The Vintage Reader

Last week we took a rather impromptu trip to New York. Mr. VR was speaking at THREE, count 'em, THREE, events for librarians, and staying with his aunt and uncle, and we decided, sort of on the spur of the moment, that it would be fun for all three of us to go. We all drove down together on Thursday, then Vintage Baby and I drove back on Sunday, leaving Mr. VR there to fly back later.

We didn't get to see much of New York, but VB and I went on a whirlwind tour of the Met with my aunt-in-law. Seriously, we were there for an hour and a half--just long enough to see the Impressionists and some of the artists of the Hudson River school, which I've wanted to see for a long time. I do love those gorgeous lush landscapes. And I just never get over how completely cool it is to see a portrait of someone like George Washington or Queen Victoria painted from life. Wow.

We spent Saturday at the Bronx Zoo, and we had a great day for it. If we had had a little more time I would have liked to go to the Botanical Garden as well (along with about a million other things); I think we're going to have to start a tradition of an annual pilgrimage and somehow, over the next 30 years or so, maybe we'll do everything I'd like to do in New York.

Of course, anyone who reads a lot has a certain mental image of New York. Mine is largely from a different time. At the Met, I thought of From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, a children's classic that I have somehow never read. When we turned onto Central Park West I looked up at the apartment windows and knew that it was 1935, and Marjorie Morningstar (née Morgenstern) was looking out one of them. Going to the zoo, I tried to remember whether it was the zoo in a YA book called It's Just You and Me, Cat (I think; I can't find it in Google and I'm too lazy to log in and check WorldCat) [EDIT: Actually, the book is Newbery winner It's Like This, Cat] that I read in 6th grade.

In my mind, New York is made up of bits and pieces of Anita Loos, Patrick Dennis, Dorothy Parker, Robert Benchley, E. B. White, Jacqueline Susann, Faith Baldwin, Paul Zindel, Philip Roth, Sophie's Choice, the photonovel of Saturday Night Fever (yes, I did have the photonovel of Saturday Night Fever!) and Harriet the Spy, all with a soundtrack by Simon and Garfunkel. Somebody--either Jaime Weinman or The Retropolitan--wrote once, maybe a year ago, about a certain time in the 70s and 80s when New York, in the movies and on TV, looked like the most wonderful, beautiful, incredible, place in the world. That's the New York I think of when I think of New York: the New York of Arthur Bark, not the New York of Lennie Briscoe (although certainly the New York of Jerry Orbach). I think I've been afraid to go, all these years, for fear that it wouldn't live up to my mental image, but I was in Manhattan itself for less time than it takes to watch Sophie's Choice, so it never really had a chance to go one way or the other, and my mental collage remains intact.

And then I was back on the road, and that was very nice too. There are worse ways to spend a rainy Sunday than driving on a good road through lush downstate greenery, with a sleeping baby in the back seat, listening to Sam Phillips and the soundtrack from Next Stop, Wonderland and John Mayer (I'd link, but his web site is REALLY annoying).

What's that? John Mayer? Oh, did you think The Vintage Reader doesn't listen to anything produced more recently than 20 years ago? Well, see, that's the other thing I like about Internet radio. I can hear the new music that doesn't get played on regular (read: Clear Channel) radio, and go out and buy more of the stuff I like. And there's something about "Room for Squares" that I just really like. Even though the songs remind me of a time I didn't particularly enjoy--my early 20s--they kind of remind me of the good part of that time, too. Looking back, it seems like a lot more fun than I remember thinking it was at the time. And just about the time I've lulled myself into believing that it was kind of fun after all, the CD changes over to The Indescribable Wow and I remember what it was really like.

See, even though Sam Phillips is still releasing albums every few years, I have been listening to her for nearly 20 years now. And although the Next Stop, Wonderland soundtrack is less than 10 years old, the music on it is all 60s Brazilian classics: Jobim, various Gilbertos, your standard Girl from Ipanema/Desafinado/Mas que Nada mix, albeit a particularly smooth mix. But still, I do have some new music in the CD changer from time to time.

So altogether, not a bad trip, but I'm glad I'm home now instead of driving on the Thruway. I like to drive, but I'd rather be home reading. And on that note, I think I'll go back to the Barbara Michaels book from the 70s that's been on my TBR list for a while. Ah, summer. Time to sit in the recliner and read throwaway thrillers and eat Eskimo Pies. Too bad I don't have any Eskimo Pies. Or a recliner.

Well, you know what Meat Loaf said:

I was a varsity tackle, and a hell of a block, and when I played my guitar, I made the canyons rock...

oh, wait.

Two out of three ain't bad. Yeah, that's it.