“Doctor Turvy was an ethereal citizen of an ethereal world. In the beginning, he existed only for Blix, but long before the end, he existed for everybody who worked with Blix or knew him well. Although Doctor Turvy’s prescriptions indicated that he put his trust in a wine list rather than a pharmacopoeia, he had two qualities of special excellence in a physician; his diagnosis was always arrived at in a split second – and he held the complete confidence of his patient.”
Beryl Markham
Rx: A Curious Prescription
Astronauts have always known that a "cosmic re-entry" can be tricky business.
I found out on the 12th Day of Christmas.
Had I flown into Atlanta that day, I might have crashed and burned. But I didn't. I arrived back in the "U" "S" of "A" through the one city in this world that has reminded me, time and time again and when I find that my march coincides with the beat of a melancholy drum, of a thing that Robert Frost once noted (and Gogo PR Girl recently reminded me of):
(In fact, if anything ever goes so terribly wrong that the people I love can't find me entirely, let me go ahead and suggest that they'll do themselves a favor to search, first and foremost, the skate circle in Central Park. It's my Tiffany's.)
That night, life went on with a Confederate: Amber Francis. Who joined me for an Experimental Cocktail at 191 Chrystie Street.
I had the Curious Prescription.
Ingredients: Pueblo Viejo Reposado, Purkhart Pear Williams Eau-de-Vie, La Cigarrera Manzanilla Sherry, Homemade Salted Mezcal Caramel Syrup, Lime Juice & Bittermen Habanero Bitters.
Directions? Do not try this at home.
Astronauts have always known that a "cosmic re-entry" can be tricky business.
I found out on the 12th Day of Christmas.
Had I flown into Atlanta that day, I might have crashed and burned. But I didn't. I arrived back in the "U" "S" of "A" through the one city in this world that has reminded me, time and time again and when I find that my march coincides with the beat of a melancholy drum, of a thing that Robert Frost once noted (and Gogo PR Girl recently reminded me of):
"In 3 words I can sum up everything I've learned about life. It goes on."
(In fact, if anything ever goes so terribly wrong that the people I love can't find me entirely, let me go ahead and suggest that they'll do themselves a favor to search, first and foremost, the skate circle in Central Park. It's my Tiffany's.)
That night, life went on with a Confederate: Amber Francis. Who joined me for an Experimental Cocktail at 191 Chrystie Street.
I had the Curious Prescription.
Ingredients: Pueblo Viejo Reposado, Purkhart Pear Williams Eau-de-Vie, La Cigarrera Manzanilla Sherry, Homemade Salted Mezcal Caramel Syrup, Lime Juice & Bittermen Habanero Bitters.
Directions? Do not try this at home.
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Amuse-Bouche!
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Read: City Britches, A Southern Girl's New York Minutes: a series of posts I composed at the request of an Editor at Garden & Gun. I followed up for a year and never did find out what became of their intentions to use them, but I'd like to share them with all of you. So I'll be posting them in the following week.
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Discuss: I kept some time, on my layover, for an early morning walk in Lower Manhattan. And one thought haunted me more than most: "You know, not everyone we lost that day . . . died. Some of them are still out there. Still lost." And (bear with me because this will be difficult to describe) it was less like a thought from my own mind and more - it was as if someone were speaking to me. As if they were showing me that they could identify with something I already knew.
I'd like to open a dialogue about what I can do to help survivors that might have slipped through the cracks. So if you know of an organization that's doing great work, please share them with me. Or if you know someone who needs help, I would like to explore earmarking a portion of the "Light A Candle" fund for their benefit.
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