Let’s face it fruitcake has a bad rap. Like many others I looked askance at this holiday heavyweight for years.  About fours years ago I got the idea to start making them.  Don’t ask me why, since I’d never been much interested in the stuff.  Perhaps its like my sudden interest in opera at age 48, it is just something that you grow into.  I wonder what will be next:  NASCAR, gambling, QVC?.  Perhaps it is the byproduct of advancing age, the rigid mental barriers breakdown and one can’t recall longtime biases and habits; “Humm..  haven’t I always loved fruitcake?  You know I really should start making it”.

A local cafe makes an “all natural” loaf, that is with real dried fruit, that I had many years ago and found to my liking.  That kind of cake fits more with my approach to food than the candied varieties that we are all familiar with.  I began to look for recipes.  I eventually found one that looked promising in the “Joy Of Cooking” pg 977.  I modified the recipe slightly and of course use dried fruit rather than candied, its fabulous.  The combination of intense spices (nutmeg, cinnamon, mace, cloves), dried fruit, molasses and brandy produce a marvelously complex taste sensation.  As the cake ages it gets even better as things start to mingle and interact.  I’ve never been able to keep mine for more than a few months (I’m very undisciplined) but I have eaten one year old cake made by a friend and can report that they definitely improve with time.  They are reputed to last for years with enough alcohol in them and under proper storage.

Over the years I’ve given them away as Christmas gifts to family and friends.  Last year I overcooked almost the entire batch (dark pans, avoid them if possible) and didn’t give many away, consuming them at home (they are too expensive to just throw away).  I took a couple of loaves to Mt Athos and they came in handy on a number of occasions. 

It is very rewarding to make something and give it as a gift at holiday time yet, at the same time there is a certain pleasure in watching people squirm when I hand one over.  Sometimes it is a look of panic or dread, as if I just asked them to hold a bag of dog poop.  “Oh my God, what am I going to do with this thing?” they must be thinking.  “I hope he is not going to ask me to cut it up and eat it now!”

When I bring a cake to Christmas parties there is a similar reaction, people eat around them at the cookie table.  Since mine don’t quite look like the typical fruitcake there is also the basic instinct to avoid the unknown.  Sugar cookies with silver beads and green and red sprinkles, now those are safe to eat.  I go on the offensive and immediately starting eating some encouraging others around me to do so.  The few brave ones are pleasantly surprised to discover that the lowly fruitcake is perhaps the only item at the desert table of any substance and tastes great.  There are even a few folks now who look forward to them. 

Watch out the fruitcakes are in the mail!

My dad suddenly appears in the doorway, "you better get down here, I think this is it" he exclaims and disappears. Tim and I weary from a long night on “death watch” and three weeks of all night shifts watching over him have been taking a break, dozing in the visitors’ lounge.  The fear that he would die on someone else’s watch has been nagging at me from the start.  Now the time had come.  We stagger to our feet and dash down the hall bursting through the room’s double airlock doors.  I sit at his feet on the right side of the bed.  I’m not really sure why but I put my hand on his chest.  My mother holds one hand (as she has done most of the night), Eddie, his partner, the other. My father is at the head of the bed close to his face.  Tim is on the other side of the bed across from me.

The haunting drone of spastic breathing of the past 12 hours, as he lay comatose, is now replaced by what must certainly be the “death rattle”.  In a matter of seconds his chest heaves reflexively, he gasps, pulling his hands out of Eddie’s and my mother’s grasp. His face ashens as the warmth of the human soul departs. His entire body seems to deflate.  Life is leaving him and we collectively cheer him on.  In an instant he is gone yet, surprisingly we are not distraught. In fact I don’t believe any of us even shed a tear.  We had shed many tears over the past weeks, had many close calls, now we were exhausted and numb. The long night, the many years of worry were over. 

My last look at him in that terrible room is from the hallway. His cold lifeless body, once so strong and agile is bathed in sunlight beaming through the window like a spotlight… his final curtain call (oh.. he would not be happy with the hairdo!).  Bravo my dear brother!  Good show!

Over the 13 years since my brother David’s death of AIDS I have been trying to figure out how to talk about it.  From the very moment of my arrival in NYC in early November, until we buried him back home, it was as if I were in some kind of scripted drama, in a movie. Over and over I found myself stepping back and thinking how surreal the given moment was, how vivid, how rich. “This can’t be happening like this” I would think.  My difficultly over the years lie not in coming to grips with the loss but in finding a way to convey what I can honestly say is the most incredible three weeks of my entire life. I’ve never felt so alive; nothing remotely compares, not even the birth of my children. 

What better setting for drama than NYC, hold up with my brother and his friends. Gay men and drama just go together. I had made many a trip to NYC in the years leading up to his death, unfortunately often as the result of some health crisis and had gotten to know many of them quite well.  Spending time with them was like being in an episode of “Seinfeld” and “Will and Grace” all rolled into one, it was a laugh a minute!  The love my brother’s friends had for him was astonishing, particularly that of his best friend Tim.  For me being in this loving open environment was liberating. We laughed, we cried, often it seems in the same breathe. David was in there right along with us (in between visits from our departed grandmother Coles and Marilyn Monroe) laying in bed, blind, fighting for his life cracking jokes and dissing with the best of them.

A week or so earlier he asked Eddie and I to go make funeral arrangements for him, I broke down and lay at his side weeping uncontrolably.  When I composed myself he promptly directed us to pick out a simple casket… “something in mahogany” he said and .. “see if we can get the Judy Garland Room” at Frank Campbell ( the funeral parlor where she was laid out).  We all busted out in laughter!

We were all there for David, to help him come what may. Little did we know that in the process he was helping us, helping us let go of him. 

Nowadays the life and death struggle of AIDS seems very distant from our awareness.  Back in the late 80s and early 90s suffering and death was a regular part of life in the gay community. The drug cocktail that now allows many to live relatively normal lives was years off. Then the struggle to find treatments for the many diseases of AIDS was literally a battle waged against the government and drug companies. David and a number of his friends were on the front lines of that battle, fighting to survive and fighting so that others might live as part of the controversial activist group ACT UP

David’s personal battle with AIDS was a difficult one marked by many horrific illnesses that ultimately left him blind. When I couldn’t reach him at home I’d call Lenox Hill Hospital (see my rolladex card to the right) to see if he was there.  It was at Lenox Hill 7th floor, the AIDS ward, that he spent his final days. 

With this entry I hope to begin recounting this tale in more detail not so much for the reader’s benefit but for my own.  I miss my dear brother terribly (that’s us together in the header image at the top of this page just behind the word “counting").  His death was a life transforming event. I pray that telling the tale will perhaps complete the transformation.

I was once asked to name a person that I looked-up to or admired, someone that was influential in my life. Put on the spot, having to think fast, I could only think of one name, George Harrison.  Ok, I know what your thinking, a Beatle, come on you can do better than that!  Well, sorry but its true!  Call me shallow but, its George.  I even strongly considered naming our son Harrison.  I’ve always been a Beatles fan since the very first time I saw them on the Ed Sullivan Show in 1964.  Sitting around the TV, as we did almost every Sunday night, Ed with his classic “stone-faced” delivery..... 

”Now, yesterday and today, our theater’s been jammed with newspapermen and hundreds of photographers from all over the nation, and these veterans agree with me that the city never has witnessed the excitement stirred by these youngsters from Liverpool who call themselves the Beatles,’’ the audience went wild. Barely able to be heard he continued… “Now tonight you’ll be entertained twice by them—right now and in the second half of the show. Ladies and gentlemen, the Beatles!”

Listen to an NPR story on the “Beatles Coming to America” in celebraton of the 40th anniversary.

It is hard to explain the influence the Beatles had on my generation.  Each album and TV appearance was an eagerly anticipated event, often one that had an evolutionary if not revolutionary impact on music and popular culture. Take their appearance on The David Frost show of “Hey Jude” in Sept 1968 for instance. What could better capture the spirit of the era than that setting and song, it has taken on an almost “anthem-like” status in American culture. When Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band was released the sound was so revolutionary that it was shocking and not easy to assimilate. I didn’t like it and promptly put it away, not listening to it again for months.  Now, of course, it is regarded as one of the greatest albums of all time.

George was always my favorite Beatle.  There was something intreging about George. Certainly there were better guitar players and song writers, yet if you look at the body of his work and listen carefully you realize how terrific he really was. He wasn’t flashy but like many of the “greats” he always seemed to do the right thing, add just the right lick at just the right time to make everything work.  If you are a Harrison fan I highly recommend watching the Concert for George DVD. What an incredible concert! When you hear other fabulous musicians (Eric Clapton, Tom Petty, Jeff Lynn, Billy Preston, Ringo, Paul, among others) playing George’s songs you get a whole new perspective on his music. Watching it inspired me to write this story!

Beatles fans will recall that the group got involved briefly with Maharishi Mahesh Yogi in 1968.  For the rest of the band this was a fleeting encounter with Eastern thought and practice but for George it was the beginning of a life-long journey. George wrote and sang about the spiritual life about seeking enlightenment, about God.  At a time when many of us were questioning conventional religion, rejecting our own our religious upbringing George was talking openly about seeking God (the Hindu ones that is). 

Forgive me lord
Please, those years when I ignored you, hmm
Forgive them lord
Those that feel they can’t afford you, hmm

Help me lord, please
To rise above this dealing, hmm
Help me lord, please
To love you with more feeling, hmm

“Hear Me Lord”
From: All Things Must Pass

Tyler Swan, 2003For me this helped opened the door to a spiritual quest of my own influenced by such books as:The Natural Mind, Be Here Now, The Autobiography of a Yogi, The Psychedelic Experience: A Manual Based on the Tibetan Book of the Dead , The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test, The Doors of Perception among others (hey, I’m a child of the 60s, what do you expect!). Of course I won’t go into the gory details (perhaps at another time) but I credit George, in part, with inspiring my journey as misdirected as it has been at times.  Now, as you have read elsewhere in this site, I’m back home where I belong, the Orthodox Church… namaste George!

When you’ve seen beyond yourself-
then you may find, peace of mind, Is waiting there-
And the time will come when you see
we’re all one, and life flows on within you and without you

“Within You Without You”
From: Sgt Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band

Early Beatle clip “I Saw Her Standing There” at Google Video
Concert for George Website
Concert for Bangladesh See some great clips from the concert
GeorgeHarrison.com Flash intensive site with some great media
All Things Must Pass Shockwave and Flash intensive and a bit too far-out but some interesting tidbits on this amazing album.
George Harrison Lyrics

My kids have a longstanding habit of calling before coming home at dinner time and asking “what are you making for dinner?” I’m not quite sure if this a vote of confidence in my cooking skills or an attempt to assess their options; I think the latter. I’m the chief cook in our household and have always been one to wait until the last minute to decide what to cook for dinner. Of course I do plan ahead on important occasions but I enjoying playing the game with myself trying to make something out of what is on hand at the very last minute. The phone rings..."I’m on the 5:30 ferry..see you in 20 minutes”, I spring into action. I even amaze myself sometimes because often I have no idea what I’m going to make until I look at what’s hanging around to work with. 

Like most cooks I have my standard repertoire of meals, some family favorites others not so appealing to all. I like to experiment.  I’m not one to do things the same twice.  When asked “what was in that dish you served last week?”, unfortunately I often can’t recall, I rarely write things down, or follow a recipe and thus may only have a general idea. Now this habit is not foolproof, I don’t fail often but when I do it is usually big, rendering a meal that only I will eat.  My daughter Lorean once exclaimed with an anguished look.. “Dad, why don’t you just make regular food?”.  Regular food… what’s that? 

One of the benefits of being a vegetable gardener is that the possibilities for the last minute are greatly expanded. I’ve even been known to pickup a flash light and head out into the woods looking for chantrel mushrooms in my last minute flurry.  Although it is Fall and the garden is on the wane there are still a few things growing.  In the picture above you will note a lovely cauliflower, chard and bok choy (but of course you recognized them!) the eventual ingredients in a last minute stir fry.. very tasty.  You will also note the inserted photo of me showing a cooking aptitude at an early age.  No, that is not the same apron.  Don’t ask me what’s in what I made, I told you I can’t recall such things.

One of my last minute innovations that has now moved to standard family fare and is a universal hit with the kids (when they are all at home that is) is pizza with artichoke hearts, sundried tomatoes, vegan cheese if we are fasting feta and mozzarella if we are not, garlic, onions, olives, pine nuts, basil on a homemade crust.  It really is great, feel free to give it a try.  I recommend Costco for the main ingredients, their feta is cheap and the best around.... of course this requires that the reader plan ahead!

Now if my family can only get through all the telemarketer calls tonight at dinner time so I know when to start dinner! 

There is something about a great ending that regardless of what has gone on before brings a feeling of elation and fulfillment that leaves one wanting more, to do it all over again. By “great ending” I mean an ending that somehow adds to one’s understanding and appreciation of an event or performance.  A “great ending” need not make one feel “good” or tie-up all the loose ends, that’s the easy way out.  A “great ending” provokes, it stirs, it moves us to a new level of awareness, perhaps allowing us to see things in a new light.

This notion was brought home so clearly this past week by two very different theatrical events. The first is Wagner’s monumental work the “Ring des Nibelungen”, four operas: Das Rheingold , Die Walküre, Siegfried, Götterdämmerung staged over a one week period. I had the great pleasure of seeing the Seattle Opera’s production last week. For seventeen hours over four nights I was drawn into Wagner’s mythic world that explores as no other opera work before it, the depths of the human psyche via words and music. It is an outlandishly twisted tale that draws from both Germanic/Norse mythology, the politics of the mid-19th century, and the influential philosophies of the time.  With three of the four operas at five or more hours at times it is an endurance contest, with moments of frustration and impatience when one thinks .."why can’t he (Wagner) just got on with it!” after taking 30 minutes to have two characters express their love for each other and embrace. Yet, the very next minute Wagner will hook you and draw you back in with a expressive melodic line or leitmotif (see and a hear), it is pure genius.  People literally come from all over the world to see these productions, many avid Wagner lovers who have seen the Ring Cycle many times over (if you think a normal opera crowd is old, you should see a Ring crowd!).  Just being in that kind of committed crowd is enjoyable in itself.  Of course there a a few who take things a bit far and strut around during intermissions wearing a viking helmet but generally speaking it is a very serious enthusiastic crowd.

Back to the idea of a “great ending”.. in the last of the four operas, Götterdämmerung (Twilight of the Gods), the final scene in Stephen Wadworth’s Seattle production was breathtaking. The “ring” (the object of everyone’s obscession) has been returned to the Rhinemaidens and order has been restored but the rein of the"gods" has come to an end and Valhalla goes up in flames.  The scene was simply stunning, it left me thinking (in spite of the fact that we sprinted out the door to catch of ferry) “wow, the time and expense ($110/seat/night!) were all worthwhile, this was something really special to be a part of”. 

As I usually do before any opera, I try to listen to the music ahead of time. I’ve been working on the Ring for months. One doesn’t go through 17 hours of music easily.  Wagnerian opera does not make good background music around the house in ways that operas of Mozart, Puccini or Verdi do.  I had a hard time connecting with it quite honestly, as I do with most of Wagner’s operas before I see them.  I listened to Scenes 2 and 3 from Das Rheingold the other day and heard it in a whole new light...it was marvelous.  There is so much going on in these operas that a small foothold helps bring things into focus.  If you asked me after the third opera, Seigfried, if I’d go again the answer would have been NO, now, I’d pony up the big bucks without question.... “great endings” have the power to do that.

Now to the second “great ending”. I have been a longtime fan of the HBO show ”Six Feet Under”. Created by Alan Ball, the Academy Award winning writer of ”American Beauty”, the show takes a “darkly comic look at life and death from the perspective of a dysfunctional family that owns and operates an independent funeral home in California”. From the fabulous opening theme music and credits ,created by a Seattle company Digital Kitchen, to the dark and off-beat story lines it is great television in my view.  I highly recommend renting the first season, it comes on four episode DVDs. As with many programs, I think the first season was the best and most inventive.

At any rate.. I just happened to catch the show’s last episode the other night and the last 15 minutes was one of those “great endings”. In the imagination/daydream of one of the characters, Claire, as she drives off “into the sunset” are death scenes of each of the show’s characters.  Now if you aren’t familiar with the program you are probably thinking “what? how morbid!”, but every episode of the series starts with a death in a short one minute or so vignette.  Remember, the program is centered around the funeral business. The eventual funeral of that person becomes a minor background theme for the episode, it is very clever.  Getting back to what I said at the top, I was left with a feeling of satisfaction, that what I had enjoyed about this inventive program was confirmed by the well done finale.

As they say at the opera… “Bravo!”

The Ring family tree
Great Ring des Nibelungen resource
Six Feet Under at HBO