend from Nantucket, is showing her graphic wallpapers designs for the first time.  Her work has caught the eye of Janovic - Plaza, a major paint retailer, who has taken on her collection. 

 

 

 You know how I love birds... I couldn't resist these feathered friends by Daniel Latorre Cruz from England

 

 

Nantucket artist, Audrey Sterk's first exhibit at ICFF

 

A talented young English artist with her imaginative wall mural paper through Badgers of Bohemia

 

 

 

I found this very amusing caterpillar stool with articulated vertebrae by an Australian design cooperative called Designs By Them

s  

Christ Poehlmann's twig wall sconset is a classic

 

I discovered Aaron Scott's work at the Architectural Digest show a year ago... this Brooklyn based artisan is doing great original work

 

I loved this amusing rattan chair (though it may not be stable when sitting in it)

In a  Danish exhibit called "Onecollection" I found this reproduction of one of my all-time favorite mid-century craftsman Finn Juhl 

 

Twist and turn - two artisans explored similar concepts

The stool is by British artist Nick Rawcliffe - Sadly I do not have the name of the maker of the table

Revisiting acrylic lighting with new LED technology

  
A very simple but effective wall clock by Nomon

 

George Beylaryan's Design Memorabilia company with a collection called De Gustibus

 

A cool bookcase system with movable dividers made of recycled wood

   This all steel cabinet is made of discarded - recycled metal shelving from the dump by Jim Rose. The pattern is from an old American quilt design

 
   

Fun designs concept from the schools: A bird-house with wings • A glass decanter cast into a wood mold

F
...and finally the prettiest shoes at the show

and an endearing exhibitor from Northern Canada showing her father's tables

 

 

 

The Social Agenda

The MAD Museum (Museum of Art & Design) used Design Week for its annual Gala dinner honoring the young emerging designer Sebastian Errazuriz. I was honored to introduce my friend at this Gala dinner. At only thirty seven year old, Sebastian is one of the hottest, most talented multi-faceted artists today. (I had devoted an earlier Blog to his provocative work - look him up on the internet)

Dapper Sebastian Errazuriz got to hug the two most beautiful women at the Gala

...but I got the Kiss!

 

Saturday evening, I was invited to a night of impromptu jazz at my friends the Vales, who do this once or twice a year. The entire family is into jazz and each member performed with the twenty-five invited musicians at the party.

 

Look for Part Two of this review shortly

An Ode to a Great Man

Remembrance Of A Great Man

who died silently

Copyright Vladimir Kagan January 22. 2015

 

David Josefowitz 1918 - 2015

The measure of a man is not his size. He can be a giant and bumble through life with open eyes and do nothing. He can be blind and see more than his sighted neighbor. He can be decimated by Alzheimer, existing within a silent shell, where there still might linger the remains of the genius that once was. Now, there is nothing left but the music swirling in his head - his useful hand conducting the orchestra that once was his voice. Communication left him years ago. “No” was the only word that stayed with him to the end. Why “NO”? Perhaps it was the last remnant of self-expression?

 

You may not recognize the name David Josefowitz, but he was one of those giants. While doing his doctorate in Chemistry at MIT, David invented the formula that gave us vinyl LP records. If you joined a classical music Club you were likely a member of Concert Hall Society or Guild International Du Disque –anyplace in the world– Again a brainchild of David. Together with his brother Sam, they created the Vitamin Club of the Month. David did not invent the Book of the Month Club, but if you were a child studying your homework from flash-cards sent to you on a monthly basis, you benefitted from yet another creation of David and Sam’s. If you lived in Europe, you surely bought books from Editions Rencontre, one of Europe’s preeminent publishing houses. Yes – David and Sam’s creations. If you lived in London, were a music enthusiast and went to concerts of the London Soloists Chamber Orchestra. The founder and conductor was David Josefowitz. He created this unique orchestra to give young gifted musicians from all over the world, an opportunity to perform as soloist. If you studied music at London’s Royal Academy, chances are you did it in the David Josefowitz Hall. When young promising ensembles or soloists wanted to borrow great string instruments David organized the lending of them.

 

 David was married to my sister Tanya. For 65 years they spent their lives collecting art… while other entrepreneurs amassed real estate in the Hamptons and fancy watering holes in Europe, Tanya and David sagaciously bought art; not any art but selectively; The Fauves, French Impressionists and Cubists, and with an expert eye, a discriminating collection of old masters. Their collection is world-class and is generously loaned to institutions around the world.

 

When David finally retired, Queen Elisabeth, in appreciation for his contribution to music and art in England, bestowed the honor of a CBE (Commander of the British Empire) on him.

 

David knew that he had Alzheimer and for the comfort of his family returned to live the remainder of his life in Switzerland, where so many of his children and extended family lived.

 

David Josefowitz died quietly on January 10^th in the arms of his wife and surrounded by his family – He was 96 year old.

 

Just An Ordinary Summer On Nantucket

In three installments

Part 1

Copyright Vladimir Kagan, September 19, 2014

A panoramic view of Nantucket harbor taken from the Whaling Museum roof

 

 

The countdown to the end of summer starts on the July 4th and comes to an official end at Labor Day… but in reality it lingers deep into September, when we have some of the finest weather with un-crowded beaches, streets and restaurants.

 

Here’s a sampling of my “ho-hum” summer

 

INDEPENDENCE DAY

This year the fourth started with a bang. The traditional Fireworks display was usurped by a full-fledged hurricane – Arthur! (The only one that reached our Island so far this year.) We had no damage other than a few downed branches and some temporary lowland flooding due to storm surge.

 Nantucket’s summer folks are a hardy bunch. In place of the traditional firework’s party, we were invited to a laptop dinner to savor the storm in our hostess’ beachfront house. Sixty guests turned up to snuggle down while the wind was howling outside. When we finally dared to leave, the wind was still blasting at 60 mph as we waded through 6” of water to reach our cars.

Hurricane Arthur gave us a soaking and a few boats washed ashore on the sandy beach... but no major damage -                                     Photos courtesy of The Inquirer & Mirror - Jim Powers photographer

 

 

FUNDRAISERS ON NANTUCKET

Summer life on Nantucket is frenzied… The social calendar is mind-boggling. Over 100 official fundraisers are gnawing at your heels to relieve you of your surplus money. You have to weasel your way through all the invitations not to end up in the poorhouse!

 

 

I went to the annual Art & Artisan Show for a fun starter. Fifty local and invited artisans from the New England area and beyond were housed under a tent. Potters, jewelers, weavers, quilters, carvers, beachcombers who build handcrafted furniture all exhit at the show. The show was sponsored by Small Friends on Nantucket, a non-profit facility that provides day care and early education for infants from 3 month through five years old. It is an unsung benefit for Nantucket’s working parents, who otherwise could not go out and earn a living.

 

  

My favorite ceramist Barbara Toole, Clay Art Studio, makes hand-thrown mugs, bowl, canisters in colorful glazes

 

Karin Sheppherd weaves traditional rag rugs out of discarded blue jeans and Nantucket red pants - Island Weaves on Nantucket

Birdbaths carved out of granite make beautiful attractions in a garden by sculptor Andrew Mintz

 

The three Bratd sisters - all were pupils of my wife, Erica Wilson, when they were little girls. Erica used to call them the Bratlings - Today they are all involved with Small Friends

 

Ginny Brown is a designer and quilter and used a Kaffe Fassett textile (on the right) and quilted it

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hope Murphy works in fused glass and created these colorful door and drawer knobs to freshen up any cabinet

 

THE LIVELIEST FUNDRAISER OF THE SEASON

The Nantucket Cottage Hospital has a lulu of an annual affair; the Boston Pops comes to town for one night, setting up a mammoth stage on Jetties Beach… The concert is a blend of patriotic music… every song that glorifies our flag and nation with a heavy dose of John Philip Sousa. After intermission, there is an abrupt change of pace…the music is replaced with a session of Abba replete with imported Swedish performers.

The band stand as seen from our center stage table

Super size screens brought the concert to the distant audience on the beach and in boats on the sea. Left: Nantucket High School student singing the Star Spangled Banner  Right: David Gregory NBC news host was the MC for the evening

Our lovely hostess, Marty With Chris and me enjoying the show

When darkness finally overtakes the breathtaking sunset, the orchestra ends with Tchaikovsky’s heroic 1812 Overture, followed by a twenty-minute display of spectacular fireworks. It is the social event of the summer. Virtually the whole town turns out for this Gala. Over 7,000 people crowd onto a small strip of beach; each paying $30 to squat on the sand with their picnic baskets and beach chairs… the hoi-polloi, pay anything from $15,000 to $100,000 for a table of ten… As an invited guest, I got to sit at a numbered table with tablecloths to eat tepid food served up by hundreds of adorable volunteers. The ‘beach-sitters’ bring their own picnic, frequently more elaborate and delicious than the catered food… Finally there is the flotilla of boats: many set out at sunset to enjoy the concert from the sea…. (For years Erica and I were a part of this floating audience). After the concert, the fleet, from dinghies, fishing boats to luxury yachts, grope their way home through shoals and jetties in pitch darkness to their moorings…. a hair-razing experience under the best of circumstances and terrifying when the fog rolls in.

 Fireworks accompanied Tchaikovsky’s heroic 1812 Overture

After the last boom of the thunderous fireworks and the concert is barely over, the throngs of people start slowly exiting. The “circus crew” is already dismantling the stage and tents that housed kitchens – bars – dressing rooms and the fifty or so porta-potties…

 

Even as the orchestra was exiting, the work-crew started to disassemble the stage

On land, thousands of pedestrians trudge home with beach chairs on their backs, tugging little wagons with the remnants of their picnic fixings and small children on their hands or riding on dad’s shoulders. Those of us lucky enough to have obtained parking permits, gingerly pick our way through the masses of pedestrians… it is all very orderly, and miraculously, without incidents or accidents.

By morning all is gone and the beach is once again left in pristine condition for the summer tourists.

 

THE COQ AU VIN BAND

I still chase my favorite “Gypsies”, the Coq Au Vin band. There is not a gypsy amongst them… All are wholesome American kids playing romantic music. This August they did a series of intimate (and sold-out!) sunset concerts to a packed appreciative audience on the spectacular rooftop of the Nantucket Whaling Museum, where they debuted some new songs and introduced their fun T-shirts! These gigs were a far cry from the usually noisy, boisterous evenings at the Pazzo restaurant where their fans congregate until one in the morning dancing on tables with yours truly leading the cheering.

 

The band on the roof-top of the Whaling Museum doing their twilight concerts

Ingrid and her friend Hebe introducing the band's new T shirts

The "fan club" touting our new purchase

Ingrid Feeney the lead singer sings in six exotic languages and has just completed her Masters in Anthropology. Every song has a history, which she interprets in a scholarly way to her appreciative audience.  

 

The band cavorting on Caleb Cressman's farm while being filmed for a Music Video

 

Caleb's farm menagerie - goats, sheep and pigs

 

Ingrid Feeney the lead singer with Lucy Van Ardsdale the base-fiddler - Joanna Hay, the violinist, taking a break in the recording studio

This was the band’s last week playing together… Ingrid went to Oregon to be with her boyfriend, who is getting a doctorate in Eco-sciences; Joanna Hay, the violinist, returned home to Louisville Kentucky to her daytime career of documentary film maker and her eagerly awaiting husband.

The Band’s popularity has spread beyond our Island; earlier this summer, a Hollywood team of cinema-photographers converged on Caleb Cressman’s farm to film a Music Video for release later this year. Caleb is the leader of the band. He is a very talented multi-faceted musician, who plays the violin and accordion and has written many of the band’s soulful melodious songs. In their final week together, the band recorded their first CD…  After their final recording session, the entire band came to my house for a hilarious farewell dinner of chili and ice cream.

 

  Hang in there - for two instalments to come!

A Farewell to Winter in Florida

 

 

Goodbye Summer – Hello Spring

Copyright Vladimir Kagan, April 10, 2014

 

There are only a few things in Palm Beach (y-a-w-n) that can turn me on…

    One: is going to Miami where life is vibrant, the Cuban girls exquisite, friends are dynamic, the food exotic, and I have the best showroom in town with my furniture at Ralph Pucci’s gallery.

 

my limited edition Fibreglas Chair in the Pucci Miami showroom

My social life blossoms when I am in Miami

 

The Farmer's Market

me - buzzing about in the farmer's Market on my Scooter

    In West Palm Beach there is a weekly event I seldom miss: The Farmer’s Market!  Five minutes from my apartment in Palm Beach, this is where the hoy-poloy blend seamlessly with the tourists, oldies, odd-ies, students, and dozens of well behaved dogs winding their way between their owner’s and stroller legs. What is really “cool” are the vendors: some graduates of the “snake-oil school of salesmanship”… characters in their own right…. There are hucksters, gardeners, fast-food magicians, botanists, apiarists, Jamaican short order cooks… talk about the smell of Pizza’s wafting in the air… wait till you smell marinated spareribs sizzling on charcoal embers!!!

My first “port of call” is always Jamal, my friend from Anguilla, who, with a few well placed strokes of his machete, cuts open a juicy young coconut, which we eagerly sip through a tiny hole at the top. Finally, when empty, we eat the gelatinous fresh “meat” with a “spoon” deftly crafted by Jamal.

 
Jamal handing Chris his coconut - Jamal giving a coup de gras to a coconut ready for eating

  

Next, there is Sigi, my German cheese vendor… I love schmoozing it up with him in German while he seduces me with morsels of “must buy” cheese! My fridge is full of them, which I intend to transport North regardless of the residual smell in my suitcase!

Don't be fooled by the sausage - that's Sigi my Cheese vendor with his droll wife smiling in the background

 

I love the lady who sells orchids. Hers is a little paradise of tropical splendor… I can never resist buying an orchid; after four months, my plants are still in full bloom sprouting new flowers daily…

 

Orchid, orchids everywhere but my gardening friend was not to be seen

 

On occasion there are gymnasts showing off their flexibility in aerial Yoga, a specially advanced form of the ancient Indian meditation exercise… they turn out to be “shills” for the yoga studio down the street.

 
Chris getting pointer from the "Yoga Chick" on how to hang upside down

 

The honey guy is fabulous; knowledgeable about the seriously endangered bee population and the fascinating sources of his various honeys… (Next to the cheese in my suitcase, will be jars of honey extracted from the endangered plant species pollinated by his bees).

The honey vendor giving a serious lecture on bees - The olive oil guys handing out tastes of their products

I manage to thread my way through the teaming crowds on my little electric tricycle - which also serves as transport for all our purchases as it is quickly inundated with shopping bags nestled between my legs and dangling on the handlebars.

    

One of my great loves in Florida are Banyan Trees… there is a beauty at the entrance to the little park which temporarily host’s the market… I stand and worship it every visit.

The majestic Banyan Tree at the entrance to the little park that is home to the Farmer's Market each Saturday
 

 

The Middle East and France in Palm Beach

Two blocks down a side street is my favorite Middle East Bakery & Grocery operated by a Lebanese father and son team. I am a regular and love, love their food: flat bread, humus, babaganush, taramasalata, baklavas, dolmathakia, halva… is your mouth watering?

   
I cannever resist the feta or the wide choice of 'home baked" flat bread

A little treasure, that I almost hate to reveal is Patrick Leze’s Patisserie hidden in the Landmark Palm Beach Hotel just a half block from my home… I scooter there regularly for a fresh croissant and coffee.

French spoken here: Elodie Leze, the wife of the baker, enjoying a cup of coffee with me

 

 

Where the West Meets East

… And finally, my latest discovery, (the one that may still redeem Palm Beach’s ho-hum reputation): Line Dancing at Renegades in West Palm Beach! This is done to Country Western Music, which, according to a recent article in the New York Times, is the hottest pop music going… We entered a bar that looked like a roller skating rink with tables around the perimeter for patrons…“Step – kick – turn” was blasting out of a sound system over the beat of the music. There were perhaps twenty to thirty bodies of all ages, sex, color, costumes - some exquisite, others chubby, lanky, some dressed as urban cowboys but most just in jeans, and the uniform for the girls: cut-off short-shorts with the mandatory cowboy boots. The caller was a middle-aged bespectacled lady that knew her stuff. She took the participants through their drill before setting them loose to the music. Everyone moved in unison… first right then left; at a signal, all spun around and faced us… everyone in serious concentration… there were calls for stomping, hopping, twisting … with endless variations… all in unison.  By now the dance floor filled with more people all in step with each other. Their performance could have been on the stage of Radio City Music Hall… As the evening progressed, the caller disappeared and the floor became filled with better and better dancers... young old, extremely good looking others became beautiful with their movements. There was a separate contingent that did couple dancing… they were oblivious to the Line dancers as the males were seriously engrossed with their lady partner’s pirouetting, in and out and under their arms and deftly twirling them behind their backs… all the while moving forward around the perimeter of the dance floor… Like serious Tango dancers, the oldsters could easily out-dance some of the younger couples…. all this movement to the throbbing rhythmic music. The chorus-line performers in the center were oblivious to the couples and vice-versa.

 

While the men in my small entourage were watching this performance from our ringside tables, munching comfort food, (my favorite variation of junk-food) nachos, Buffalo wings, ribs and bottles of beer, our two ladies became enthusiastic participants on the dance floor, though their steps were quite original…

 
The dim lighting made it difficult to take photos, but trust me - this is one experience not to be missed!

The evening was an amazing experience, which had been enthusiastically encouraged by my teen-aged granddaughters… Why did I wait till the end of the season to discover this gregarious entertainment???

 

Palm Beach may still be a fun destination next winter when the snow begins to fall…

 

video link to line dancing:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bdKBXn-GOJw

The Obsolescence Game

Hello… can I use your phone?

Copyright Vladimir Kagan, January 7, 2014

 

 

The precursor to the smart phone

iPhones - the heir to the telegraph keyboard

 

What phone?

 

 “We don’t own one, we have a brand new telegraph machine. It sends messaged without using Morse code! It’s is a small pocket-sized gadget that lets you type words with two thumbs… It has taught our kids to write instead of chatting on the phone for hours. It’s a time-saver, everyone in this house owns one... we can stay in touch wherever we are!”

 

These gadgets are called Smart Phones! they go under the name of Samsung, Blackberry and IPhone. …They have changed the way we live.

If Darwin is right about evolution, future human mutants will be born with two thumbs and a pinky to hold these phones…

++++++++++++

 

This phenomenon has inspired me to create a shopping list of some of the items that have disappeared in my lifetime.

 

 

 

The Telephone None of you will remember when phones had to be cranked to ring the operator. The operator would answer and tell you, “Mrs. McIntosh is not at home but she’s have tea with Mrs. O’Brien”. Most of you, might remember the dial phone… It was a leisurely process of turning the dial with your index finger and patiently waiting for it to return to neutral. Then dial the next number. Clever hackers could “read” the phone number just by listening to the clicks. These phones bit the dust when AT&T introduced the Touch-tone phone fifty years ago; now, you could communicate fast as lightning just by pushing some buttons… Obsolete.

 

At&T's revolutionary Touch-tone phone introduced in 1970

 

Modern folks don’t use landlines anymore, they’ve switched to cell phones. You can see them everywhere bulging out of their hip pockets. – However, try to call your friend and ten-to-one, you’ll be connected to a message machine – text them and you’ll get an instant response.

 

        

The slide-rule - the modern alternative to the abacus
 

The Slide Ruler  it was my pride and joy; a delightful instrument… much smarter than my simple mathematical requirements… Its capability was akin to the mysterious Chinese abacus… these tools were available in desktop and pocket size. No architect or engineer could function without one.  I still own mine, though I have long since forgotten how to use it. This indispensable tool was replaced by the calculator; first as a large desktop model but soon shrunk to pocket size.

 

The Typewriter While in High School, I decided that I had to learn touch-typing and Gregg shorthand. I quickly forgot the shorthand, but the typing stayed with me forever… that is why I write so many Blogs today!

 

I still own my portable Olivetti, tucked away in a closet out of nostalgia

 
IBM's revolutionary Selectric typwriter with its rotating "golf ball"

The office typewriter was a huge clanking machine with ribbons that often tangled, smudged letters and ran out of ink at the most inconvenient time. Next came the electric typewriter, the most revolutionary one was the IBM Selectric introduced in 1961; a beautiful streamlined instrument designed by Eliot Noyes. It eliminated the moveable typebars that clanked noisily as it struck the ribbon to imprint each letter. At the end of each line you had to throw the rotating rubber cylinder to the next line… The combined sound was so rhythmic that Leroy Anderson composed his charming Typewriter Song. The Selectric was a radical change; it had a "typeball", known as the "golf ball" which rotated and pivoted to the correct position before striking. The Selectric replaced the traditional typewriter's moving carriage with a paper roller that stayed in position while the typeball moved from side to side. What could be more modern, more convenient? It captured 70% of the typewriter business in America. But nothing is forever. The computer trashed the Selectric. At first, a clumsy office machines but soon shrunk into laptops small enough to fit into your briefcase or pocket book. The hitch: you do need a printer to create a paper trail. This is where the going gets rough. The market is full of printers; the goal was to make them cheap and accessible. And this they did by practically giving it away, but getting you buy the ink… Cartridges run out frequently and cost almost as much as the printer!

 

The teletype printer of the Telex machine spat-out miles and miles of perforated paper ribbons

The Telex  When I was designing offices, one of the vital ingredients was the communication center…The Telex was the ticking heart of company. These machines were outrageously noisy and had to be relegated to insulated rooms. Their operators were the lowest members of the office staff. The bi-product was miles of tickertape, ready to throw out of windows for parades down Wall Street…  The silent fax machine replaced these clanking monstrosities.

 

 

A desktop mimiograph machine that the operator ground out by hand - sheet after sheet 

The Mimeograph  This was an indispensable office tool for grinding out multiple documents… It looked like a downsized version of a newspaper press. They bit the dust when Xerox came along with their office copiers.

The Xerox was intrduced in 1959 - this is a tabletop version from the 80's

The Camera has virtually disappeared: From the venerable Kodak Box to the fancy Olympus and Nikon to the pocket sized Sony, Pentaflex and Cannon; along with the giant film industry Kodak and Fuji … add to this the instant gratification Polaroid… gone is the local camera store…The Smart phone has pulverized an entire industry.

 

A Nikon SRL Camera  -  Nikon's pocket sized Coolpix  -  The must-have -  instant-print Polaroid

 

....Add to this list maps, dictionaries, thesaurus, encyclopedias, records, VCRs - record stores and movie rental shops!

 

++++++++++++

 

All this, thanks to Steve Jobs, (Apple’s mastermind) who decided that his iPhones and iPads could do the tasks of all these dinosaurs… and they do!

 

 

Reminiscences of a fun-filled fall weekend

Fall in Nantucket

Copyright Vladimir Kagan November 25, 2013

 

It is only four days to Thanksgiving and here I am reminiscing about a weekend over a month ago. Why? Because it was lots of fun and full of interesting activity… and most of you weren’t there!

 

Remember Columbus Day? It’s always a great Holiday for store sales – or - A weekend in the country with the kids - or - Soccer and Lacrosse matches to keep parents from going for that weekend in the country. For me it was Nantucket.

 

 

My weekend started in New York on Thursday with an invitation to the final performance of the original Coc au Vin band, with Ingrid Feeney, the band’s indispensable vocalist, playing hooky from her Master’s studies in Anthropology at the University of Chicago. Joanna Hay, my favorite violinist, took time-off from recording the oral history of Kentucky Bourbon. The four other members: Caleb Cressman, Andy Harris, Pete Arsenault and Lucy VanArsdale arrived complete with her bass fiddle in a three-car caravan from Nantucket. Ethan Philbrick, the concert cellist, now studying in New York at NYU, joined the band, as did Joanna’s nephew, Ben Thornewill, who is a promising rock star and leader of a band called “Jukebox The Ghost”. Thornewill improvised the gypsy tunes with a distinct Jazz flavor on the Grand piano… Fans came from everywhere … Asa Jean had just flown in from Italy in time for the concert… he got the place rocking by encouraging everyone to dance … It was a fun start of a lively weekend.   

   

My adorable traveling companions on my flight to Nantucket

 

I lucked out hitching a ride to Nantucket in a friend’s plane… It was a perfect afternoon to escape New York, bypassing all the stifling weekend traffic. The plane is a sexy twin engine Cessna normally, quiet and dignified with passenger’s noses buried in their newspaper or briefcase files. Not this time! It was a kiddies outing with more children than adults. 40-minutes later we arrived on our far-away Island to a glorious sunset.

 

The glorious sunset as seen from the airplane just before we slipped under the clouds

Scalloping is Nantucket’s favorite fall sport. The season starts October 1^st, but gets frenetic over the Columbus Day weekend. Saturday morning was blustery with winds gusting over 25 m.p.h. Only the foolhardiest of souls ventured out to muck about in frothy chilly waters, spending hours in their waterlogged waders as they became flooded by the onrushing waves. (Age had its advantage and I was spared going overboard)… my mission was to monitor the anchor and keep the boat from dragging over the seaweed bottom. For those that don’t rake for scallops it is mandatory to partake in opening them. The process is called shucking, a ritual, best done in the backyard as it is messy and slimy. It is also time consuming and best accompanied with a glass of beer, wine or better still, a slug of whiskey. (One of our fellow scallopers took a short cut and paid the local fishmonger to do the task for him. That is cheating!) If you scallop you must experience shucking. This year, I managed to escape the shucking, as I had to prepare dinner for 21 guests. My specialty is Ceviche and Cesar Salad. (Without boasting, I make the best of both… Another time I may share the recipes). It was a contest between my Ceviche and my daughter Vanessa’s outstanding pasta (made with the freshest scallops money can’t buy.)

 

heading out to the flats off Tuckernuck Island

 

The kids getting ready for a joy ride out to the scallpop fields

 

T

The boys suiting up in wetsuits to dive for the scallops



Getting ready for the big "dig" - These photos were taken in calmer waters from an earlier date  

...and this is what the "hunt" is all about! Nantucket Bay Scallops

 ...followed by the messy task of shucking

Finally the reward: tasting one of my ceviche delicacies

 

Scalloping is not Nantucket’s only Columbus Day “sport”. There were numerous other events to lure the tourists. High on the calendar was the Cranberry Festival, an afternoon concocted around the harvesting of these succulent berries.  When the weather is nice, it is fun for all the family; games, hayrides, sheep sheering, hot dogs, and a tent filled with tables offering everything and anything made with cranberries. Cranberries are an integral part of Nantucket’s agriculture. Nantucket boasts the largest contiguous Bogs in the USA. Cranberry harvesting is a treat to watch and seldom seen by the public. The ritual starts with bees pollinating the flowers in the spring, (hence the honey on sale in the tent). After weeding the bogs all summer, when the berries are ripe the bogs are flooded with water to harvest them with a thrasher. Millions of berries float to the top and then corralled and sucked up with giant vacuums into waiting trucks to be transported to the Cape for processing. The flooded “ponds” turn crimson red and are a spectacular sight to see… it is an irresistible subject for artists and photographers. I love doing this event every year.

   
The Cranberry Festival

Sunday turned out to be another fine fall day. The not-to-miss event of the day was the Demolition Derby. You can’t believe how many real and would be rednecks we have on the island. (I was surprised to see so many of my friends.) A thousand spectators watched the screeching and banging from behind the safety of a chain fence as the cars kicked up dust and dirt with their spinning tires. Participants take great pride in decorating their wrecks with funny epitaphs or the names of local sponsors; all glass is removed from windows and replaces with chicken wire… only an infinitesimal amount of gasoline is in each gas tank and fires are not a usual risk. To heighten the excitement, huge billows of steam pour out of the radiators, as they are smashed in this adult form of carnival “Bumper Cars”. Each round takes less than five minutes but much longer to clean up. This year there were 50 cars entered with 7 heats for the day. I loved to watch the dexterity of the Bulldozer operators as they clear the wrecks between each heat. There were food and chowder stands to keep us warm in the chilly afternoon.

A successful driver leaving his wreck behind - followed by an ever vigilant fire fighter - just in case!

 

At the end of the day the "grave yard" after the demolition

 

If watching car wrecking wasn’t on your agenda, there was a little publicized show called Capoeira, a Brazilian dance and marshal arts performance at the local high school auditorium. The origin of Capoeira came from African slaves, who, chained and shackled, invented this aggressive tactic, disguised as a dance to trick their Portuguese overseers into believing it to be a benign event. 

 

 

An air-borne dancer - the action is so swift that he is appearing only as a swish

n
The children parading hand in hand with their adult partners

A brave youngster challenging his grown-up partner

Nantucket has a sizable transplanted Brazilian colony, mostly working in gardening, housekeeping and construction. Under normal circumstances, you might occasionally meet one in the local Stop & Shop; otherwise they tend to be invisible. This performance was a surprising eye-opener. It gave a new dimension to these talented people and their acrobatic dance. The stage was filled with dozens of white costumed performers; stave carrying singers, string instruments and bongo drummers. Capoeira is a performance sometimes in slow motion, instantly becoming lightning quick with dancers doing gymnastic leaps tumble, flip, kick and pirouette while ducking under their opponents. It is a dance with rhythmic flow of motion; there is hardly ever a bodily contact. Most enchanting was the participation of little children, aged four, five, and upward, from the local elementary school, interacting with these giant high performance “warriors” in this gentle dance. As in Judo, performers are rated with colored belts that denote their lever of expertise. (See link below to what a video of this great dance)

 

Finally, it was the closing ceremony for our yacht club, with the lowering of the burgee as flag officers stood in silent observance while a bugler played taps.

 
Closing cerimony at the Nantucket Yacht Club

We could not have crammed more activities into this three-day Holiday, but it turns out that we missed the half-Marathon and numerous other sporting events…. By Tuesday morning, with the mass-exodus of visitors, Nantucket slipped back into its fall slumber….

 

Our beautiful Boat Basin after the crowds have left

 

Link to Capoeira Dance:

file://localhost/Users/vladimir/Desktop/BLOGS%20NEW%20MATERIAL/COLUMBUS%20DAY%20BLOG/Capoeira%20-%20Brazilian%20Dance,%20Music,%20&%20Martial%20Arts%20-%20YouTube.webarchive

A Nantucket Landmark

The Chicken Box

NO, this is not a purveyor of chicken nuggets - It's a dive to celebrate the passage of rites from youth into adulthood

Copyright Vladimir Kagan, August 18, 2013

 

The Box, as it is and as it's always been

The lonely dance floor without patrons

The generation gap is never more evident than a night spent at the Chicken Box. OMG! The music booms, the floor shakes and your head is bursting with the electronic vibrations that pulsate within this enclosed wooden box. For the uninitiated, it is a living hell; for the hordes of youngsters who gravitate to it nightly, it is bliss. They jump and gyrate to the electronic vibrations... When I first went to the Box fifty years ago, it had dirt floors, today they are wood, then it reeked of stale tobacco smoke, today it is saved by the strictly enforced none smoking rules. Miraculously, the Box has survived unscathed all these years. It has weaned my children and their children from teeny-bobbing youngsters into responsible adulthood.

 

The ferocious bouncer at the door carefully cards every entrant for their I.D.s (surprisingly, I passed through without difficulty.) Each lovely young nymphet is obliged to produces a picture I.D. Much to the dismay of the guardians of the door, a few of these lithe young creatures and their dates are teenagers in disguise! I know because all of my now grown-up kids snuck in with them! (The fake I.D. business still thrives!) -  In addition to a hefty admission charge, the "Box" makes its money selling alcohol to its patrons. (It is an antiquated law that mandates drinking establishments can only serve booze to patrons 21 or older. None-the-less they can vote at 18 and die in our wars long before they are allowed to drink! The upside to this is that there are fewer DUI deaths than there used to be.)

 

Setting foot into this madhouse you are swallowed-up into a throbbing, pulsating thunder that only the young recognize as music. The lyrics are nonexistent or rapper chants that need translating into understandable sound bytes.  The floor jumps under foot; it feels like walking on a rubber raft in a wavy ocean.

Dancing at the Box... if you can call it dancing 

We were treated as VIPs by management, as my hostess is an aficionado of the music and a frequent patron of the establishment. The gyrating strobe lights were blinding and had the effect of the floor dropping out from under you. Conversation is nonexistent. (It took some eighty years for my hearing to be impaired... this generation will suffer with this predicament much, much sooner.) As conversation is impossible, all you can do is gyrate and drink. The latter is welcome music to the club's owners.

 

Floyd Kellogg with his bass guitar, doing a gig at the Box. 

We entered the Box to canned music served up by an invisible disc jockey. However, shortly thereafter, the lights briefly dimmed, a huge thunderclap exploded, which announces the onslaught of the live band. Four people inhabit the stage, now bursting with pulsating strobe lights. The musicians are a rag-tag assemblage of disheveled young men. (Not visible, are the sound-mixers hiding behind their battery of switches, knobs, and flashing LED lights.)

 

Let the fun begin! The audience responds enthusiastically with clapping, screaming and bouncing. This is the signal for the band to do their stuff. In this kind of musical venue, the pianist is referred to as the Keyboarder. He stands hunched over his instrument, there is no resemblance to a piano as he hovers over his board like Wizard in the Wizard of Oz - this is his domain. A few notes later, (one can hardly call them a tune,) he jumps to his feet and frantically dashes all over the stage in search of a microphone. Once found, he howls into it with unintelligible words, (though I was told that they are rapper lyrics). The dancers go wild - now it is the lead guitarist, like a monkey on a leash, he lets loose his un-earthly sounds from an electric guitar and dashes back and forth over the little stage, gyrating up - down - sideways, beating the floor, the rafters and his poor instrument. The drummer all the while sets off huge electric booms that resonate throughout the room… It is bedlam! It is worthy to note that while the folks on the dance floor go happily deaf, the bands defends itself against their own racket by wearing earphones and earplugs!

 

The couples on the dance floor (they are not all couples in the traditional sense: girls with girls, solo dancers and eccentrics doing their own thing) are all mesmerized by the beat.  It is unfair to use the word "dance" to describe the motion on the floor. Bodies move like Zombies to an unearthly sound. There is no passion to their dance... there are no words to coo into a partner’s ear, it is just a frenetic gyration... each participant letting off steam... (Ah, how I wished at that moment to be back with my Coc au Vin band whose Gypsy tunes inspired passionate dancing.)

 

Our raison d’être for being at the Box that evening was to "enjoy" Floyd Kellogg, the bass guitarist, whom I had met under quite different circumstances on a Whale watch in the Atlantic Ocean. Floyd is a charming handsome young man, self-effacing, who, just a week earlier was playing an acoustic guitar with my favorite band. He is a gifted musician, playing different gigs with many local bands. I was saddened to see this talented young man going wild.... But then again... I am an old codger! Who am I to criticize?

 

Nantucket's Gypsy Band

Coq au Vin

This is not an Epicurean’s recipe – It’s a great Nantucket Gypsy Band! 

Copyright Vladimir Kagan, July 21, 2013

 

 

A formal photo of the Coq au Vin band

 

Nantucket cannot survive a summer without its influx of temporary employees. No community that grows from 10.000 to 70,000 in a fortnight can survive without them. The Police hire "rent a cops", gardeners find Latinos, restaurants and merchants depend on the annual influx J-1 visa - foreign students for their staffing. Each year this annual migration brings students from different corners of the world. This year they are Chinese last year they were Russians and Bulgarians.

 It was natural for me to assume that the cheerful music wafting into my son’s gallery was produced by a Slavic band. The captivating gypsy sound drew me into the garden of the Westmoor Club where Illya was having his show. Emerging from the dimly lit interior into the blinding sunlight, my eyes gradually adjusted to see a scantily clad nymph dancing with a hoola hoop to the beat created by a lithe blond belting out a song in a foreign language while gyrating with a tambourine. She had a booming voice that wafted above the throng of children gathered there for an outdoor picnic at the club. The band consisted of an accordion, two guitars and a violin. I thought "What a splendid contribution to the ethos of Nantucket." The sound was captivating and I was enthralled by the dancing performers. The children, for whom this performance was intended, could care less, however, the few Dads in the audience did! The band performed exotic music for the next half hour. The hoola hooper taught the children to dance along with her. At the conclusion of the band's performance I was flabbergasted when this nimble nymph came over and kissed me! "Don't you recognize me? I am your masseuse!" (How was that for a small world department?)

 I never saw the band again that year.... However, It did occur to me that for Gypsies they looked incredibly "waspy". The violinist was an elegantly clad short bobbed blond that would have been at home in a church, performing with a string quartet. When the accordion player stood up he was a bear of a man with a bushy black beard, not unlike many Russians, but his bearded face did not look Slavic. The two guitarists looked straight out of an East coast prep school. Nonetheless the music and the foreign lyrics were captivatingly gypsy.

 

I had long ago forgotten this cheerful afternoon. Early this spring I went to one of our local farms to purchase plants for my garden. These farms are staffed with dedicated young people, who love the smell of the earth. The gardener that helped me was a wholesome, curly haired young girl in cut-off jeans and a healthy suntan. During our conversation, I discovered that in the evenings, she changed roles and morphed into the lead singer for the illusive Gypsy band!

One of Nantucket’s best-loved after-beach destinations is the Cisco Brewery. It has become the hottest venue on our Island, where young and old gather for a casual drink and show off their bikinis and suntans. The scene is wild, straight out of the seventies. The audience perch on minimal stools and rough-hewn wooden tables. Children play unperturbed and dogs wonder between your legs without leashes. A cold beer tastes like a nectar from the Gods and the atmosphere vibrates with the music. And there, lo and behold, was my illusive gypsy band! Coq au Vin. Ingrid Feeney, the wholesome farm girl was transformed into a hipster. The violinist, Joanna Hay, still looked still looked the part of a concert violinist though she was wearing a sexy orange mini-skirt... Another hoola-hooper was bouncing in front of the band and the lively music kept everyone happy... I stayed through their entire two-hour performance and instantly became a groupie!

 

The band in action at the Cisco Brewery

From left to right: Tom Stoddart, Lucy VanArsdale, Andy Harris, Caleb Cressman, Pete Arsenault,

Joanna Hay, Ingrid Feeney

 

Ingrid belting out a song at the Brewery

Left: Lucy strumming her bass - right: Tom Stoddard sitting-in on a session with Andy on trumpet, Caleb on his accordian and Pete on guitar

Ingrid and Joanna - the barefoot musicians

 

Joanna with her violin

 

The band peerforming "Sait James Infirmary" at the Cisco Brewery

(If your computer does not show the video, here is the link)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L1Yrpsk-jOE

Through my friend, Ingrid, I learned that these were all talented American "kids" who had gotten together a few years earlier to play this kind of music. Turns out that Ingrid comes from Icelandic and Irish parents and is a linguist who sings in seven languages (this fall she is heading off to Chicago to get a masters in anthropology). Joanna Hay, the violinist, hails from Kentucky and is in fact a trained classical violinist. Back at home she runs her own production company. Caleb Cressman, the accordion player switched from violin to accordion about two years ago to play gypsy music...  He lives year round in Nantucket on his farm with his wife and two children. In the daytime Caleb milks his sheep, tends to the animals, his toddler daughter and infant son.

Caleb and his day-time job!

Pete Arsenault is the very talented guitarist playing softly on an acoustic guitar. Robert Walder is a trained flamenco guitarist. Andy Harris is the trumpeter who also plays the euphonium, a hybrid between a tuba and a French horn that adds a deep-throated melodic sound and in an instant jumps a dozen octaves to emit the sweetest high notes. Lucy VanArsdale, the bass fiddler is a cheerful tattooed gal who rhythmically strums at her instrument for the right beat to the music. The band has no drummer; they don’t need one because the table-pounding audience provides all the drumming. Seldom is there a jam session without other musicians sitting in. Tom Stoddart comes with his Saxophone to the Brewery on Tuesday afternoon – Ethan Philbrick, Nantucket’s classical cellist, has played with them at Pazzo. 

The band is busy every night playing at private parties, but their wildest gig is on Friday at Pazzo, a small Mediterranean eatery unfashionably located across from the Stop & Shop outside of town. They casually sit at a dining table in the middle of the packed restaurant and play their engaging music. The guests, first politely, tap on their tables along with the music, by the second set, they get more enthusiastic and stomp their feet… by the end of the evening everyone is jumping and dancing on every bit of available space including chairs and tables. The building shakes with the Coq au Vin beat. The music starts at 9:30 but the joint is jumping till way after midnight when Nantucket’s curfew kicks in. ...And there is Chris (my Wing Man) and I, dancing away the night!!!

Jammin' it up at Pazzo on Friday nights

An Appeal

Next Friday, the band has been invited to play at the Ossipe Valley Music Festival – They are thrilled to participate in this important event but are urgently trying to raise funds for their travel… attached is a link to the website where you can donate money to help defray their travel costs.

http://coqauvinband.com/Coq_Au_Vin/Ossipee.html

 

Thanks for your help,

Vladimir

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Boar’s Head and Yule Log Festival

 

Copyright Vladimir Kagan January 15, 2011

 

The most joyous of Christmas celebration does not necessarily take place on Christmas eve, nor even Christmas Day… it happens the twelfth night thereafter!.... (Or as close to it on the first Sunday in January). It’s The Boar’s Head and Yule Log Festival at Palm Beach’s Bethesda by the Sea Episcopal Church to celebrate the Epiphany. It dates back to Roman times as a pagan fête that acquired its modern interpretation as a Christian festival to celebrate the twelfth night after Christmas. Records indicate that the festival took place shortly after the founding of Queens College, Oxford in 1340. The Boar’s Head procession celebrated the deliverance of a young student, lost in a forest, being attacked by a raging Boar, who, with his quick wit, thrust his volume of Aristotle into the Boars throat and saved his life…it symbolized the victory of reason over brute force…to Christian’s it was the victory of Christ’s teaching over ignorance…. and thus the modern saga began.

 

(In Norman England the Boar was the sovereign of the great forests, a menace to man and a symbol of evil.)

 

Today’s festivity marked their 31^st presentation of this magical pageant. It is full of joy and symbolism. It is the purest form of devotion - of innocence - of love. It celebrates what Christianity expounds.

 

The beautifully decorated Alter of Bethesda by The Sea

Stained glass windows filtering the afternoon light

A Lone Beefeater awaiting his cue in the Church's courtyard

                                                                                       Palm Beach Daily News / Meghan McCarthy

Assembled Beefeaters ready to parade into the church

The proceedings started in hushed silence in the darkened church… only sunlight filtering through the beautiful stained glass windows. It burst into life with an endearing sprite, skipping down the darkened aisle, bearing a candle to the Rector of the Church, who in turn lit the candles on the altar and with it, the festive lights on the Christmas trees…. It symbolized the light that Christ shed on the earth. 

 

                                                                                    Palm Beach Daily News / Meghan McCarthy

My favorite person in the procession - the adorable little sprite in the middle of this photo

A brass ensemble of a French Horn, two trumpets and trombones proclaimed the start of the procession with a fanfare of uplifting Christmas music, followed by crimson costumed Beefeaters marching majestically down the isles…. the silence was broken by a piercing tap of the major domo’s spear and the proceedings exploded into life with an earsplitting eruption of snare-drums and pipes from Palm Beach’s Pipes and Drum Band, parading solemnly down the isles, playing Scottish melodies and the haunting hymn, Amazing Grace. (It was enough to raise goose bumps on your neck)… This was followed by the entrance of over 200 participants in glorious costumes including the choir, dancers, flag bearers, adorable children of all ages, followed by Heralds, a magnificently robed King Wenceslas and his page, the woodsmen with the Yule log, the shepherds in search of Christ; and finally the three kings, bearing their gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. To crown it off, standing high above the altar, a handsome young Joseph with an adoring Mary holding a live infant of 6 months, protected by a white angel.

The start of the procession - the Beefeaters majestically marching down the aisle

Beautifully embroidered crimson coats with the Scottish Rose and Crown

The boom boom boom of the drum accompanying the pipers

                                                                                      Palm Beach Daily News / Meghan McCarthy

                                                                                                                    Palm Beach Daily News / Meghan McCarthy

                                                                                                                      Palm Beach Daily News / Meghan McCarthy

A few of the cast of 200 parishioners that made this afternoon so unforgettable

The visual delight was heightened by the exquisite hymns that accompanied the Festival: The haunting “In the Bleak Midwinter” followed by familiar cheerful hymns such as “Deck The Halls” “The Twelve Days of Christmas”, the very beautiful “Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silent” by Gustav Holst and concluded with “O Come, All Ye Faithful”.

 

Last week I wrote of Operas with complex music and un-sing--able songs… This was music of joyous melodies with librettos of uplifting hope.

 

The afternoon was awash with cheerfulness and goodwill and closed with the dousing of the lights and the little sprite returning to skip down the aisle with the dignified Rector holding hands.

 

 

Post Script: I wish that the simplicity and purity of this celebration could have prevailed for all the ages… Sadly, its spirit has too often been distorted by ideologies that have inflicted much havoc in this world… This is poignant, as the Christ story is heart- warming – naïve – and full of love and devotion … whether you are a true believer or a skeptic, its charm is overwhelming…. This festival helps to keep his spirit alive!

 

All photos not credited to Meghan McCarthy are by Vladimir Kagan