Life, Death and Happiness

We hit the road at 5:07 am and turned on the radio to the news of the apparent suicide of Anthony Bourdain. The news hit me hard. I remember some years ago after "Kitchen Confidential" and before the tv showsthat  Bourdain published a mystery book and was in Portland flogging it at a mystery book store owned by a friend of Kathy’s and mine. He was totally gracious and entertaining, a rare combination. Kathy loved the book and was enamoured of the guy. There is a photo somewhere of a smiling Bourdain side by side with a beaming Kathy. He was late for the event because, I think, he got lost on the way. Rather than throw his assistant under the bus he took full responsibility himself. A small detail that made a large impression.

When I began last year’s road trip I was thinking a lot about life, death and happiness. I didn’t think that this year’s road trip would begin the same way. If you were to design templates for the ideal life, Bourdain’s might well have been one of them. And yet...

The next morning I woke up in Salt Lake City. I’ve driven there so often the past forty-two years I hardly remember the drive. After breakfast I accompanied my hosts to a dance concert performed by two to four year olds, one of whom was their granddaughter. There were thirteen dances of two to four minute duration, six to ten dancers performing in each. I didn’t see any future Osmonds, but I’m sure many of the parents did. I will say, though, that it was one of the cutest dang things I’ve seen in a long time. Of course, I don’t watch cat videos.

In the evening my hosts barbecued at Judy’s old house, now inhabited by their son and his extremely pregnant-with-twins wife. He is into sports, she is into Harry Potter, and the house shows it to the hilt. Judy would have loved it.

Tomorrow I have three engagements. I will meet a cousin for coffee in the morning. I will then visit a Tunisian/Brazilian couple with two delightful college-age kids. Then I will have drinks with a longtime friend of Judy’s and Kathy’s and, of course, mine, who will serve me two scotches and popcorn and will scold me for not staying for dinner. It will be a good day. And a 28 degree temperature drop certainly won’t hurt.