Ann Carol Goldberg

1922, My father, Herman Rudin was 16 years old, a fine violinist already and living in Rochester, NY. His Violin teacher, Mr Herman Surasky, encouraged my dad (his nickname was Hy) to audition for the newly formed Civic Music Association Orchestra, the forerunner to the now great Rochester Philharmonic Orchestra. He was readily accepted and hired, playing on the stage of the Eastman Theatre, built on the behest of George Eastman of Kodak fame. Eventually, Hy was asked to play in the Viola section as there were too many violins, (not an uncommon problem). He did so and in 1928 married my mother, Sophie Caplan from Hamilton, Ontario, Canada. My husband Paul has found the Ancestry document recording their move to Rochester. They had been courting after meeting at a party in Rochester. My brother, Arthur (may he rest in peace) was born in 1929 and played the cello then the bass violin-jazz. I was born in 1942 and as a youngster, would hang on the balcony above the first floor piano space and eagerly listen to their practice sessions. My dad played with the RPO until 1977 when he passed away at age 71. His compositions were played by the RPO on many occasions. There are so many stories to tell as an “orchestra brat” and later, Paul and I as advocates for better pay and extended seasons. I remain very proud of my father (he became head librarian and Personnel manager as well at later dates. My beautiful mother tolerated the difficult schedule of an orchestra member and remained very proud of him while making a career for herself as a Pediatric nurse. I will stop here and attach the file for Herman Rudin held at the Sibley Music Library in Rochester, Peter Coppen Chairman. Anyone wishing to take on the research and documentation, students, scholars can gain access through Mr. Coppen and I hope you enjoy his journey below.

Herman-Rudin-Collection

National Poetry Month has a long history. My first year receiving daily POEMS began in April, 2010, savoring a month-long dose of daily poems and sources from Knopf Publishers; see below to sign up.

I have eagerly awaited the Month of April since that year for the wonderful poems that I would receive and could not have found on my own. I have developed a string of favorite poets and poetry and various styles of poetry. I couldn’t begin to share them all, that would necessitate a course over months/years time and I am not qualified enough to do that. Therefore, if you do love Poetry and want to be part of this venture, read on. My research results;

Who started it? “It was inspired by Black History Month and Women’s History Month. In April, 1996 by the Academy of American Poets marking April as National Poetry Month to turn the attention of the world towards the art of poetry.”

Furthermore, “National Poetry Month is a registered trademark of the Academy of American Poets. Why was April chosen for National Poetry Month?  In coordination with poets, booksellers, librarians, and teachers, the Academy of American Poets chose a month when poetry could be celebrated with the highest level of participation.”

I refer you to search for my oldest entry in 2010, and 2 recent sources; (W. S. Piero and Ruth Padel-“the Great, Great, Great Granddaughter of Charles Darwin.” and  Patrick Phillips Juilate Civitas.) for which pizza will never be the same. Sign up, read. savor and enjoy the rhymes and reason. 

To sign up go to https://knopfdoubleday.com/knopf-poetry-signup/

The book is entitled;  The Secret Life Of Sunflowers: A gripping, inspiring novel based on the true story of Johanna Bonger, Vincent Van Gogh’s sister in law. 

I read the Kindle ebook  version as I love to poke words and search items in the text for further insight into so many topics. Here is a brief synopsis quoted from the Amazon Book search;

“When Hollywood auctioneer Emsley Wilson finds her famous grandmother’s diary while cleaning out her New York brownstone, the pages are full of surprises. The first surprise is, the diary isn’t her grandmother’s. It belongs to Johanna Bonger, Vincent van Gogh’s sister-in-law.  Johanna inherited Vincent van Gogh’s paintings. They were all she had, and they weren’t worth anything. She was a 28 year old widow with a baby in the 1800s, without any means of supporting herself, living in Paris where she barely spoke the language. Yet she managed to introduce Vincent’s legacy to the world.  The inspiration couldn’t come at a better time for Emsley. With her business failing, an unexpected love turning up in her life, and family secrets unraveling, can she find answers in the past?”

You will meet many characters in the Van Gogh family and other picturesque characters. It was hard to put the book down. 

I experienced the 2022 traveling Van Gogh wall high experience shown in over 40 U.S. Cities, housed in large video adapted warehouses, in immersive, surround video/sound extravaganzas?  This project enlightened many generations beyond his years and surrounded you with this famous artist’s work, innovative brush stroke style and brings glory to Johanna and her quest to show the work to the world. 

The story of Vincent Van Gogh as we all learned in art history courses present VG as highly reclusive, lacking in self confidence, tending toward frequent bouts of insanity and of course, learning that in a rage, he cut off of his ear and of his eventual suicide. It is all quite a dramatic story visualized through the now famous painting of his bedroom and other famous and innovative works of art. His road to fame was not easy and not anything this shy and timid artist would have pursued. In this novelized tale, we meet many family members and other characters that add to this visually rich book.  Author Marta Molar is a dedicated biographer, obsessed (20 years or more) in researching and telling the story of his sister-in-law Johanna. in the early 1890’s and her struggle to alert the art world of this great body of work. The chapters in the book are intertwined with Emsley, woman in the 1990’s finding a “green Diary” of her recording Jo’s pursuit to the end. 

I am so glad to be back to posting blogs after a long hiatus and a long history of postings. I started messages in a Minute posting on Mondays (mostly) because I was born on a Monday, a Monday child is obsessive. Please to to cgstudio.net to read the blog and I enjoy having feedback about books or any other topic that I may share. 

Today is my 80th birthday and I am so glad to be entering the new decade. I feel great and grateful to all who sent me good wishes. I intend to celebrate every day. We are on our way west and camped for 3 nights in the Tom Sawyer RV park in Arkansas, on the western bank of the beautiful Mississippi River. We have been here many times when the river is full and bold and flowing. carrying the barges and riverboats along the banks of this romantic, thrilling, literary Jewel.

There are tough stories here as well going back for millennium of struggle, love, hatred and lore. Mark Twain of course, brought it alive in all of his adventures. The river is hailed in song-Ole’ Man River and in film, books as mentioned, biographies, Autobiographies. documentaries and our dreams. This visit is TOUGH, hard. The river that used to swell its banks and flood this campground is now 1/2  of it usual size.

The water is scarce, the other side of the river is barren, and filled with dry and hard river bottom now exposed to the sun. The news is filled with stories of small barges carrying limited cargo and restricting jobs and income in these very hard times. I have included photos with the contrast blatantly visible. 

For my birthday we will drive into Memphis for some fun and lovely dinner for Paul and my birthday celebrations. How lucky we are, feeling well and filled with energy. We have even booked a December cruise on a big ship to Mexico. For those that know me, I fear getting seasick but it is time to try a modern ship (as opposed to the Queen Mary (original crossing from France to NYC and our 1964 honeymoon.)

What’s on my Mind?;

Globally, the world is in disaster mode, personally, life is good if one adopts a positive attitude. We are lucky, we are relatively healthy and now on the road westward in our motor home. We Departed Rochester, N Y in mid October with a stop at our son and daughter in law’s Virginia farm, including visits with our grandson Alex a student at UVA. Our kids are empty nesters and happy that at least Alex is still nearby for another year. After many delicious meals and a visit with their two beautiful horses, we departed for Asheville, NC- long a favorite destination for the art and beautiful landscapes. We visited long time friends (a young couple) and their new apartment. The view from their deck is glorious and it is peak leaf season.

After wonderful art gallery adventures and Leigh’s delicious and appealing Spanish based dinner on a pasta called Feola, (spelled many ways) we drove westward to Red Bay, AL. Red Bay is a tree not a body of water, for minor work on our Tiffin Coach. About 30 seconds after our arrival at the office  to register, another coach followed us to wait in line carrying a delightful couple that we met last year, same time, same place and made a fast friendship. What a small world.

My 80^th birthday is coming up on Nov 2^nd and I have anticipating entering the next decade with hope and glee in my heart and mind. Celebration for my birthday may be in the middle of nowhere, but we had hoped to take a hike into nearby Dismal Canyon, a dip down into a rocky walled, moss covered “underworld” where we expect Hobbit characters to jump out and say Happy Halloween. However, it has been raining hard in Red Bay, which we “caused” by daring to have the car washed, silly us. On Tuesday, we continue our journey westward ending up in Jojoba Hills RV Park, our SoCal winter home, anticipating reunions with friends, fulfilling our committee responsibilities and finding new horizons. So today will be devoted to the great catchup on all those to do items and to read or zoom. Paul and I danced on the rig last night to the The Late Show band with Steven Colbert, featuring Joe Walsh and company.  It was fast and furious hard rock, so we rocked loose our souls. 

Indeed how lucky we are. If you haven’t already, VOTE with your heart.

Scenario; you are preparing to leave the house and do the check list—what do I need with me;

Cell phone? Keys or key fobs?  Wallet with all ID’s? credit cards, computer, iPod, tablet, kindle, GPS or destination info to input thereof, proof of Covid test or vaccinations, coat, hat, umbrella, raincoat, shopping list, shopping tote bags. And that list is just for us seniors.

You work, run a business (not remotely), go to school, are going jogging or to the gym and need your pedometer and water bottle, bird watching and need your binoculars or camera, you need airline, train or bus tickets to get to your destination, (hopefully they are on your phone if you remembered it), your brief case or luggage, going to socialize and need the house gift you purchased, or a bottle of wine or other beverage and on and on.

Paul and I (usually) quiz each other when one or the other is departing or both of us are on our way.

BUT, sometimes we forget that part or even if quizzed, still leave something behind.

Yesterday, we departed to go to a furniture shop to order new bar height stools for our kitchen counter. All of a sudden, Paul exited the expressway 2 exits early and did a U turn, declaring, “I don’t have my phone!(@%&# *)”. He was really very nice and kept his cool, it was only time and being retired, it did not matter. Aren’t we all lost souls with out our phones? Forget a shopping list, we can improvise, a raincoat, it is only water, the destination address; go hunt on the GPS, Tickets, they should be on your phone…! and so on.

As we drove toward the exit ramp, someone in a small car zipped ahead of us, setting off the radar warning in our Jeep but missed us by an inch or two. We did a U turn to reverse direction, and he did the same ahead of us. “Hmmm we said, I bet he or she forgot something as well. Then, another car in the left lane surged ahead and passed a couple of cars in a hurry. We bet that he forgot his phone, must be the case. Home we went only loosing about 10 minutes, Then off to the shop entering with the remembered print out for the stools we chose last fall to be deferred to this time, our return to the apartment. The item was discontinued-not a surprised, and nothing else met our specs. Off to the other store in the Armory shopping plaza, (Rochester, NY) and they had just the thing we had hoped for at the breakfast bar.

Happy campers, we went off to do our other errands accessing the shopping list on our phones and other information we needed to finish our errands and return to the apartment. we are pretty much finished our move back from the motorhome but are packing to leave tomorrow for a family event in Boston. How lucky we are to be seeing a large part of Paul’s side of the family and some of our kids and grandkids. Lucky indeed. 

My desire to blog has suffered greatly during this pandemic, I have tried to write so many times and it all sounded trite, the same as the editorial writers and interviewees on zoom were saying; they could not get their thoughts together either. Perhaps more of that in another blog. We are headed east to Rochester, our home town and our wonderful downtown apartment after spending close to 6 months on our California, Jojoba Hills SKP RV resort in Aguanga, CA. It is a tiny town nestled in the high desert Palomar mountain range. What a wonderful few months it was, delving into the life in a volunteer, caring and loving community. We stopped for 5 days to visit our son, daughter in law and two wonderful grandsons on their beautiful farm called Cheval Noir,- (yes, they have 2 beautiful black horses) from a hardy old breed dating back to the 1500’s. But, heading to Rochester for us is another joy. We will see our grandson, a student at the U of R,  friends from decades ago and some more recent acquaintances, catch up with the rich cultural scene and perhaps do some traveling after our trip to Boston this coming weekend for a long awaited  Bat Mitzvah. Paul has shared his blog with details of our trip from the RV POV, cost of fuel, and other logistics. We have had no problem finding overnight campsites and have has some good adventures in that realm. We still enjoy our nomadic life and seeing the beauty of this country and the people we meet. Be well all. Some photos to share; Dan’s tractor, Malena’s horse Tivoli, and the spring garden.

In listening to the latest Podcast from a favorite site called Unorthodox found at Tabletmag.com  (nothing to do with the TV series but well worth checking out.)  The podcast introduces wonderful people from every belief system and walk through life).  In this week’s Podcast, the podcasters turned to their intern and with her Christian background recorded her story. She “confessed” that she indeed believed in Santa until age 11. Her friends would tease her, her parents giggle at her, but she remained steadfast and finally let go as she got older and perhaps wiser; but admitting the fact has been very hard for her and questioning still lingers in her head. 

I took time to think about my own beliefs, real or false and my acceptance of the realities.

I believed as a very young child, that babies were indeed delivered by the proverbial stork, that my mom also told me were found in a planter. She also told me that they came from love. I latched onto this answer and the magic that it offered. I soon learned about the real world with lots of help from friends and some from my parents. They were reticent and I was very naïve. 

Trekking west and following a favorite route as we do not believe in taking a major expressway like the 10 across the Southwest or anywhere.  Our route of choice is the 90, down in the bottom Texas, accessing the road from San Antonio, where we spent an evening on the Riverwalk and captured one of the many tour boats. 

The joys of RVing are the surprises and the ability to make spur of the moment changes in our route. We drove from San Antonio toward Sanderson, planning to stop overnight in a rest stop (tried and true many years ago.) As we pulled into the stop, another coach that we had played do-si- do with on the road, came in entering from the other entrance), so our doors faced each other. We met between coaches and talked and talked with Bob and his gorgeous Cockatoo, appropriately named Glacier whose one word is Hello!!  What a great time we had. We exchanged stories then entered our coaches for diner.

The next day we continued west driving though our favorite towns; Alpine, Marfa and Valentine awaiting our arrival at the skid marks on the road. Why Skid marks you may ask? because in the middle of nowhere there is a Prada Store, yes a Prada store with vintage shoes and purses displayed in their glory. As the sign explains this is an art installation and we have enjoyed it for all of the years of its existence.  If one is not forewarned, the skid marks are self explanatory. Our trip west is as usual jam packed full and delightful, I just wanted to share a slice of life on the road.