Marcus' World

Happy Anniversary!

On February 27, 2001 Helen and I were married in Chicago.  February 27 is the most special day of our year.  On that date in 1999 we began dating, at a dorm formal in Comiskey Park.  On February 27, 2000 I proposed, and fortunately Helen decided to accept. And one year later we began our lives happily ever after.

In Chicago we celebrated this date at a wonderful fondue place, Geja's Cafe.  In Washington we ate at Palena Restaurant the first year, and had tea at the Ritz and dinner at the Melting Pot the second time around.

Now we're in New York City, where the Zagat restaurant guide has become our blue state Bible.  It helped us discover the top 50 restaurant Blue Hill, which delights in "celebrating the produce of the Hudson Valley."  So tonight we trundled down to Washington Square Park for an anniversary feast.

We left very happy guests, because Blue Hill featured delicious food, attentive service and delightful ambiance.  We both ordered the tasting menu, which allowed us to sample the seafood, lamb, and dessert.  The chef also sent out two small appetizers, including a soup that we drank from a shot glass.

Although it is enjoyable to dine in style, this luxury is only the icing on the cake of a very happy marriage.  Please click here if you are interested in a more detailed time line of our relationship, or would like to read the wedding vows that Helen and I wrote together.

The Gates are Coming Down

Almost as soon as they arrived, the Gates of Central Park are coming down.  This is the final weekend to see them, as everything will be dismantled on February 27.

From an artistic point of view, the Gates are more of a gimmick than a breakthrough.  But from a "community happening" point of view, they have been wonderful.  Normally people treat Central Park as their solitary preserve, and retreat into books or IPods.  But the Gates have stimulated the friendlier side of human nature.  That's a gift at any time, and especially in the middle of winter.

Pictures from Darfur

Shortly after posting my thoroughly absurd message about the song "Get Closer," I saw that Nick Kristof had published heartbreaking pictures from Darfur, Sudan in today's New York Times.  Genocide or no genocide, what is happening there is an abomination.

This made me realize yet again just how fortunate I am, because I  have the time to be playful.  And it caused me to resolve to do more to improve the situation in Darfur, no matter how puny my efforts might seem.

[Note: You need a free Times log-in and password to see the article.]

Musical Criticism

For lunch today I purchased a delicious wrap.  While I waited for it, the Seals and Croft song "Get Closer" played in the background.

Because the song is at least 20 years old, I knew every word.   Although I fall ever more behind with today's music, I'm your man for '70s pop.

I was humming along, not really paying attention to how the peppy background music contradicts the mood of some pretty dark lyrics.   This man has been hurt, ladies and gentlemen, but from the sound of it you'd think he just got a raise.

Suddenly, for the last chorus, the music grows more militant and the pain of the song becomes clear.   It's harder to hum from this point forward.

Return to Washington DC

Helen and I spent President's Day weekend back in Washington, which gave us a chance to see some friends, my cousin Renita and her baby Xander.   We were going to stay with Renita and Xander, but he became very sick and we didn't want to impose.  Fortunately we were able to find alternate lodging right away, with Uri and Anna.

This turned out to make for an interesting weekend.  Because Renita and Xander live close to where we used to live, we know their neighborhood well.  But Uri and Anna live in Adams Morgan, which we'd visited a lot but never lived in.  They also live much closer to the National Zoo than we did.  So it was enjoyable to walk through and discover somewhat unfamiliar surroundings.

Uri and Anna were wonderful hosts, who made breakfast and took us sightseeing to Great Falls.  We also saw Tammy, Bruce, and Veronika, and if things had worked out better we would have seen Heather too.  And we finally did get to see Renita and Xander on our last night in town.  All in all, a great visit that induced some wistfulness.

Helen and I are committed to living in many cities, and are enjoying our new lives in New York City.  But all of this uprooting means that it's harder to make friends.  We lived in Washington for two years, and our network didn't really fall into place until the last six or eight months.  And then we were gone.  Now we're making more friends in New York, but this always takes time.

There's no point to this posting, alas, except for the rather tired observation that life is a series of trade offs.  In our case, it's between exploring the wide world and making deep connections to a place that you call home. 

Small Comforts

It's a truism of New York life that the big bad city is really a collection of small neighborhoods.   One effect of this--which is charming to me and probably not even noticed by native New Yorkers--is that the shopkeepers eventually know you.  This isn't just in the neighborhood where you live, but also where you work.

Usually once a week I'll leave the library to buy a panini from a place across the street, and the last several times the cashier has asked me with extra familiarity, "How are you doing?"  A few doors down is another sandwich place.  I used to go all the time and then suddenly went on a hiatus for several weeks.  When I came back, the cashier commented that it had been a long time since I'd been there.

I generally frequent the same newsstand every morning, although I suppose the Times would rather have me be a paid subscriber.  Again, familiarity is in the air, although this time it's of a gruff male variety.   Oh well;  it still feels good.

Journalists on Trial

"Why worry him until you have to? I'm teaching him about respect for the law and the rule of law, and it's hard to explain why Daddy finds himself in a legal predicament."--Matthew Cooper of Time Magazine, speaking about his six year old son

"For all the mistakes that we journalists make at times, try running a functioning democracy without us."--Judith Miller of the New York Times

With a judicial ruling yesterday that they have no right to shield their sources in the Valerie Plame case, Judith Miller and Matthew Cooper edged closer to serving jail time.  Both they and their employers have promised appeals, on the grounds that a journalist's promise of confidentiality is sacrosanct.

In the abstract I see such situations as a difficult clash of two important goods: the government's right to information vs. the journalist's right to report.  But this real-world case causes me to stand with the journalists.  Politics is at work; the conservative journalist who actually leaked Ms. Plame's name, Robert Novak, is not under threat.  Instead an over-reaching government is focusing on reporters from less friendly precincts.   

This serves as a reminder of why journalists serve as a check on government in the first place, and why they must have the ability to protect their sources.

The Gates of Central Park

It's been an exciting period for public art in New York City.   Last weekend Helen and I enjoyed the sculptures of Tom Otterness lined up along Broadway.  Yesterday we were among the throng on hand for the unveiling of Christo and Jeanne-Claude's Gates of Central Park.  Until February 27, 7,500 saffron sheets will line 23 miles of pathways through the park.  It will cost a total of $20 million, completely paid for by Christo and Jeanne-Claude.

This project has been 26 years in the making, and was conceived at a time when the park was much more decrepit than it is now.  So some people are grousing that the Gates attempt to improve what is already perfect.  Maybe so, but we should remember that this is the artist's gift to their beloved city.  And although the artistic merits of the project are up for debate, the sense of community it has inspired is not.

Once again, that shutterbug Helen took outstanding photos of our journey.  One is below, and you are welcome to check out the entire album.

Definition of Liberalism

Until tomorrow, February 11, the American Prospect is running a contest in which readers can define what liberals stand for.  Everyone must submit a single sentence, of no more than 30 words.

Here's my attempt: Liberals believe in individual freedom, regard for our neighbors, economic opportunity for all, and a government that acts without shame to enhance the lives of its citizens.

I'm not hopeful about winning the contest, but you never know.  In the meantime, the Principles Project offers another way to frame today's progressive agenda.

The New Yorker at 80

My favorite magazine used to be Harper's.  Although I  still subscribe, I don't read as much of it these days.   The New Yorker has supplanted Harper's in my affections, although at first I was deeply resitstant to this rag filled with cartoons.  I'm very grateful to my college friend John Evans for exposing me to the light.  Yes, there are cartoons, but there is also a tremendous amount of fine writing.

The New Yorker turns 80 this month, and has just published an enormous 258-page anniversary issue.  Although I would be fine if medical journals went completely electronic, I still value print for my leisure reading.  Whatever 258 pages equals in bytes, it far exceeds these bytes in heft.

Tonight I attended a lecture by David Remnick, the New Yorker's fifth editor.   He stood up for Seymore Hersh against the slanders of the Pentagon.  He explained why the magazine chose to endorse John Kerry in 2004.   He batted off insinuations that the magazine had become too commercial, saying it had always been that way.   And he was charmingly modest about his lack of editorial experience prior to taking this position. 

All in all, a fine evening.  The audience was generous, and it felt like we were in the "New Yorker Club."  I couldn't help but realize that nobody I grew up with would understand the pleasure in this event.  But I don't need to justify myself, so I shouldn't have cared about this.  Instead I should resume fantasies of being published in the New Yorker!