atlanta film festival

Should you catch yourself out and about this weekend, you may care to stop in at the Atlanta Film Festival.

I wanna see a bunch of artsy fartsy movies why you ask? Like most things if it has to be explained to ya, you'll never get it, so let me give you one good reason to go.

The festival is celebrating the 7oth. anniversary of the theatrical release of Gone With The Wind. GWTW's premier on December 15, 1939 was also in Atlanta. Jimmy Carter once said, the opening festival was the biggest thing to happen in the South in his lifetime. Still may be.

In an exceptional movie year, GWTW won 10 Oscars, including Best Film, Director, Actress, and Best Supporting Actress. Adjusted for inflation, it's the highest grossing movie of all time. While its rank on the all time best movie list hovers somewhere around 5, it's a really good flick.

Now, understandably, the movie is not to every one's taste. A lot, thankfully, has transpired in 70 years. We are a better people and a better country now than in 1939. However, we don't make better movies.

Is it good history? No, is any movie?

Is it a good story? Undoubtedly

If your up for the trip, get your tickets early. You need not save the aisle seat for me though. I saw it on TMC Tuesday, and I've a grandson's little league softball game to attend.


Toad

The Census Lady

By nature I am not much of a conspiracy theorist. I don't have the energy. My default position is that if some, Church, Corporation or Government official is going to take the time from their busy day to spin me, they're lying. Might be cynical, but I do know the price of important things, and experience has proven me right more often than not. Go with your gut.

So this morning, there's a knock at the door. We don't get many drop in visitors, especially at that hour of the day. Our friends and family know that we do not want to be seen or talked to much before 10 am. So anyway I need to deal with the door.

Turns out to be a middle age woman representing the Census Bureau.

Is this your front door? she asks.

No I reply, its our back door.

Can you show me the front door?

Why? It's just like this, same color, other side of the house.

I need to see it, please.

OK, walk 180 degrees to the right or left. Stop when you come to the red door. That will be it. Off she goes.

What I did not mention is that there is no real access to the front door. It's a facade. To get there you need to stomp through mud, and up or down a hill,and through the bushes, depending on which direction you go. Don't mind the dog, I cautioned, he may want to jump.

Soon there is knock at the front door. She's kinda unhappy with me.

Just what are you doing I enquire.

I need the exact GPS coordinates of every front door on my list.

Why?

Its for the census next year.

I can think of a hundred and six reasons to want that data, but none good. Do you have any ideas?


Toad
Happy tax day btw.

Commander's Palace

The couple at the next table were worth the price of admission.

He was some indeterminate age, but had me by 8 to 10 years. Maybe more. She was his mother, and was the spitting image of Brooke Astor at 90. Elegant. Trim Chanel suit, silk scarf just so. Sensible pumps.

Locals.

Tables were close, Mrs T. has never met a stranger, so before long they were best friends. He was offering tips on what to order, who has the best...... I asked the Metarie restaurant question which has been plaguing me, and he allowed that Metarie is not somewhere he would ever willingly choose to go, so couldn't help.

He's entertaining mom with tidbits from Vanity Fair. She's grilling him on commodity prices, crop yields. Just eat your apps and dessert momma, the entree can go home to be warmed up tomorrow. It was priceless.

Then I noticed his suit. I'd never encountered anything like it. It was an expensive navy poplin number. Ladies, in a just world, poplin suits, like seersucker, would be near free. Same color and weight as Brooks, but bespoke., broken in, shiny. Maybe his father's for all I know. Open patch pockets, Mardi Gras purple, green, gold lining to the jacket. You know the expression comfortable in his own skin? He had it in spades in this suit.

So mom gets boring and he's telling Mrs. T. about the plantation he and his brother own. They have the best gumbo there you ever wished for. Mrs. T inquires further, but deep down I know she's lying. She eats girl food. Only. If it contains cajun or creole spice, she'll probably pass. Turns out the old guys plantation is near one owned by her cousin. Certainly, they know each other. Best friends for 30 years. Their wives are better friends.

Small world.

Sadly CP was the only disappointment in our travels. Food was good, service was awful.

Toad

Stranger in a Strange Land

Ever play tourist at home?

After a Bloody Mary or two at Easter brunch, I offered to organize a tour of the 5 oldest churches near Mayberry, which my in-laws, the Grouches have never visited. It's going to be tough, since they have been to all the obvious ones. To make it harder, I haven't been to any of them. Their presumption is that I am going to select only Catholic Churches. I've organized similar and very well received tours in Barcelona, Madrid and London for them, but this is the first one at home.

One of Mayberry's larger suburbs was originally a French settled river town. Later immigrations brought German's, Poles, Bohemians and Irish. Catholics are thick on the ground there, but most of their churches were built in the late 1800's. The oldest I can find is 1820. There are several from the 1840's, then it jumps 50 years.

So I have changed the rules to include Protestant churches. Within a 5 minute drive from home are 1840's era Anglican, Presbyterian, and Baptist sanctuaries. An 1860's AME shrine is less than a mile away. Since Catholics have absolutely no conception of anything remotely Protestant this may come as a shock.

You may not accept this on faith, I swear to its truth. Papists can pass a Protestant church everyday for 50 years and never know its name, or its history, or what religion it represents. They simply don't see it. However, all catholic's will know the name of every tiny papist chapel within 30 miles.

There is a wealth of history, hidden in plain site, in our backyard. After this is a planned tour of homestead cemeteries. Mayberry is thick with pioneer burial grounds, which are now located in suburban backyards. Have you ever done any amateur sleuthing near home? I'm finding this fascinating.

Toad

M Magazine

Clay Felker's sale of Esquire Magazine in 1979 marked the beginning of an on going end to one of the storied magazines in history. The fact that it's still published demonstrates the power of a brand. Much like GM for instance. Both should have died many years ago, but inertia keeps it printing.

Realizing that Esquire's day in the sun had passed onto New York Magazine, in 1983 Fairchild Publications made a valiant effort to capture the hearts, minds and wallets, of America's affluent, and stylish males with M, the Civilized Man Magazine. While the title may have been an oxymoron, each month M would publish what could best be described as a catalog, of the dying WASP culture. Anglophilia never had it so good. Ambassador so and so at the Hunt Ball kind of nonsense. It was all done very seriously, and the many of the better class of criminals were shown as being almost respectable people.

For several years, late 83 until perhaps mid 88 or so I subscribed. There was no magazine like it. It was a great tutorial for we slumming wanna be's. The cover shot above is from the first issue, I still have it. Surprisingly much of the advertisers wares held up pretty well over the years. A lot of Ralph, Tommy, Alexander Julian. Nothing too progressive, need I say.

By the late 80's the Establishment was dead, and most interest in it. M wobbled around until '91 or 2 a mere shadow of its former glory.

There is a bit of a cult following for old copies of the Mag. A younger set, who have only heard of the mysteries to be found, search old book stores, or EBAY for mouldering copies. Currently, there are a dozen or so 1986 thru '88 copies on EBAY. I shan't be bidding. I still have the originals.

Happy Easter!
Toad

Roscoe the flying squirrel

Roscoe the flying squirrel is the one on the left. I believe.

Number one son and his family spent a week or so with us last month, and I just discovered this picture, although I remember talking about it at the time.  Mrs. T and I were heading out for the evening and somehow Roscoe ended up with a kiss on the forehead, from just sticked lips.

Toad

Ricky Jay

A frequently seen on late night 70's television was fellow fat man, and living American legend Ricky Jay and his 52 assistants. For those too young to remember, Ricky is a conjurer, a magician, a card throwing wizard, an incredible story teller, and an extremely entertaining author. His 52 assistants were a deck of playing cards.

On The Tonight Show he would warm up the audience by slowly demonstrating the how to of the 3 card monte, or the hid the ball trick, eventually he would work up to his grand finale, which was typically a display of card tossing. For instance he would ask someone in the back of the audience to hold up a banana. From the stage, Jay would throw a playing card in an effort to slice the fruit. Usually, he succeeded.

Since then he has not faded away. He has toured the world with his one man shows, appeared in many of David Mamet's movies and television shows, including Deadwood.

It has rained all day today and I have been rereading Mr. Jay's best seller "Learned Pigs and Fireproof Women". A touch of the off beat for a gloomy day. If the rain continues, tomorrow promises "Jay's Journal of Anomalies".






Toad

I stake my claim on Perlis

Ladies and Gentlemen, I stake my claim to being the first adult to arrive at Perlis Clothiers, 6070 Magazine Street, New Orleans, Louisiana, on foot, after having taken public transportation, since the introduction of the air conditioned automobile. You may contact Guinness for confirmation.

I, on the other hand confirm my order for a Guinness.

I mentioned to Mrs. T. at brunch that I was going out for the afternoon. She was welcome to come, but I hoped she had other plans.

So under the threat of severe storms and heavy hail, I hopped the St. Charles streetcar from the edge of the French Quarter to my intended stop at Webster and hoofed the 6 or 8 blocks to Magazine. Have I mentioned it was warm? Humid is understood, it is NO after all. Mercifully, the storms and hail held off.

Perlis is the place where the local Preppies live. I had a ball. Usual brands, with a most knowledgeable and helpful staff. I went for the white suit experience. One of the few places in the US where a man could pull this stunt off with a straight face. They probably had 100 running feet of racks of white linen suits.

It wasn't till later that I remembered what this reminded me of.

Ever take your sons, or perhaps recall your own experience, to that place where little boys get their First Communion suits? Just like that only for big boys. Sizes well into the 60's, just in case Sidney Greenstreet happened by.

What amazed me most of all was that the store was packed. Tuesday afternoon, heavy storms predicted. All I could figure was that must be the pre-Easter crowd, or it's just that good.

New suit arrived yesterday. Fits perfectly, and its just white enough to attract every mote of dirt, dog paw or wayward drip within 25 feet. Next week, I'm ordering the elusive gray/white seersucker suit.

Toad

Just a wonderment

Ok, so maybe I am not religious. However to my self described credit, I am respectful of the religious choices of others and am tolerant, perhaps too much. Sounds like I have the makings of a good Anglican.

I am also a respecter of tradition, perhaps one of the few left. Allow me to demonstrate.

For Christians and Jews this is a sacred week. Passover, Holy Thursday, Good Friday, Easter, all packed into a short period of time. For Believers this is the most important week of the year.

So why (OK I know why, let me rephrase this). How is it that this week also hosts The Masters, The New York Auto Show, countless baseball and sporting events all without outrage?

Anyone else remember when Sandy Koufax wouldn't pitch his turn in the World Series since it fell on Yom Kippur? Can you imagine a pro athlete with such convictions today?

Have we gone so soft? Have the greens keeper taken over the television world? My television will be off, and I'll be with family this weekend. I usually am anyway.

Toad

A Disappointment

I bet this has never happened to you.

It's rare I make morning appointments. I tend to sleep in, and let the world wake up before me. I believe that since I don't have to be anywhere at any particular time I can leave the merchants and doctor's early appointments for those who do not have the freedom of schedule I have. Makes me feel virtuous.

This morning I had an early appointment. Couldn't be helped. As I lie in the netherworld between dreaming and wakefulness, I mentally assembled my wardrobe for the day. I was gonna look pretty good.

Finally I awoke, had my coffee, attended my ablutions, headed to the closet to assemble my planned outfit, searched too long for the tie and realized I did not OWN a solitary piece of my day's pre assembled raiment. What a downer.

Toad

ballad of little dixie

The ballad of Little Dixie:



It's the heart of Missouri, blooded of three,

Virginia, Kentucky, and Tennessee.

It's a tall spare man on a bluegrass hoss.

It's sugar-cured ham without raisin sauce.

It's coon dog, coon, persimmon tree.

It's son or brother named Robert E. Lee.

It's tiger stalking a jay-hawk bird.

It's the best hog-calling that ever you heard.

It's fiddler fiddlin' you out of your seat,

Fiddler fiddlin' you off your feet.

It's bluebird singing in a hawthorn thicket.

It's vote to a man the Democratic ticket.

It's crisp brown cracklin's and hot corn pone.

It's catfish fried clean off the bone.

It's hominy grits and none of your scrapple.

It's mellow pawpaws and the Jonathan apple.

It's sorghum sweetenin' and belly-warming corn.

It's old Jeff Davis a-blowin' on his horn.

Unreconstructed it rares and bites

At touch of a rein that would curb its rights.

It's come in, stranger, draw up a chair;

There ain't no hurry and we'll all get there

ALDF

If you are fortunate enough to garden in a community with 4 seasons, eventually you will come to appreciate ALDF, the average last day of frost. It's a guide for the unwary.

Each March, as the days begin to warm, Lowe's Depot and their ilk begin to display their annual and perennial flower selections. Be careful, it's a trap.

With the warming days, you begin thinking about doing some planting for Easter. Family is coming over, it would be nice to add some color to the garden. Sucks 'em in every time.

As a counterpoint take a look at the full time garden shops. Nary a flower. Why? They know the ALDF. It's coming, but its not here yet.

In Mayberry, the average last day of frost is April 15th. I've been caught out on the 12th and 14th before, a sadder but wiser man go I.

For the past several weeks we have been in a rut. A day of 50, then 60 something , then 70 then back to 50. Those in a rush to plant before Easter once again have mother nature to contend with.

Saturday was 60 something, Sunday 50 is expected. Snow and a high of 35 forecast for Monday, frost Sunday night, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday.

Every year they suck in the new, the unwary. It oughtta be a crime.

Toad

SSDD

Same photographer, one month earlier, March 2009 New Orleans Magazine. He's got the chops.

Toad

Flicker bulbs?

I promise not to go on forever about New Orleans, but I do have one last observation.

Gas lamps. One of the few remaining cities in the US where you will find a preponderance of old fashioned gas lamps. NO must have stood proud when then they told Jimmy Carter to suck wind. They were not turning their precious gas off.

Gas lantern have come a long way in the last 30 years, but as long as the man in the big truck delivers heat to our house, I'm not yet converting our coach lights to gas. I did discover a suitable substitute though. Flicker bulbs.

Used in moderation they give the appearance of gas light to any chandelier or porch light.

Once again, I realize I'm late to this party, but since they are unavailable in Mayberry (I've checked) I thought I'd pass it on.

Toad

Am I being too sensitive?

This ad appears in the April 2009 New Orleans Magazine, and frankly really offends my delicate sensibilities.

Take a close look, you'll see it.

I am willing to take the photo at face value. Pretty girl, beautiful dress, lovely setting. Yet, something is wrong with this portrait. Am I being too harsh?

Toad

Nahlins Part Deux

After Mondays dinner the thought of getting up and doing it again was initially a challenge. Why not Brennans' for brunch we decided.

I hadn't worn a tie in daylight in ages, but suitably attired, Mrs. T and I walked the few blocks to one of my favorite restaurants.

The forecast was hot , muggy with strong winds, heavy rains and large hail anticipated. We ate inside.

One of my favorite endeavours is watching rich people enjoying their leisure. That's why I always enjoy lunch out. I like watching the ladies who lunch, or the rich old geezers out much younger women who are not their wives. Long leisurely lunches are gifts from the heavens.

Brennan's did not disappoint. 

Finest Bloody Mary in America. Greatest brunch place in town.  Ate like kings and queens. The last word in service.

A friend of ours is a chef there. Sadly, he was off that day, but just the mention chopped the bill in half.

Toad

Imagine the madness

To catch up a bit.

Mrs. T won a trip for two several months ago. We were able to pick from a range of destinations, and selected Nahlins. We hadn't been there since her son's graduation from Tulane the spring before Katrina. Its warmer there than here and we've heard the food is pretty good.

MONDAY

So we left Monday afternoon, were met at the airport by a very nice man in a large shiny car. Arrived at the hotel, checked in, went to our suite and 5 minutes later was a knock at the door.

The concierge very politely welcomed us, wanted us to know the city was at our feet, reminded us of some of the better places, the off the tourist track places and dives. In closing he asked if we had dinner plans and how could he help. We asked he make reservations at Broussards. He said you'll want this then and handed over $500 cash. Enjoy your stay he said.

Imagine giving a fat man $500 to eat with in the Big Easy.

Before I tell you about Brussards let me share a little philosophy. Generally, Mrs T. and I enjoy good restaurants for the food. While out in Mayberry, we are perfectly content to eat dinner early, while the kitchen is gearing up for the mad evening rush, or even a late lunch, as long as we can linger. Dinner as competition, or to so see what neat guy is there is lost on us. Dinner at 6:30 it was.

Brussards is heaven.

The French Quarter was without power for most of the weekend. We were happy to see the world back in its orbit. The advantage of dining early is the staff still has time to be attentive. To linger, to tell you a story, to be people instead of robots. You get first dibs on the better cuts, fresh ingredients, love instead of rote.

The dinning room wasn't crowded, in fact nothing was crowded. We ate outside. The owner's young children played in the courtyard with us. I had the crab cake and smoked salmon appetizer, the chicken gumbo, roast duck with cherries, and chocolate pecan pie, coffee, gin, wine and brandy.

I had to carry the swooning Mrs. T home.

It was an extraordinary meal. The staff attentive, the setting ideal. I'd eat there every other day if I had the opportunity. Tomorrow, Tuesday at Brennan's.

Toad

Thank you Katy

New Orleans was fantastic. In fact it was my best trip to the Big Easy ever. I'll have a lot to say over the next day or so, in the mean time I need to decompress a bit, and let the memories sink in and attempt to separate fact from fun.

Additionally, I would like to take this opportunity those readers who have becoem followers. I appreciate your interest.

Thanks Katy for a great job.

Toad

It's all about who you know

I have a friend, S, who has spent the better part of the last year looking for a new job. She is currently employed but is looking to advance in her career and make more money than she currently is bringing home. While the job market is definitely tough – especially for those in marketing – there are jobs to be found. You just have to be a little flexible. This is the area where S lacks. For her, the job needs to be within a short radius of her house, have a sizeable paycheck and come with pretty standard hours. A few months back, S was interviewing for a job with a locally-based company and I casually mentioned to her that I have a friend, K who works at said company and was likely the final person she would interview with. I said I would put in a good word. Unfortunately for S, right around the time when the company was going to set up the final interview, they announced a hiring freeze and the position was put on hold indefinitely.

Spring forward three months later to present day when a local job website lists this same job as being available again. Needless to say, S contacted me immediately and asked that I put her in contact with K so that she could lobby for the desired position. I talked to K to make sure she would be OK with me passing out her contact information and introduced both women via email. I had sincerely hoped this would be the point at which I could excuse myself from the equation. I thought wrong. I have now been invited to happy hour with both women so that they can meet and network in person. I’m not sure why I need to be there but both feel pretty strongly that they would prefer my presence. At the end of the day, I want S to succeed and find a position that works for her but I don’t really want to be roped in to process. I certainly don’t want friend K to feel like I am pressuring her to make a hiring decision that she would not have done on her own and I don’t want S to feel like she is a shoe in just because I know the person doing the hiring. Hopefully after a glass or two of wine Tuesday night I can convey this to both friends and leave them to network amongst themselves. I realize that in business, who you know plays a very important role but I guess it begs the question of how far should you go to help a friend. Is it best to keep friendship and business separate or do you do what you can to help a friend succeed?

April Fools

I was going to have some fun with you and plan an April fool’s day prank for all of Toad’s loyal readers but it occurred to me that you don’t really know me all that well and probably wouldn’t know if I was joking or serious so I had to rethink that plan. I decided to channel Toad and though that something a little more historical was probably in order. So with that, I bring you the unconfirmed origins of April Fool’s Day.

According to several websites, April Fool’s Day began in the 1500s when the Gregorian calendar took over from the Julian calendar. With the Julian calendar, New Years was celebrated on April 1st. Given that the internet and cell phones had yet to be invented at the time of the switch, many were slow to learn about the calendar change. Those who continued to celebrate New Years on April 1st were teased as being “April Fools”. In my quick research on the topic I found that many cultures revel in this day, each having their own traditions. In England, April Fool’s Day is only celebrated in the morning as it’s considered bad luck to play a practical joke on someone after noon. In Scotland, April Fools Day is all about pranks involving the buttocks and apparently the “Kick Me” signs which are still seen on many a sitcom or highschool hallway can be traced back to Scotland. Who’d of thought? In the United States it is said that if a girl successfully pranks a young man, they will someday marry. Quite honestly, I had never heard this before today but it is a sweet thought so I’ll buy it. The world could use a little more sweetness in my opinion.
Be on your guard today. If you are as gullible as I am, someone is bound to get you! Hopefully it’s all in good fun.