I’m going to go ahead and give Wicked (the movie) two thumbs up. Five stars. A standing O.
I thoroughly enjoyed it. The two leads (Ariana Grande as Glinda and Cynthia Erivo as Elphaba) are captivating and the movie magic is off the charts. It’s sort of Harry Potter meets Willy Wonka meets Legally Blonde, yet it retains all the heart of the original, beloved Wicked Broadway musical.
If you know the Broadway musical, the movie is Act One only. It ends when gravity is defied. Part two will be out next year and I will most certainly be getting a ticket.
I don’t want to spoil it for anyone so I won’t describe my favorite scenes or the very cool cameo appearances, but I will tell you that our movie theater of 300+ seats did not have an empty one last night and people clapped at the end. Even straight men seemed to like it. My husband described it as “good!” and said he liked the story (a rave for him, for a musical).
Despite the ban, I did sing along quietly in a few parts, but with the “Dolby Atmos” immersive surround sound, I don’t think anyone heard me. Hollywood pulled out ALL the stops for this one. Go ahead and see it.
We did our bit to help support the collective excitement by wearing the official Wicked colors to the show 🩷💚
I encountered a lot of naked despair, grief and anger at church today. I belong to a liberal Unitarian Universalist church outside of Boston. Many people were absolutely wrecked over the election results, including the minister.
We have many older members (I guess that includes me now at nearly 60) who have been fighting for all types of causes for decades, from the climate crisis to abortion. My church helped lead the marriage equality movement in Massachusetts. (We were the very first state in the country to legalize gay marriage in 2004–twenty years ago!) During the fight, our then minister refused to perform weddings in our beautiful historic church until same-sex marriage was legal. He really took a stand and it helped move things forward. Shortly after the law was passed, he married two longtime beloved church members—two women—in front of of the entire congregation. It was euphoric.
Anyway, I was doing OK at church, holding up pretty well, until the music director played John Lennon’s Imagine during the offertory. Oh man, hearing that just broke me (and a bunch of other people too). She was playing it beautifully on the grand piano (with no vocalist) but of course everyone in our congregation knows the words and was quietly singing along.
Having stayed in Thunderbird (one of the in-park historic lodges at The Grand Canyon) last year, I wanted to do the same in Yellowstone. These historic hotels and cabins are all booked through one agency (https://www.xanterra.com) and frequently fill-up a full year in advance.
These iconic hotels have amazing locations (inside America’s most famous national parks), but sometimes lack a few modern features—like air conditioning, WiFi, or even private bathrooms. (And there are definitely no pools or hot tubs at these hotels!) In my opinion, it’s worth it to give up a few modern luxuries to stay in the heart of the parks, surrounded by their wild beauty and animals.
I already mentioned our stay at the Mammoth Hot Springs, where we left our window open at night (there was no a/c, but fans were provided) and were awakened by the rather alarming sound of a male elk “bugling.” (Click here, to hear what that sounded like.)
This is the famous “map room” bar/lounge at Mammoth Hot Springs Hotel. Behind me was a grand piano, which was played by both guests and professionals during our stay. The large, intricate wooden map of the United States is crafted from 15 different types of native wood.
We also spent one night in the Granddaddy of all the American national park lodges: the Old Faithful Inn. Built in 1904, this historic landmark is known for its rustic, log-cabin architectural style and viewing porch, which faces Yellowstone’s most famous (and reliable) geyser.
Side view of Old Faithful Inn, with viewing porch on the right (above the entrance)
As one of the largest log structures in the world, it represents a significant achievement in American craftsmanship and the “parkitecture” style that blends buildings with their natural surroundings. It hosts millions of visitors from around the world each year. The lobby is jaw dropping and hard to capture in iPhone photos, but of course I tried:
The Old Faithful Inn features a towering stone fireplace in its lobby.
The clock face at the top uses red Roman numerals (so nobody under 35 has any idea how to read it, lol)
There are four levels above the lobby, but the top two were off limits. The “bird’s nest” is an elevated platform located near the ceiling. This rustic bandstand was once used for live musical performances. Imagine a band playing up there, while guests danced below.
They’ve kept the tradition of live musical performance alive at the Inn. I heard two different musicians playing for the guests. Here’s a snippet of a cellist/singer playing a GenX favorite: Sweet Dreams by the Eurythmics/Annie Lenox.
GenX in the house! (And yes, of course I sang along 😉)
A photo of the main dining room from an overlook on the first floor. The food was pretty good. I had Idaho trout, which was a lot like salmon.
Another grand stone structure (with a painting of Old Faithful) in the main dining room. Like the fireplace/clock in the lobby, it’s made of rhyolite—a volcanic stone found in the surrounding Yellowstone area.
Our room had a sink, but no bathroom (and only two plugs), but the shared bathroom was just a short walk down the hall. I got the last available room at the Inn and I booked 9 months in advance.
There’s a schedule in the lobby that lists when Old Faithful’s next eruption is expected, which is absolutely amazing when you think about it! The geyser erupts about 20 times per day and the schedule is accurate, plus or minus ten minutes. And this has been going on since explorers first discovered Old Faithful in the 1870s (and probably for thousands of years before that). Holy shit. Yellowstone is amazing!!!
The final eruption we witnessed before departing the Old Faithful Inn
I’m thankful that I got to have lobster (“lob-stah” – if you’re from around here) last night. I typically have one lobster dinner per summer, so I’m glad I got this one in before Labor Day—the unofficial end of summer.
Growing up in New England, I’ve eaten many, many lobsters. And yes, as a kid, I was extremely concerned about the seemingly cruel manner of death – by boiling. But once I had that delicious claw meat dipped in hot, melted butter, I got over it.
For those who have never had a lobster, the best ones are from the cold New England waters, especially Maine. (I made the mistake of ordering a lobster in Hawaii once. It was a totally different experience.) In my opinion, boiled lobster is best accompanied by a baked potato and either fresh corn or good coleslaw.
And if you’re a GenXer like me, you must recall a certain song, whenever lobster is served. (You know the one.)
Growing up in Massachusetts, I should have visited New York City before age 18, but I did not. For some reason, my parents never took us there, even though my mother’s parents were true Brooklynites—Dodgers fans before “dem bums” moved to LA. I remember my grandmother always pronounced certain words the Brooklyn way—“earl” for oil and “erster” for oyster. (My grandparents moved to Worcester, Massachusetts early in their marriage and never returned to Brooklyn.)
I first went to NYC on a bus from my college in Hartford in the mid eighties. We went for the day. I’ll never forget seeing those vertigo-inducing Manhattan skyscrapers for the first time. New York is so much bigger and taller than all the other American cities. Chicago, Miami, Philly, DC, LA, San Francisco, and of course Boston, are all special in their own ways, but New York is the greatest of them all. (And I say this as someone who grew up despising the New York Yankees.)
On that very first trip to NYC, I remember a shopkeeper asked me where I was from and I said “How do you know I’m not from New York?” He answered, “Because you’re not wearing black and you smiled and said thank you.” He guessed I was from Connecticut. Also, on that same trip, my friend Ann told me to quit gawking and saying things like “I can’t believe I’m in NEW YORK.”
I was determined to expose my kids to NYC before they were 18, so they wouldn’t seem so naive and Connecticutty when they visited.
A photo I took of my sister in NYC in 1987. (She was living there at the time and did not give Connecticut vibes like I did.)
My friend Andreada in Washington Square Park in 1988. That was a wild trip. NYC in the late 80s was a bit scary. I had to sit near a nasty perv on the bus down and got robbed of my leather coat while I was out at a bar. AIDS and drug addiction were casting a pall.My daughter in the Empire State Building, 2005
My son’s first trip to NYC, 2011
A mini-reunion with high school friends in Manhattan in 2011.
In 2018, I just HAD to see Hamilton on Broadway, so my friend Dina and I planned to go down for the day in late March. I thought we’d be safe from winter storms, so I bought tickets to a matinee. But then a freak spring snowstorm was forecast so we went down on the train the night before, so as to not miss the show. Well, the snowstorm was so bad that they cancelled our Amtrak home and we had to stay over a second night. It was quite a snowy adventure! We ended up running into a friend who took us to see a second Broadway show (Carousel starring Renée Fleming) for free. (She had extra tickets because her friends wouldn’t brave the snow.) We ate at the famous Sardi’s restaurant after the show.
The Hamilton marquis on Broadway, 2018My friend Dina outside the Bryant Park Grill in March 2018. Amtrak shut down for two days due to this little bit of snow! We took the bus home instead.
I went back to NYC for a conference the following month. There was no sign of snow then. I think that was my last trip to the City. I’m not sure when I’ll go back again, but I will.
Now, the first of December was covered with snow So was the turnpike from Stockbridge to Boston Though the Berkshires seemed dreamlike on account of that frostin’ With ten miles behind me and ten thousand more to go
That’s right. The Red Lion Inn is three years older than the United States. It was built the same year colonists were starting to get super annoyed with King George and dumped a bunch of tea in Boston Harbor.*
The Red Lion Inn in Stockbridge, Massachusetts is one of the oldest hotels in the USA. It started as a tavern in 1773.
We had dinner on the famous front porch of The Red Lion Inn last night and met some very interesting people, including two non-binary GenZ artists and a woman our age who is launching a solar farm business.
Interior view of the Red Lion tavern
Our room at The Red Lion Inn had to be locked and unlocked with an actual key 🔑
The Lost Lamb is a wonderful French patisserie in tiny, quaint downtown Stockbridge. I got both a chocolate croissant and a plain croissant with my café au lait.A pretty stained glass window in St. Paul’s Episcopal Church (est. 1834), which is directly across the street from Red Lion.
After a swim in the outdoor pool at Red Lion, we stopped for a delicious lunch at the Starving Artist Café in nearby Lee. We chatted with a woman from nearby Pittsfield, where I was born and spent the first three years of my life. Back then, everyone in Pittsfield (including my dad) worked for General Electric.
I don’t know why I hadn’t been back to this area in decades, but I will not wait so long to return. After lunch, we put on some James Taylor in the car and hopped on the turnpike back to Boston. The traffic gods were with me and I got home before 4pm.
A mural in downtown Lee
*The Boston Tea Party was a political protest by American colonists against British taxation policies. It occurred on December 16, 1773, in Boston, Massachusetts. Colonists, frustrated by the Tea Act—which allowed the British East India Company to sell tea directly to the colonies, effectively lowering the cost but undercutting colonial merchants—disguised themselves as Mohawk Indians and boarded British ships. They proceeded to dump 342 chests of tea into Boston Harbor. This act of defiance became a pivotal event leading up to the American Revolution.
Tanglewood Music Center, the summer home of the Boston Symphony Orchestra is an iconic location in New England. Over the years, I’ve heard many musically-inclined people describe it as their “happy place.” Located in the picturesque Berkshire Hills of western Massachusetts. Tanglewood hosts a variety of concerts, performances, and events featuring world-class musicians and artists. The grounds also include beautiful gardens, walking paths, and vast picnic areas. Purchasing “lawn seats” for a symphonic performance at Tanglewood and picnicking on the grounds has long been on my bucket list. (Tanglewood picnics have a legacy all their own.) Well, yesterday I checked this one off in absolutely spectacular weather.
The first half of the program included a modern piece by a living composer, Anna Clyne, who was there to introduce her work, as well as two gorgeous Mozart arias sung by an ethereal young soprano—Elena Villalón. The second half of the program was Mahler’s Symphony No. 4. The entire program was conducted by James Gaffigan—a young (cute) GenX American.
Besides the fact that we absolutely lucked out with one of the most stellar days of the summer (sunny, not too hot, low humidity), the sumptuous 4-course picnic lunch (provided by gourmet chefs from my church) made yesterday an over-the-top delight. My lifelong friend Gail and I didn’t have to bring a thing other than our lawn chairs. (The picnic lunch was something I won in a church auction last year.)
Holy wow! From the majestic setting, to the history of the hallowed grounds traversed by the greatest American musicians of the 20th century—from Leonard Bernstein and Aaron Copland to John Williams and Renée Fleming—I truly felt the Tanglewood magic.
The orchestra setting up on the stage in the Koussevitzky Music Shed at Tanglewood
Gail and I with a bust of Aaron Copland (1900-1990), the composer of Appalachian Spring
Huge trees provide shade for picnickers at Tanglewood
The fourth course of our picnic lunch: peach and raspberry parfaits
A name has been chosen, but not released. We know it’s two syllables and a bit “old fashioned” but it’s not a family name. Hmmmm….Hazel? (Nope) Alice? (Stop guessing)
A nurse asked…and was told! (she liked it). And it’s already on a baby hat!
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