Update 9-28-04

Hi,

Happy New Year, of course, to those who celebrate. That thought somehow got lost in the past two newsletters, as we tried to sort out political problems.

A combination hurricane/travel update, from Peggy Cooper Schwartz: Hope you're all well and enjoying autumn. My husband Les and I were vacationing in the Canadian Rockies from August 31st to September 9th. We were so fortunate to have missed Hurricane Frances. We live in Juno Beach, which is in northern Palm Beach County. Luckily our three-year-old townhouse sustained no damage. Juno Beach is a barrier island, so had we been home, we would have been evacuated the day before the hurricane hit. As it is, the whole area has lost a lot of gorgeous trees and beautiful landscaping. Nothing that can't be replaced -- or regrown -- but many people I know did have damage to their homes and businesses. And many were without water and electricity for several days. As for the Canadian Rockies -- they were magnificent. We flew to Calgary and rented a car. From there, we went to Lake Louise, Jasper, and Banff. We did lots of hiking, and the views were amazing! I highly recommend this trip.

Another travel tip, from Zelda White Nichols: My husband Dave and I are celebrating our 34th anniversary by going to the Central Coast of California, for some fine wining and dining. Most people don't know about this area, but I highly recommend it. It's like Napa 20 years ago, before it was "discovered." Great wineries, restaurants, and beaches, as well as Hearst Castle and the largest weekly farmers' market on the West coast -- in San Luis Obispo every Thursday. Just a fabulous place.

Strictly hurricane news, from Barbara Blitfield Pech: It's official -- everyone in Florida has lost track both of our minds and of the newest-named hurricane to wreak havoc on yet another weekend. It's bad enough that we've been hit as many times as we have, but, at the very least, ONE of 'em could arrive mid-week and grant us all a day off from office time rather than "our" time! I have gotten this week's round of calls from Bea Massa Brown, encouraging me to "hunker down" in Port Charlotte with her, but -- for now -- I'm hangin' home, off the roads and out of the evacuation traffic. Terri Donahue Calamari has brilliantly suggested that we hurricane survivors get together SOON for brunch. The idea is spectacular, and I hope any members of the Florida contingency will contact either Terri or me, to suggest dates and places. Either coast is convenient to drive to, as it takes about two hours to cross the state from most points. And I certainly wouldn't mind hosting a brunch at my home. As a matter of fact, I am making this an official invitation to "The Pech Palace" for the event. Meanwhile, best wishes to you all -- for a dry and windless weekend -- as well as extended wishes for a happy, healthy, and safe new year.

Separate entirely from news of disagreeable weather or enviable vacations, part of an on-going discussion Donald Faber and I have been having, by e-mail, about technology. From me to Donald: I've ditched newspapers. I'm dumping magazines. I'd happily read books online, or in the equivalent of an I-pod, but the technology isn't there yet. There's also the problem that other people still like printed material, so the business base isn't there, either. My friends keep wondering why I spend so much time in front of the computer, and when I tell them I'm reading that doesn't make sense to them. For one thing, they get a lot of their news from the radio during their long commutes, which I no longer have. For another, they feel we now have access to so much immediate news that they only want the outlines, not the details. So they see my sitting in front of the computer as a waste of time. Something else that's happening is a number of my friends are completely shutting out news, and, instead of even listening to music while they're stuck in their cars, they listen to books-on-CDs. I don't know if the practice of listening to books rather than reading them is presently confined to older people though. I've never checked the statistics.

Finally, some non-political, completely family-oriented fare from Our Man in Kearney, Jerry Bittman: This past Thursday, I experienced the greatest thrill a parent can have. I took my youngest daughter Abby to Denver to see her idol Norah Jones perform at Red Rocks. For those of you who have never seen or heard of Red Rocks, it is an amphitheater in the mountains outside of Denver. The theater is surrounded by huge rocks hundreds of feet high. Most musicians who have played there have said that it is their favorite venue -- the acoustics are just great.
Think of your all-time favorite singer or band. For instance, I know Bob Fiveson idolizes Barry Manilow, and Pete Rosen idolizes Wayne Newton. Well, multiply that, and that is how Abby feels about Norah Jones. Before the concert, in our hotel room, Abby made up a huge sign on foamboard. One side read, "Nebraska Loves Norah Jones," and the other side said, "You Are My 18th Birthday Present." Abby also sent, via a security guard, her ticket to the backstage dressing rooms. On the ticket, she wrote her name and said, "You Are My 18th Birthday Present." Eventually, the security guard returned with the ticket, now inscribed, "Happy 18th, Abby. Much Love, Norah Jones." Abby cried uncontrollably.
Since Abby was sitting center stage, row 2, the sign was easily visible. When the opening act -- a guy from Philly named Otis Lee -- saw the sign, he asked Abby to hold it up. When he saw the first side, he informed Abby that we were in Colorado, not Nebraska, and when he read the second side aloud, he thought the message about her
18th birthday present was for him. He looked at Abby -- who is gorgeous; she has her mom's looks -- and said he wished he were her birthday present. I told the guy sitting next to me that if Amos kept that up, there might be a fight.
When Norah Jones saw the sign, she winked and smiled at Abby. Later on in the show, she asked for the girl up front with the sign to please stand up. When Norah Jones saw the message about her 18th birthday present, she flashed back to the ticket and said, "You must be Abby. Happy 18th, Abby."
To have your child say, "Dad, this is the greatest night of my life, and I don't think it could ever be topped," made it the greatest day of my life.

Rich