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Polar bear with carrot

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Que Será, Será.

The San Francisco show failed to ever fire. I could have just as soon pulled two thousand dollars out of my pocket and set it aflame. The mint is a wonderful old girl, purportedly haunted, and only 90 million dollars away from renovation. My booth was in a once grand room with a marble fireplace. It was a fun place to do a show, but there is no show if there are no buyers. Out of 40 dealers I am only aware of one dealer who made money.

This is the second such fiasco with this particular promoter, a man whose heart is on the right place but has failed to understand the basic calculus that promoting a new show requires a lot of initial advertising. Too many people were unaware of the event. Plus, the downtown location is a magnet for some of the most wacked out psychotics I have ever laid eyes on, including the kind soul who took a shit in the doorway on the second day.

The facility manager gave me carte blanche to go to some of the floors and outlying rooms that are off limits and I had a good time exploring the place. Needs a lot of love and a wealthy philanthropist or two.

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Irrespective of the fact that the show was a financial loser, it had its moments including maybe the greatest impromptu moment I have ever experienced in the business. All day long we were hit with this clarinet version of Que sera sera, the old Doris Day hit. I was walking down the hallway Sunday afternoon facing my pal Michael Haber, a jewelry dealer from Philly. Simultaneously we started to belt out the song full blast and in pretty good harmony.. Suddenly like something from Fame or Glee, heads started popping out of every door and the whole building was singing at the top of our lungs and in key. Whatever will be, will be...It was the absolute best, a poignant and funny moment that will never be topped. A bit of cathartic release for some grizzled veterans who would fail to finish in the money.

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Leslie and I went to our favorite Bay Area restaurant, Creola in San Carlos for our anniversary dinner. We started off with pomegranate martinis. Leslie had bourbon shrimp with a marmalade horseradish dipping sauce. I had the shrimp and crab fennel bisque. Les tried the blue note salad but switched goat cheese for blue.

For my entree I had the Taste of New Orleans, soft shell crab along with crawfish and shrimp etouffe. Leslie had wasabi encrusted seared ahi with a miso soy base on napa cabbage. Great bread. We have had so many great dinners at this great neighborhood restaurant in San Carlos but this might have been the best of them all. They put us in a nice quiet romantic corner. No room for dessert, unfortunately, they do the killer beignets and crème brûlée bread pudding. Awesome dinner with the woman I love, the woman who puts up with me.

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We managed to see most of our pals, Cathy, Melissa, Gary, Denis, Kathy, K., Bigdave. Michael L. Doctor Rick. The Oakland meal with the writers and poets was particularly interesting. I thought that my bunch was wild. We had breakfast one morning with M. Dung, Leslie's old pal from her days in radio in Detroit and Grand Rapids. Hadn't seen Dung, a radio icon in the Bay Area for almost twenty years. He is a total gas.

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Drove to the V.A. home in Fresno and saw my father, who is suffering from early to mid stage dementia. He didn't know my name but recognized me and said that I was looking fat. He is under the impression that he is in the army. He was but that was way back in World War II. He was very glad to see us, very happy to see his wife, who is going to spring him tomorrow.

He was a big guy in his prime but has turned into a little man in his dotage. Looking quite frail and aged. Is really sweet now. The long term health plan is limited to two years of home care and she is trying to be judicious about using it, a very delicate balancing act. Hopefully my step mother can keep getting little breaks for her own mental health and sanity.

My father was a brilliant man who spoke four languages, had a superb mathematical and analytical mind, loved physics, economics and puzzles. Ace black jack player, he taught me the ropes at the Sahara, which I just heard is closing. Time strikes us all down eventually. I hope that his remaining days are as graceful and as painless as possible for all concerned.



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I have come back with a small head cold. Hope to be in some kind of groove soon.

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

Dear Robert,
Thank you for remembering me enough to send your latest blog. I was, of course, very taken by the photos of your father and grandfather, my first cousin and uncle. My recollection of your family dates back to 1938 when Israel came to live with us in Detroit and then brought Pessa, Amos, and Tertza to America.
Many many memories and events I am still able to recall and describe including the first store on Warren ave. in Detroit, your parents wedding, The stag party for your dad's upcoming marriage at UCLA, the moves to California while i was in the 5th army band, our participation in Habonim--I stayed with it longer than your dad---,as I wrote "many many memories of long ago".
Tho two photos of my cousin Amos clicked off a stream in my brain but I was saddened to see him at this stage in his life. He is slightly older than I and would hope he can remember me and all the good times we shared.
You appear to have an eclectic interest in all aspects of life based on having read your entire blog.
My wife and I are off to Hawaii on the the 23rd--next monday--to visit my grandaughter, Jennifer and participate in her wedding celebration and to catch my first glimpse of my great grandson, Zander Marcus Blythe. My fourth great grandchild.
Making children has never presented a problem for the Szcarlat or Marcuschamer family.
Thanks again,
Ralph

grumpy said...

the Que Sera story is priceless, thanks for sharing it...

Sanoguy said...

Robert... I too am going through the process of losing a parent. It is my 95 year old Dad. Always an active, interesting guy. He now has pretty advance dementia and is moving from a skilled nursing center to home on hospice. The end is nigh. It is sad when we have to leave this world without remembering how great the trip was!!

Anonymous said...

Live every moment like it is your last, one day it will be. Sing, dance, throw a disc, while you still can. I intend to pretend tomorrow is the last day and dig the hell out of today. My mother is in her second year bed bound and helpless with only a whisper of a memory in flashes left to her name. I hope to check out before that bill comes due.
Deli Guy**