A Prairie Home Companion in Santa Fe

Santa Fe, New Mexico/Los Angeles, CA

When I read the announcement that Garrison Keillor was bringing a 50th anniversary performance of A Prairie Home Companion to Santa Fe Opera, I jumped at the tickets. I suppose it is a credit to my eclecticism that I wanted to be in the audience for APHC as well as in the audience for The Who's Song is Over tour date at The Hollywood Bowl. Both this month.

I would say it was 75% interest in APHC as it was my third time seeing it live. And since the mid-eighties I had been listening to the shows on Saturday evenings at 6:00 PM on KPCC out of Pasadena until Garrison Keillor parted company, so to speak, with NPR. To paraphrase George Harrison in A Hard Day's Night: A Prairie Home Companion has loomed large in my legend. It was such a constant through my life for so many decades. I don't think Joel and I would have attended Paul Simon's Farewell Tour concert at The Hollywood Bowl, had my interest in him not been renewed by hearing him as a guest on APHC. And that turned out to be one of the best concerts I have ever attended (even topping The Beatles in 1964!).

The other 25% was about the town and venue. I have long been interested in the Santa Fe Opera venue after having heard so much about it. It has been described as magical. And, returning to Santa Fe for the first time in over twenty-five years would be interesting. The last time I was there was for a long-ago birthday. And it was so cold, I mean, cold, that I declared I would never spend another birthday anywhere but Hawaii. The following year, at the late, great Kona Village Resort, I met Sandra, the patron saint of my blog and life. We went to KVR every October, meeting Sandra and John there and celebrating my following ten birthdays until the resort was taken out by the 2011 tsunami after the massive earthquake in Japan.

We flew to Albuquerque on Friday. Easy flight; nightmare rental car experience (long line, one agent). Finally, we got on the road to Santa Fe, arriving at the condo we had rented in the late afternoon. You can never exactly tell from the photos, so I was overjoyed to find the condo was so stellar! Security building with underground parking and walking distance from the Plaza. And it was gorgeous. We settled in and then headed over to the hotel La Fonda where we ordered beers, chips and guacamole. We hadn't had much breakfast nor any lunch, so this was too light of a repast. And there wasn't any draft beer on the menu. But, there was a terrific view of the city from the rooftop bar, so we muddled through. That is until the rain started. Unlike Southern California, rain comes in fast and turns hard quickly. We moved to a covered area and ended up having an interesting and rewarding conversation with a local couple, who recommended several restaurants in town. Shortly after, the bar management  announced they were closing, as a thunderstorm was six minutes away. Eventually, the rain lightened up, somewhat, so we made an umbrella-less run for the car.

Still hungry, we showered and headed out to dinner. We happened to park near Cafe Pasquale, which I remembered from my previous trip. We put our name in and headed across the street to a hotel bar. I find that travel days are often stressful, so the scotch I had at the bar aided my coping mechanism. One complaint: A chilled glass? Joel had a rare second beer and soon we were back at Cafe Pasquale. I remembered from that previous trip having breakfast and lunch there. And I also remember an inability to get black tea. It was all herbal. Never a good sign. Joel looked at the menu and declared that he wasn't interested in New Mexican cuisine. Like I needed to know this. He shuns anything that is described as cuisine, but especially Mexican, new or old, as he abhors the audacity of those who will fuck with the food of his forebears. Let's just order appetizers and see how it goes, I suggested. I thought the sopes were good, but he did not. We each ate half of one Oaxacan tamales and left the other one which was, in a word, odd. We are used to Oaxacan food from the festivals we have attended, as well as from a Oaxacan restaurant in LA. This was not that. We bailed.

By bedtime, we had each had two beers/whiskey, some crappy store-bought chips and guacamole at La Fonda, a couple of sopes and half a tamale. But we were exhausted, so we went to bed. The following morning we were up early from both hunger and the one-hour time change, so I ushered him to a local diner, Tia Sophia, for an early breakfast. Joel ordered huevos rancheros, Christmas style (red and green chile sauces) and was thoroughly happy. That day we drove out to Los Alamos and went to the museum there which is predominantly about the Manhattan Project. On the way back we stopped at Tusuque, and at the market restaurant, Joel happily ate pozole. All was right with the world.

We ate at the bar of one of the restaurants the couple at La Fonda had recommended and had our first sopapillas of the trip. If you have been following along here, you will know that one of my favorite things on this planet is dough thrown into hot fat. I am not a doughnut eater, however. But once a year, near New Year's, we eat beignets at The Farmers Market, and every Memorial Day I indulge in loukoumades at the annual Greek Festival. Sopapillas fit right into my gleeful appreciation of fried dough.

The following day, after blue corn and piñon pancakes, we poked around the shops on the Plaza and went leisurely through the New Mexico History Museum. We ate an early dinner at the other restaurant that the couple had recommended, which had even better sopapillas, and headed out to Santa Fe Opera. First impression: It is stunning. Unlike The Hollywood Bowl, it is covered, yet open around all sides. Jumping on those tickets got us orchestra seats in the fifth row. Pretty soon Garrison Keillor strolled onto stage singing Hello Love. Most everyone there (except Joel) felt the nostalgia for that song and the show to follow. Fortunately, Joel loved it. I had feared Oaxacan tamale, the stage version. But no, it turned out to be one of those stellar nights. A great show. 65* with a full moon. Magical, indeed.

The following day we flew home from Albuquerque. Trip completed. But resonance remains. I always come home from trips with a sense of renewed energy and direction. It is the rare trip when I come home thinking I want to live in the place I have just left. But I loved Santa Fe. Much more than on that first frigid trip. There was no entitled driving behavior. Everyone drove courteously. People were friendly, polite, and replied you're welcome, in response to thank you. There were volunteers picking up trash, and we saw exactly four homeless persons. I think living where I do, I had forgotten that there are oases out there where civilization has not marched ahead to rudeness, entitlement, and an inability to meet rent. I have been thinking about this ever since our return. Do I want to live here, or somewhere civilized like Santa Fe? Life is a series of possibilities and choices. As long as I stay where I am, it's a choice. And maybe not a good one.

What Happened Next

 Los Angeles, California

I am not one to tempt fate. However, it is worth inscribing that our compensation for the hell of the fires of January, is the heaven of one of the mildest summers in recent years. Granted, it is only mid-August and a lengthy inferno could hit us all the way into October, but we should be admonished not to complain. We had an entire month of June Gloom, a lovely weather event that brings us overcast mornings giving way to gentle sun in the afternoon, which prevailed almost all the way through July. And after a brief heat wave last week, I awoke earlier this week to those same overcast skies and mild temperatures. How lucky are we?

So, what the hell has been going on in the months where nary a post appeared here? Let's see. There was a lot of adjusting to living in post-inferno LA. We took a census on who amongst our friends, and their friends and family, had been affected. Lynnette's sister was fortunate to not lose her home in the Palisades. But all of the homes across the street were decimated. In some ways, it was equally hard for your home to be spared, as your neighborhood is now unrecognizable and for the most part, deserted. Yes, you could go home again, literally. But figuratively, not so much.

Joel underwent surgery in early April and I stepped into uneasy shoes as his home health nurse. He recuperated at my house and after a few sleepless nights for us both, he got through to the first of several post-op appointments. He returned to work and within the month had a fall at his workplace and injured his shoulder. For the next two months, he was out of work on worker's compensation (code name: No Dancing!).

Worker's comp was an interesting experience. After clearing a few telephone evaluations, it was determined that his injury required in-person medical care. The insurance company contracts with Kaiser Permanente and he was scheduled with a Primary Care Physician who, without examining him, told him he could go back to work. He tried, but it was clear that he could not, as he was in a great deal of pain. So back to Kaiser he went. Meanwhile, he was receiving physical therapy. The physical therapists, as well as the telemedical nurses, inquired as to whether he had received X-rays or an MRI to identify the injury. When Joel returned to Kaiser to see the same PCP, he shared the question that kept being asked: Was the physician going to order X-rays or an MRI? And that physician replied: Who do you think you are? LeBron James?

You know the emoji of the head exploding? That's what happens when Joel loses his temper. The doctor tried to continue, but that was not going to happen. They brought in a facilitator after Joel made it loudly clear that he was was done with that doctor. The facilitator was good. She not only set up an appointment with an orthopedic doctor, she also ordered an MRI, and she gave Joel her cell number, saying he could call at any time.

The MRI revealed a torn rotator cuff. After over a month of no improvement through physical therapy, he was administered a cortisone injection, which immediately took his pain away. Of course, the insurance company's directive is cost management (hence, Kaiser) so getting the injured back to work as soon as possible is the goal, regardless of the potential side effects of cortisone. But Joel really wanted to go back to work. So, pain gone; back to work. And ultimately, back to dancing.

While all of spring was about Joel, I kept busy working out, spending time with friends and attending to a lot of house stuff. I completed phase two of windows and doors replacement in my house. Two down, one to go! I spent time with Lynnette before she left for a summer in the Lake District, UK. And then it was summer...

As I have written here before, my favorite season is autumn. But this summer, with such glorious weather, has been so blissful. Here at the casa, we've been barefoot, and candlelit. The new doors are beautiful and looking out at blooming bougainvilleas around the pool in my courtyard has been a gift. We have been cheering our team at Dodgers Stadium, and have been dancing in the evening each week in the courtyard of the Autry Museum. We recently shared Oaxacan food with Connie and Curt at an LA Oaxacan restaurant, where Joel did all the ordering in Spanish, and we wondered if he was complaining that he had to put up with three gringos who refused to eat chapulines (look it up).

Karen came to stay for a few days and we attended a preview screening of Ken Burns' new documentary which will open the PBS season this fall. The screening was at the Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences Museum, which is next to the LA County Museum of Art.  It is an interesting space with several theaters and a good restaurant, where I had met my friends, Cathy and Beth1 (there is a Beth2) for lunch last year. Karen and I wandered about and finally landed in the bar where I had a very good Bombay Sapphire martini, up with a twist (I'm writing the whole thing out, much like Cathy would, as she calls this retailer by it's full name: Ross Dress for Less). We shared an impossibly delicious burrata with roasted tomatoes and strawberries. I say impossibly, because it was insanely better than it sounds. When we ordered the burrata and a chopped salad to share, our server remarked that it sounded good, but... maybe a side of french fries? Which turned out to be some of the best fries I have ever eaten, and I have eaten a lot of fries!

Just the dinner would have been enough, but after being seated in the theater the program began with the president of PBS SoCal introducing... Ken Burns! With a new haircut! But, as thrilling as that was (big Ken Burns fan), it didn't mitigate the damages of the House voting, that very day, to claw back funds for NPR and PBS. And when we returned home that evening, we learned that the Senate had concurred. And that will be the only reference to politics in this post.

So now, with a bit over a month of summer left, I am returning to my blog after an almost two-season hiatus. Just one more thing... I don't make new year's resolutions, but I do try to manifest some goals when a new year begins. And one of those for 2025 was to move away from writing about politics here, for a variety of reasons, but crystalized here it is: Too easy of a target. On the other hand, when I threw down the moratorium on politics, I think I stymied myself. There is so much going on around us. And much of it appalling. But, I truly do believe that things will get better and hopefully will settle more in the center of things. Besides, and after all, aren't we lucky? We live in California. You know the song, Am I blue..?

Joel and I have a bit of travel coming up, first out of state and later, in my beloved Carmel-by-the-Sea. We will be holding our breath for our terribly fatigued Dodgers to make it to post-season. And then, Halloween, Dia de los Muertos, Thanksgiving and Christmas. Leaves fall, pages fall off the calendar, we will toast with our friends to better times as we watch the summer wane. Enjoy it in all the ways that you can. I highly recommend dancing, while barefoot and candlelit.