Book spine haiku, Volume 5

a strange flower
for birds and butterflies
the autumn sky
– Matsuo Basho, Japanese poet of the Edo period

We leave September now, which was National Literacy Month, to enter the month of October and welcome back another edition of Book spine haiku, Volume 5. Volume 4 made its appearance in June. It’s amazing how time flies. Presenting two book spine haikus by my friend Laurel Kallenbach and two by me. Enjoy!

And if you have any to contribute for future volumes, send them to me via The Dress at 50’s Facebook page (since my commenting tool is still disabled).

Laurel's literary contribution.

Laurel’s literary contribution.

Interesting tidbit: I went to school with Dan Chaon at Syracuse.

Interesting tidbit: I went to school with Dan Chaon at Syracuse.

A haiku for two poets by yours truly.

A haiku for two poets by yours truly.

Wearing short sleeves and sandals until the temps drop.

Wearing short sleeves and sandals until the temps drop.

Black accessories pop against a green T-shirt.

Black accessories pop against a green T-shirt.

Green and black for fall with black accessories: MOMA ring (NYC), Carmela Rose earrings, and Batucada eco-friendly plastic necklace (Lava 9, Berkeley, CA).

Green and black for fall with black accessories: MOMA ring (NYC), Carmela Rose earrings, and Batucada eco-friendly plastic necklace (Lava 9, Berkeley, CA).

The last day of September and the waning days of our Indian summer.

The last day of September and the waning days of our Indian summer.

Raleigh, N.C.: The North Carolina Museum of Art and Rodin

In my mind I’m goin’ to Carolina
Can’t you see the sunshine
Can’t you just feel the moonshine
Ain’t it just like a friend of mine
To hit me from behind
Yes I’m goin’ to Carolina in my mind
– James Taylor, from “Carolina in My Mind”

John Rosenthal, Valle Crucis, 1979, archival digital print.

I loved this piece of art at NCMA: Valle Crucis, 1979, archival digital print, by John Rosenthal.

The first and last time I set foot in North Carolina was back in 1990. I was coming home after earning my graduate degree from Syracuse University, and my boyfriend at the time and I drove home to San Francisco taking the southern route. We didn’t stay very long in North Carolina, stopping for a bit in Asheville to appreciate the folk art and Appalachian crafts. We drove through the Blue Ridge Parkway, and I remember being in awe of the Blue Ridge Mountains, which were truly majestic. So it’s been 23 years since I’ve set foot in the state again.

The West Wing was built to give a roomful of Rodins the natural light it deserves.

The West Wing of NCMA was built to give a roomful of Rodins the natural light the sculptures deserve.

Rodin's The Kiss.

Rodin’s The Kiss.

NCMA
The past two days I was in Cary/Raleigh, North Carolina, for the second leg of my business trip this week. I worked out of my hotel room on Wednesday, but I took my lunch break at the North Carolina Museum of Art (2110 Blue Ridge Road, Raleigh, N.C. 27607, 919.839.6262) , which was a no-brainer, given that the museum was five miles from my hotel. The State legislature formed the museum in 1956 – making it first in the nation to have a state fund a major museum collection. Besides the proximity, I chose this as my destination point because I struck up a conversation with the woman in front of me in the Southwest Airlines line who was a local. She told me that the museum has an amazing collection of Rodin sculptures. Being a big fan of Rodin, I needed no other prompting.

Rodin sculpture in the garden.

Rodin sculpture in the garden.

Rodin in the garden.

Rodin in the garden.

I read that the museum has grown since its initial acquisition of 139 works of European and American art in 1947. Now it includes European painting from the Renaissance to the 19th century, Egyptian funerary art, sculpture and vase painting from ancient Greece and Rome, American art of the 18th through the 20th centuries, international contemporary art, very interesting Jewish ceremonial objects (of which NCMA is one of two permanent displays of Jewish art in an American art museum), and African, ancient American, pre-Columbian, and Oceanic art. A gift from the Iris and B. Gerald Cantor Foundation gave the museum 30 sculptures by Auguste Rodin, which gives the museum the distinction of being he leading repository of Rodin’s work in the southeastern United States.

More Rodins in the garden.

More Rodins in the garden.

I didn’t have the time to explore the 164-acre Museum Park, which features more than a dozen works of art that blend harmoniously with the local landscape of fields, woodlands, and creeks. Patrons can walk or bike and even take their dogs along the scenic trails. One of the trails begins with a cozy outdoor amphitheater and then plunges into a valley. Hiking the trails is something I would definitely recommend doing if one has the time. The September day was warm, but you could see the beginning of the turning of the leaves, which means the nights have gotten cooler now. I can only imagine what this area will look like in October.

Steel tree sculpture along the Museum Park Trail.

Steel tree sculpture along the Museum Park Trail.

Food coma at the Umstead Hotel and Spa
I had another business dinner to attend and lucky for me, we were treated at the Herons at the Umstead Hotel and Spa (100 Woodland Pond Drive, Cary, N.C., 27513, 919.447.4200), which was down the street and across the major thoroughfare from my humble Embassy Suites hotel. Expectations were extremely high, as the Herons has been awarded numerous accolades, including Five Stars from Forbes Travel Guide and Five Diamonds from AAA. A first for me, I was instructed to order four courses because our head server told us that if we didn’t there would be a lull for some people while others got their respective courses – a good enough reason for me. As there were 12 of us in a private room, we were served by two head waiters and literally an army of waiters and waitresses who timed with military precision when they set our plates before us.

Enormous wooden sculpture along the Museum Park Trail.

Enormous wooden sculpture along the Museum Park Trail.

The American fare was suffused with traditional and seasonal Southern ingredients sourced locally. “Forced” to order at least four courses (out of five), I chose the diver scallops with country ham, fennel, sweet corn and tomato; white asparagus soup with black olives, capers, and sheep’s milk cheese; eggplant with aged balsamic vinegar, oregano and artichoke; and peaches and cream with mascarpone, vanilla, and almond. Honestly, I couldn’t even finish my main entrée, although all courses were extremely worthy of their ratings. The presentation was amazing, and I had to restrain myself from surreptitiously snapping photos of my courses with my iPhone (had it not been a business dinner….). Regret versus embarrassment – it’s a toss-up. Needless to say, I walked out having not whipped out my iPhone and in a happy food coma.

I do hope to return to North Carolina and explore the Triangle, hang out in downtown Raleigh, where the State Capitol and other museums are, and, of course, catch a Durham Bulls game when in season.

My room with a view in Cary, N.C.

My room with a view in Cary, N.C.: Lots of trees, greenery, and blue skies.

Cleveland: rock and roll and vintage love in 24 hours

In designing this building it was my intention to echo the energy of rock and roll. I have consciously used an architectural vocabulary that is bold and new, and I hope the building will become a dramatic landmark for the city of Cleveland and for fans of rock and roll around the world.
– I.M. Pei, architect of The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum

Rock and roll in Cleveland
When I found out I was going to Cleveland for a business trip, I asked myself, “What is in Cleveland?” I was too busy to do any research before I left, but once I landed, my cab drivers and the concierge at my downtown hotel were quick to point out The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum (1100 Rock and Roll Boulevard, Cleveland, OH, 44114, 216.781.7625), which wasn’t very far from where I was staying. I scratched my head. In Cleveland? How did that come to be?

Outside the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum.

Outside the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum.

The museum is chockfull of detailed displays, by era, location, artist, and more.

The museum is chockfull of detailed displays, by era, location, artist, and more.

The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Foundation was founded in April 1983 by Atlanta Records founder and chairman Ahmet Ertegun. Ertegun and his assembled team began inducting artists in 1986 but the hall of fame did not have a permanent venue. Various cities lobbied to be the new home, including Detroit, Memphis, Cincinnati, and New York City, all of which had famous record studios and obvious ties to rock and roll music. Cleveland’s claims were legitimate ones – WJW disc jockey Alan Freed coined the term “rock and roll” and heavily promoted the emerging genre and the first major rock and roll concert – Freed’s Moondog Coronation Ball – was held in Cleveland. Furthermore, its radio station WMMS helped bolster the early careers of several artists in the U.S. in the 1970s and 1980s, including Bruce Springsteen and David Bowie, who began his first U.S. tour in Cleveland. The city pledged $65 million in public funds to build it, 600,000 fans signed a petition to locate it in Cleveland, and in a 1986 USA Today poll, respondents overwhelmingly chose Cleveland. Who knew?

One of Stevie Nicks' many signature outfits.

One of Stevie Nicks’ many signature outfits.

Entering the Rolling Stones exhibit!

Entering the Rolling Stones exhibit!

So there you have it. The pyramid-shaped building is quite striking, designed by architect I.M. Pei, and sits on the shore of Lake Erie, facing the downtown skyline, in the city’s nicely redeveloped North Coast Harbor. Six levels house tons of memorabilia. Given my time constraint, I whizzed through, but you could literally spend a day there, reading all the signs and admiring the instruments, music sheets, costumes, and more. A couple of theaters show this year’s inductees to the Hall of Fame, as well as a permanent exhibit called the Mystery Train, which chronicles the history of rock and roll. If you’re a Rolling Stones fan, you can fully appreciate a very packed, as in artifacts and information, exhibit, “Rolling Stones: 50 Years of Satisfaction.” It’s a fun place and worth a visit, but plan for at least half a day if not longer. Expect to be overwhelmed and dizzy by the end of your time there.

The impressive inside of the museum.

The impressive inside of the museum.

The Cleveland Shop's quaint storefront window.

The Cleveland Shop’s quaint storefront window.

Vintage love in Cleveland
The Cleveland Shop (6511 Detroit Avenue, Cleveland, 44102, 216.228.9725), a quality vintage, period costume rental, and consignment shop is the city’s oldest vintage shop. It opened its doors in 1979, but recently moved to its current location, in the west side of the city in Gordon Square. Voted Cleveland’s “best vintage,” the shop is well curated and nicely organized. The racks are divided by type of clothing and more importantly by decade. One half of the shop is vintage and the other half is the rental department where you can find your costume for Halloween or a themed party. They carry a big selection, for instance, of white vinyl go-go boots for those wanting to channel Nancy Sinatra from the 1960s and “walk all over” someone! Vintage to the Cleveland Shop is at least 25 years old, and they look for items from 1900 through 1970s, dipping occasionally into the 1980s. It’s definitely a great vintage shop to spend time in at a leisurely pace.

Racks of vintage clothing.

Racks and racks of vintage clothing.

Display case oozing with vintage costume jewelry.

Display case oozing with vintage costume jewelry.

All's quiet on an off-night Monday at the Cleveland Indians' baseball field.

All’s quiet on an off-night Monday at the Cleveland Indians’ baseball field.

Baseball, good food, buildings with character
If I had fully thought out my trip, I would have stayed an extra night and flown to Raleigh, N.C., my next business destination on Wednesday. Why? The Cleveland Indians were playing tonight and they are in the thick of the American League Wild Card race. They play in a beautiful downtown stadium, Progressive Field – insurance anyone? – that I zipped by about four times in my cab rides in the 27 hours I was in Cleveland. The ballpark, which holds more than 43,000, began construction in 1992. Now that would have been a fun game to watch, especially given that the Indians won, 5-4, and are tied for the two Wild Card slots. I also wish I had time to walk around the downtown area and take artsy photographs of the old buildings and historic statues.

An impressive fairly new stadium for baseball. Oakland, take note!

An impressive fairly new stadium for Cleveland baseball. Oakland, take note!

As for culinary experiences, I attended a business dinner at Table 45 Restaurant and Bar at the InterContinental Hotel (9801 Carnegie Avenue, Cleveland, 44106, 216.707.4045). For a hotel restaurant (the hotel is owned by the Cleveland Clinic and is on their campus), the food was very flavorful. Our party of nine shared appetizers – homemade tandoori naan with three dipping sauces, vegetable spring rolls, and an assortment of sushi. For my entrée, I ordered wild caught sockeye salmon and steamed coconut sticky rice wrapped in a banana leaf with Chinese broccoli and Thai glaze. The salmon was a touch dry, but otherwise a nice combination of flavors. I didn’t get a chance to finish my fresh blueberry crisp topped with sweet oatmeal crumb and lemon gelato because by that time everyone was leaving, which was just as well since I was quite satisfied with everything that had come before.

My room with a view from the downtown Marriott - a beautiful old church and old buildings with lots of character.

My room with a view from the downtown Marriott – a beautiful old church and old buildings with lots of character.

Twenty-seven hours later and I’ve already left Cleveland. Will I ever return? I actually hope so.

Just beyond the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum is Lake Erie.

Just beyond the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum is Lake Erie.

Welcome autumn and October ball

It breaks your heart. It is designed to break your heart. The game begins in the spring, when everything else begins again, and it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come, it stops and leaves you to face the fall alone.
– Bartlett Giamatti, former President of Yale and Commissioner of Baseball, from “The Green Fields of the Mind”

Ready for a ballgame, in yellow, of course.

Ready for a ballgame, in yellow, of course, and two shades of denim.

Dating back to my childhood, fall, or autumn, has always been my favorite season. There’s something about the change of light, the air turning cool, the march of holidays and celebrations that lead me to my favorite holiday, which is Christmas. Deep, flaming fall colors of red and orange and gold, leaves turning and raining down, leaving a vibrant downy cushion around tree trunks. Jacket weather, boots, scarves, mugs of hot drinks like hot cocoa and Peppermint Schnapps, fireplaces, down comforters and flannel sheets, longer nights, cozy evenings in.

But the first day of autumn, which was yesterday, also brings us to the last days of baseball, when magic numbers are real. Since I moved back to the Bay Area in 1990, I have been a San Francisco Giants fan, following my father’s footsteps and heart, going to the wilderness that was Candlestick Park and watching games in the middle of summer wearing a jacket and still freezing! When I wasn’t at the games, I was raptly listening to the radio when Barry Bonds came to town and created a stir in a team that had largely been asleep. I remember the horrible slump, when all they had to do was win one game against the Atlanta Braves in 1993 and couldn’t, and ended up with more than 100 wins that season, second best in baseball, but without the benefit of the Wild Card, which hadn’t come into being yet. Despite their winning ways, we could go to Candlestick Park and move down to more desirable seats because only the hearty few attended games there. I watched the downtown stadium being built – PacBell Park, AT&T Park, following the mergers of telecommunications companies. Suddenly, the Giants were popular, and while the stadium was beautiful, we bemoaned the mobile phone crowd who filled up the stadium but couldn’t tell you what RISP stood for (runners in scoring position, just in case you didn’t know).

Mix washes of denim with colored denim and equally colorful accessories.

Mix washes of denim with colored denim and equally colorful accessories.

Lava 9 ring and earrings (Berkeley, CA).

Lava 9 ring and earrings (Berkeley, CA).

When I moved to the East Bay, I fiercely kept my loyalty to the Giants.  My husband has been an Oakland A’s fan since he was a kid. My son became an Oakland A’s fan. And then a funny thing happened. I watched the games with them, reminding me of how our family used to watch baseball on television during the hot summer evenings when I was a child and even through high school. I started to get to know the players. We went to a few more games, a handful of them walk-off wins. We didn’t realize what was happening at the time.

I knew the Oakland A’s had one of the lowest payrolls in the majors, and yet here they were winning games without a high-priced superstar, winning games with different heroes in different games. There were stories to break your heart. The relief pitcher whose wife gave birth and then lost the baby within hours. The veteran outfielder who is in the twilight of his career literally finds new legs in a small market. The Crash Davises who made it to the Show but could never make it to stay for good. Those are stories that make up the heart of a team. When they won the American League West Division on the last day of the regular season last year, sweeping the team who was in the lead, I thought to myself, this is magical, this is pretty special, but it likely won’t last because logic says teams like this don’t go all the way. So enjoy it while you can. So we did, and when they lost to the Detroit Tigers in the first round and my son cried, I told him, hey, this team is pretty special and you were part of that year. Celebrate what they accomplished. Celebrate the moment. Celebrate because it probably won’t happen next year. I was trying to be realistic. Baseball is a game of inches and feet, of probability and statistics, of first to last and last to first. And of magic and belief.

A memorable autumn day, September 22, 2013, in Oakland.

A memorable autumn day, September 22, 2013, in Oakland.

I’m glad I was wrong. We went to more games this year, saw everything else on television. It was fun to watch the games with my son. There were fewer walk-offs, but that’s because the team got better and gained more confidence. They stumbled in August and then came roaring back in September. We kept the faith and we were rewarded. They won a week before the regular season ended, and we were there to celebrate. Whatever happens, I tell my son, just enjoy it. That’s what baseball’s all about. Enjoy it, especially as autumn arrives with a division championship as a reward for all the hard work through spring and summer. Now I can welcome autumn, welcome my favorite season of the year, with October baseball. Congratulations, Oakland A’s! Respect the underdog! For the underdogs always have the most poetic stories, the ones that teach us about the heart of the matter and a whole lot of magic.

Let’s go, Oakland!
(and while we’re at it, let’s build a downtown stadium in Oakland)

Ready for the October classic!

Ready for the October classic!

A Village in the Fields: Excerpt 3

Yes, I will be a writer and make all of you live again in my words.
– Carlos Bulosan, Filipino American novelist and poet, from America Is in the Heart: A Personal History

As I look ahead to the last two chapters, 13 and 14, of the final revision of my novel-in-progress, A Village in the Fields, I offer one scene from Chapter 3 in which my protagonist Fausto Empleo relates to his nurse and friend, Arturo Esperanza, his memories of coming to America:

No sleeves and shorts for the last gasp of our Indian summer in September.

No sleeves and shorts for the last gasp of our Indian summer in September.

Fausto shrugged, trying to think of something. Before they could get on the ship headed for America, he and Benny had to take many tests in Manila. The blank-faced doctors poked Fausto’s and Benny’s testicles and penises with cold metal rods, and scribbled notes in silence. For a thick wad of pesos, the doctors handed over papers that declared Fausto and Benny “bacterially negative.” The two paid a handsome fee for the document that proclaimed them citizens of the Philippine Islands who could travel freely to America by way of the S.S. President Jackson.

He hadn’t spoken the ship’s name in decades. Son-of-a-gun, Fausto laughed, how the ship’s propeller rumbled the entire trip! It sat below the stern side of the third-class passenger section, but to Fausto it was lodged in his head like a great mechanical heartbeat gone mad. His bunk bed vibrated. In the dining saloon, cold bean-paste soup spilled out of their bowls. Knives and forks rattled menacingly against steel tables.

He didn’t know other Filipinos could travel outside of third class until he saw a group of them on deck one evening. The men, their hair slicked back and shiny with pomade, wore suits and bow ties. The women wore high-heeled shoes and hats that hugged their heads and sprouted feathers. Fausto asked one of the men where they were staying when they walked by. He hadn’t seen them, or any well-dressed Filipinos for that matter, in third class. The men and women exchanged glances.

“We speak Tagalog,” one of them said in English. “We are students— pensionados—not laborers. Can you not see by the way we are dressed, boy?”

Carmela Rose vintage earrings and Sundance ring and bracelet.

Carmela Rose vintage earrings and Sundance ring and bracelet.

The women laughed behind their gloved fingers. Benny grabbed Fausto’s arm so the two of them could leave, but Fausto stood his ground. The pensionados were trying to get into one of the social rooms, but the steward, who was Ilocano and as dark as cured tobacco leaves, shook his head. The man who had spoken to Fausto poked his finger at the steward. He spoke loudly enough in English for Fausto to hear. They were staying in second class and had the right to enter the smoking room. It was the third time they had been denied access. The pensionado removed his spectacles, as if to show off his fair skin or the lack of pinch marks on the bridge of his nose because his nose was narrow and delicate, not fleshy. The steward folded his arms, replying in Ilocano that only first-class guests could use the smoking room. Besides, he added, no matter how well they dressed or behaved, the white passengers would not welcome them.

“Speak Tagalog!” the pensionado barked to the steward, and turned on his heel.

The group retreated, approaching Fausto and Benny again. The pensionado brushed shoulders with Fausto. As they disappeared below deck, Fausto thought to go after the man, but Benny pulled him toward the nearest stairwell and pointed at the deck above where the first-class passengers had gathered.

As the S.S. President Jackson chugged away from the port of Hong Kong, the passengers gawked at the Chinese families whose sampans were being tossed about in the white water that churned beneath the propellers. Using their oars, mothers and fathers, elderly men and women, clashed with other sampans for position. The children reached out to the passengers, who waved and leaned over the rail, laughing. The families called out in their native dialect. One man torpedoed fruit into the water. A red apple struck a girl’s jaw. Only after she had eaten it whole did she massage the side of her face and lick the blood from the corner of her mouth.

Other passengers threw coins that disappeared in the froth, but it didn’t stop the men and boys from diving in. A fistful of coins came raining down, and Fausto and Benny gasped as a tiny boy kicked off the edge of the boat with frog-like legs. The rope knotted around his waist and attached to the sampan uncoiled in the air with a snap and was pulled tight. After a few moments, an older sibling yanked at the rope and the boy’s head popped up from the sea. Water flowed from his clothes and hair as he was pulled in. His arms and legs hung limp as seaweed over the side of the sampan. But he held up his hand. Silvery disks flashed between his fingers, and his brothers and sisters piled on top of him, hugging him and patting his head. The passengers clapped. The men whistled their approval. And then they all dispersed. Fausto lost sight of the boy. Soon, the S.S. President Jackson outran the sampans, although the mothers and fathers continued to row, refusing to return to shore, even as the sun dipped below the horizon.

Grape and maroon colors for September.

Grape and maroon colors for September, with belt featuring two tugging elephants.

Behold the summer bouquets: Volume 7

My garden is my most beautiful masterpiece.
– Claude Monet, founder of French impressionist painting

We are on the edge of autumn, although summer is trying to hang on. My last bouquet was a few weeks ago, but I have memories of the last gasp of my dahlias. So as a way to say goodbye to summer, I present my last three bouquets. Enjoy!

A late-August bouquet.

A late-August bouquet.

My second to the last summer bouquet for the winning bidder of my Portola Middle School auction item.

My second to the last summer bouquet for the winning bidder of my Portola Middle School auction item.

The very last summer bouquet of early September for the auction winner.

The very last summer bouquet of early September for the auction winner.

A summer outfit of the color of shimmering water.

A summer outfit with a print that captures shimmering water.

Earrings from Waterlily (Portland, ME), Lava 9 ring (Berkeley, CA), and Sundance cuff.

Earrings from Waterlily (Portland, ME), Lava 9 ring (Berkeley, CA), and Sundance cuff.

Close-up of the splashy print.

Close-up of the splashy print.