A Perfect Day Redux

Not sure what Lou Reed's constituted, but this will definitely do for me -- an early summer day with temps in the low 80s, some humidity but not oppressive, large crowds in Central Park, pursuing the abiding pleasures of the park that New Yorkers have enjoyed now for a century and a half, giving an excellent tour to a private group, babysitting the newest and joyfully interactive grandchild for four hours, Skypeing with him DD in California so she could see how he's changed in the near month she has been gone, walking through Riverside Park to the outdoor seasonal bar/restaurant across from the 106th Street dog run, having a couple margaritas in the company of four of my favorite people, younger daughter, son and his domestic partner, and the grandson, and then walking back to the apartment in a warm and soft summer night. A night to end a day in which both the Yankees and the Giants won (the Giants scoring the only run in their game on a 7th inning balk for heaven's sake. They are beginning to be like the joke I heard attributed to Don Drysdale in the 60s. Told Sandy Koufax had pitched a shutout, Big (now gone) Don replied, "Did he win?"), wins that enabled each to move back into first place in their divisions as the baseball season nears the halfway point. And now to bed with my new Kindle and Netherland. Fine.

All's Well That Ends Well, Except It Isn't

Yesterday was Manhattan Borough day for All's Well That Ends Well at Shakespeare in the Park. A great alternative to standing in line in the Park for hours -- if you live in the designated Borough of the Day, you just go to the stated location, pick up vouchers and, by no later than half an hour before curtain, convert each voucher into a ticket at the box office. No line at all at the Museo del Barrio to pick up the vouchers in yesterday's recurring showers and I got four, which at 7:15 we exchanged for four tickets, getting one more in the bargain since the weather (or perhaps buzz about the production) meant not all tickets had been distributed.

And things went downhill from there. All's Well, I read, is considered one of Shakespeare's "problem plays," neither a comedy nor a tragedy. This is hooey; no one dies bloodily on stage. The play is a comedy, pure and simple. (Whether it is a good comedy, even in the best of productions, is of course another question.) Not only does nobody die, but also the petulant, spoilt young brave and horny prince (Bertram) gets his comeuppance, which -- it turns out -- is the opportunity to be happy for the rest of his life, if only he'd show a little wisdom as he ages, with the woman who has always loved him (Helena). This outcome is achieved after ridiculous plot twists and coincidences, as in half a dozen or so other of Shakespeare's plays. The problem with the Shakespeare in the Park take on All's is that none of this is played for comedy by any of the characters, save for Parolles, Bertram's buffoonish aide de camp. But his antics and cowardice are amped up to the nth power (presumably a directorial decision), making him so overdone that he quickly ceases to be either funny or a good character foil to Bertram. Helena is good (after a slow start); so is her deceptive stand-in Diana and the Countess. Still, beyond them, this was an unsatisfying evening in the Park, but -- at least -- only a few spare drops of rain fell on us.

Missed the Memo...Again

Suddenly, at least it seems suddenly, the Upper West Side and our area here in Morningside Heights are awash in dogs who are leashed with a harness-like apparatus across their chests, rather than, as has served now for generations, around the neck. Proving either that it is impossible to be too trendy on the UWS or that -- as my daughter explained to me -- some vets claim a dog's neck gets strained with a neck leash. Six months ago, it seemed that neck leashes were fine, but with the coming of spring and the daffodils and crocuses of March, so too did the body leash explode into sight. It's as if all dog owners got a memo advocating the new way of walking. Today I actually developed a bit of sympathy for the new when my poor little doggie was feeling under the weather and wanted to stop at every patch of sidewalk where grass was pushing up through the cracks and to nibble on the grass. I lost patience after a while and gave him a series of yank/tugs to move him along. At that point I just thought he was a canine malingerer but when he left his food untouched once we got back home, I realized. So, Sam, if I strained your neck a little bit, I'm sorry, but no, you are not getting a doggie harness. It's one unreceived memo I am mentally tearing up.