Tuesday morning with Thanksgiving week breezes,
It is so nice not to have a kitchen to call my own. No pressure to cook Turkey, stuffing or sweet potato & marsh-mellow pie, which reminds me of my dear Grandma Rossmoore! She is my tiny, deaf-ish grandmother whom I affectionately referred to as "Naggy".
For years after my parents divorced, we divided holidays between parents. My father got us on Thurksgiving and Mom got us for Christmas. Thanksgiving was always with all my 15 Rossmoore cousins. We would all gather at "Naggy's" apartment on 5th Avenue overlooking Central Park... and the Hudson. She was on the 19th glorious floor with a terrace and breathtakingly sweeping views.
We would all go to the old classic hotel "THE WESTBURY" with its Polo Lounge. It was on 69th and Madison and is now a condominium. But... for decades: it was a fabulous hotel and gathering hole. Grandma would reserve the second floor: the private rooms- where we would have appetizers and cocktails (not me.... I was too young) and then sit for a privately catered Thanksgiving feast. I don't associate Thanksgiving with 'home cooked ' feasts. I think of them with family and served. It is a bit different picture than the ones found on the covers of Saturday Evening Post. But, that is my heritage, my memory and my family experience.... as a citified kinda gal.
She took me to Europe for my first time overseas when I was 15 1/2. She took me on a two month cruise including two trans-Atlantic crossings... to places like Trondheim, Visby, Oban, Geiranger. Huh? It was the summer of 1966.... Mia Farrow, with her short blond bob had married Frank Sinatra, who crooned the ballad "Strangers in the Night". I was young and to me, going to Europe meant seeing "London, Paris, Rome". Not Bergen, Myrdal or Helsinki. But, my naiveté finally gave way to fascination, my first French Kiss, 2 months of private Ballroom dance lessons... and a world in which confidence would shine.
When I was a little girl, my parents were the first family in this little chic chic suburb of Manhattan called Manhassett. It was scandalous when my parents separated and divorced. They were young, rich, beautiful .... and lived in an amazingly modern home which was all glass. Built in 1950, the same year I was born, this home had an indoor gymnasium with a trampoline, basketball nets... and windows! Tall, grand sweeping windows which let the light into a sad interior space. I learned early on that living in a pretty home does not make people happy.
And although I live in my dream home: it is MY DREAM home. It is not an opulently grand house... as I have never aspired for that- as I learned the secret a long time ago. A DREAM HOME is where there is warmth, calm, openness, peace and light.
Didn't get mind candy last night at the museum. But, the TREE HOUSE was lovely and I learned about how various plants were used 5,000 years ago. So, it kept my interest and piqued my brain cells a bit along the way. Saw a stunning 90+ year old lady last night whom I know from Pine Manor. She graduated from there two years before I was born. She is stunningly beautiful... articulate, feisty in a most classy way... and an inspiration for growing gracefully more antique.
Today: I must take everything off the floor in my makeshift bedroom at Carlyle's home, as she is getting new wooden floors to replace the gross carpeting which has been doubling as the doggies' relieving area. Packing up AGAIN! Thank goodness: it is only chihuahua relief.
Have a grand Tuesday. Another adventure of life, learning and play begins again today
Judy
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