From one of the loveliest, most inspired weekends in a long time (though it was not without a sad time in Queens). Where I ate homemade grilled cheese on rye with a malted shake (in honor of Just Kids) and dined at Tipsy Parson (in honor of Seymour: An Introduction).
Where I watched "Seymour" early Saturday afternoon at Lincoln Plaza, with just a few old ladies in the theater. Where I laughed at some of the truths of the music world and considered other aspects I hadn't thought of before. Where I fully enjoyed Schumann's "Phantasie" and was touched to learn from Seymour that Schumann had given a piece to his wife Clara as a wedding gift, with the comment "You are the note of my life." Where I was delighted to find Schumann's "Phantasie for Violin" (Op. 131) and surprised how I had never heard of it before. Where I learned that an asteroid was named for Alban Berg.
Where I finished reading in Central Park, marveling at how lucky and unconventional one artist's life had been. Where I finally saw the Conservatory Garden, admiring the castle-like building across from it, and went to the West Side Community Garden's Tulip Festival. Where I explored Red Hook and ate key lime pie on a stick. Where I made time for a wonderful friend and made my home just a little bit better. This was one memorable weekend.
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