Guayabo National Monument

Christmas Day was a “quiet-around-the-house day” for us (unlike Christmas Eve – we were at home, but there were loud fireworks being set off in the next house up our mountain road), but the following day, the third day after Soraya had been born, we set off for our first touristic experience – a visit to the Guayabo National Monument.  We drove up the hill to Santa Cruz, then turned right for a trip over the hills to our destination.  This was a distance of only 13 kilometers, but what with paved but potholed  roads, combined with dirt roads that were even rougher, the trip took us a solid hour.  (We learned on our way back that there was a fully-paved approach route that was several miles longer but took much less time to drive)
Guayabo National Monument is an archeological site for a pre-Columbian settlement that was first occupied around 1000 BC.  From about 800 AD to about 1400 AD, the leadership of a group of people numbering about 20,000 at its height.  We followed two different paths and looked at the ruins.  What remains to be seen at the site are several stone structures.  All of the artifacts that have been found through excavations beginning in the 1960's are exhibited at various Costa Rican museums. There were a number of interpretive signs, but the place might have been more meaningful with an English-language guide – but she was on vacation that day, and it was not clear that a Spanish-language guide (Sam could have translated) was available either.

The first thing we could see along the path was this petroglyph featuring an alligator on one side and a jaguar on the other.

We continued to a viewpoint from which we could see the much of the site with the distant mountains in the background.

Here we are at ground level, looking at the “central mound,” an elevated platform on which it is believed that conical wooden structure was located, housing the leader of the community,

and then the main square in front of that mound, built in around 1000 AD

From there we walked beside the Calzada Caragra, the walkway which, when the community flourished, led from the entrance of the area to the leader’s residence.

The square mounds are believed to have formed the base of guard stations protecting the entrance to the Calzada.

These steps led from the entrance up to the Calzada Caragra

These round mounds are in pairs, like figure eights.  The interpretive signs indicated that such formations of this sort are unseen elsewhere

On the way home from the monument, we stopped off at Restaurante El Cruce, a very simple place that Sam and Nafisa had visited previously.  They enjoyed the tilapia sandwich platter that they had eaten on their earlier visit, while I had the fajitas (the meat was bit tough).

Visiting family in Costa Rica – Turrialba

This year’s winter vacation has a different twist – we have come to Costa Rica to help our son Sam and daughter-in-law Nafisa  while they have a baby, our second grandchild.  More than anything else, our role will be to pay attention to our twenty-month old grandson Abe and, thereby, help him cope with his loss of status as the only child who gets the full attention of his parents.

They live along the beach on the Pacific Coast, and we hope to get there eventually, but Nafisa is determined to have a home birth using a midwife (she  herself is trained as a midwife among other specialties), and the Costa Rican health system, although excellent in many ways, shows a strong bias toward hospital births with obstetric interventions, resulting in a high rate of induction of labor and delivery by Caesarian section.  There are no midwives in the region of Costa Rica where Sam and Nafisa live, so they had to travel to the vicinity of San Jose.  They found a midwifery team based in Turrialba, a small city (about 33000 people) to the east of San Jose, and because birth dates are imprecise, they had to find housing in the area so that they could be within range of the midwives when labor begins.  The lead midwife has a house "Casa Verbena," available for her clients in the hills above Turrialba, so that is where Sam, Nafisa and Abe are ensconced.

We arrived at the airport in San Jose in the early afternoon, but the line at immigration took ninety minutes, and by the time we had secured our luggage, made it to the rental car facility, and obtained our rental car with the requisite insurance tripling the cost of the rental, it was after 5 PM and darkness was approaching.  We were anxious to see our family, but given the rough quality of many Costa Rican roads were did not want to risk driving all the way there in the dark.  So instead, we found our way to the Best Western Irazú few miles from the airport where we were able to snag last-minute reservations.  It was dark as we drove there, and traffic was a bit terrifying, but we used Waze to find our way there and despite a missed turn at a traffic circle we arrived fairly easily.  We arrived just in time to take advantage of a “welcome drink” coupon at the in-hotel restaurant.  The food in the restaurant was sufficient for our needs – I had Chifrijo as an appetizer which alone was close to providing enough food for dinner.

We called Sam and Nafisa to give them the bad news that we were not going to make it to Turrialba that day, and Sam gave me some really bad news – my father had died that very afternoon.  It had been very hard leaving the U.S. knowing that my father would likely not live until we returned, but we had promised Sam and Nafisa that we would come help out with the birth and there were other members of the family to stay with him.  Amazing coincidence:  on the plane ride from Fort Lauderdale to San Jose, shortly after takeoff, I began sobbing thinking about my father and his impending death.  Turns out this was just the time when he died.

The morning after our airplane arrival, we had the buffet breakfast (contents quite adequate), which was served in a room that opened up into the hotel’s garden, making the experience very nice.  Our room was a tad small, but for an airport hotel this was a good choice.

Then we hopped in the car and drove off to Turrialba, or, more precisely, to Verbena Norte, a tiny community located in the mountains twenty minutes outside Turrialba.  The roads to Turrialba were fine, but there were many potholes in the roads up in the hills —this would not have been a pleasant drive to make for the first time in the dark.  We finally reached our destination in the late morning - a three story house with a bedroom on each floor, a bathroom and a wrap-around desk on the main two floors, and a living room and kitchen on the main floor.  The view from the decks is glorious – we look out over the valley in which Turrialba is situated, with high mountains ringing the valley – two volcanoes (Volcan Turrialba and Volcan Irazú) are behind those mountains, although neither is visible from the decks. 

Turrialba is about 2000 feet over sea level, and we are another 1500 feet up, so that we can sometimes see clouds below us.  We can be in the rain, at the bottom of a cloud, and still see Turrialba clearly.   Or Turrialba might be shrouded by a cloud but we can see the distant mountains clearly.

And there is a fair amount of rain.  It is generally clear in the morning, but there is almost always an afternoon or evening shower. 

December 22, the day after our arrival, was the hardest – the memorial service for my father  was held back in New York.  At least we were able to watch by a group Skype call and, in fact, Sam and I were each able to deliver our eulogies for him.  That day, the midwife, Rebecca Turecky (who operates her practice under the auspices of a non-profit, Mamasol, that she originally created with a partner) came by in the afternoon to talk about plans for the birth and to get to know her patient a little better.  In the evening, we ate out at a restaurant called the Rio  that Turecky had recommended.  It was fine although perhaps a little pricey.  I had a stuffed canneloni that was pretty good, and Abe ate fully half of his adult portion of lasagna.  The special thing here is the desserts, though — we were too full to have dessert but on a takeout basis later in the trip we enjoyed a nutella cangrejo (a triangle of pizza dough rolled over nutella and shaped into a pretzel, then baked in the pizza oven), and a passion fruit mousse cake.  Yum!

Turned out that the midwife had come by just in time, because Nafisa had her baby the very next morning.  In fact, her labor began at about 3:30 AM.  The previous two days, in the course of visits to the fruit and vegetable store and the butcher, Sam and Nafisa had pointed to a municipal park where we might think of taking Abe so that he would not be in the house, freaking out about his mother going through labor; they took us to a smaller park where he had become used to playing.  All these plans turned out to be unnecessary, and indeed our basic reason for coming was moot in that Abe slept right through the labor and birth, and awoke to find himself a big brother.  (Despite his parents' repeatedly telling him about the impending birth and building up his concept of being a big brother, his initial reaction was somewhat bewilderment.)

I slept through it too, but my wife Nancy was awake and was able to help the birth team.  And just after 6 AM, as I was finally waking up to the sound of a birthing pool being inflated, the labor got serious and at 6:23 a beautiful baby girl, Soraya Moana Levy-Jiddawi, came into the world

Nafisa's perspective on her birthing experience.

The following day, we started to explore the grounds of the house where we were staying.  There was a trail that switch-backed down the hill,

past a variety of interesting flowers, including heliconia

the maraca (another form of heliconia)

and ginger plants

There were a number of banana  

and orange trees, but the fruits were all too high to reach.

Underfoot there were trails of leaf-cutter ants
 

Harold Levy

This is the eulogy I prepared for the memorial service of my father, Harold Levy.  As delivered, some items were left out because my others who spoke before me had already mentioned them.  Sam's eulogy follows

Hal grew up in the Depression. He was born into an Orthodox family, living first on the Lower East Side, then in Bensonhurst.  He enlisted in the army and served in served in Germany. 
                       
He never gloried in his combat experiences, as some veterans do.  In fact, I never heard him talk about combat until a couple of weeks ago, a story I’ll tell near the end of what I have to say.  I remember him talking about the ennui, about falling asleep while marching.  Hal was a champion sleeper.  If you asked him how he had slept the response was always that he had slept well all night.  I also remember a story he used to tell about basic training — there was one soldier who was also first to the table and first to ask, pass this, pass that.  So one day, they maneuvered him to sit at one end of the table and, instead of waiting for him to ask to have things passed, they just upended the table so that everything just slid right down onto him.

Another World War II story related to anti-Semitism.  For Hal, basic training was his first exposure to world outside New York, and for many other at basic training, it was their first exposure to Jews.  In 1944, a number of soldiers were assembled to ship over to Germany to serve as replacements for casualties.   Was it only a coincidence that every one of the replacements was Jewish?  Sure, let them be the first of the group to be killed.  The rest of the soldiers in that basic training group went over to Europe as a unit, and ended up at the Battle of the Bulge, where the group was decimated.  

For Hal, “liberal” was never a dirty word.  He was proud to be considered a liberal  Democrat.  When he left the service, he joined the American Veterans Committee, a left/liberal response to the conservative VFW and American Legion.

He married Beatrice Kachuck, his college sweetheart; they first lived with her parent in Brooklyn, then in Queens, then Levittown.  In Levittown, he became active in local politics.  Back then, the Margiotta machine in Nassau County was the toughest Republican machine in the whole country: a Democrat couldn’t get elected as dogcatcher.  Hal was active in the local Democratic committee, and many of his  life-long friendships came from among his fellow activists:  Norman Levine, Dave Schechter, Don Hirschhorn, Wilbur Lew, Stan Harwood. 

He and Bea found more success pushing to improve the public schools. The dynamic back then was that people without children (relatively rare in the veteran-heavy suburbs) as well as people with kids in Catholic schools, did not want taxes to pay for public schools.  The Committee for Better Education, rather than the Democratic Party, was the instrument that Hal and his friends used for bi-partisan work to improve public education.  But meantime, the Democrats had losing candidate after losing candidate, Adlai Stevenson and so forth.

This group formed the tradition of Fourth of July at Jones Beach.  We would aim to show up at 6 AM, early enough to nab a grill to cook eggs, bacon and the like for breakfast.  There would be screwdrivers and Bloody Marys, but we would head down to the beachfront for swimming, then come back for breakfast.  The tradition included reading the Declaration of Independence, then as now printed in full on the back page of the first section of the New York Times.    The day would go on after the beach at someone’s house.  As the Levittown group spread out, tradition continued with going to Julian Kane’s house in Great Neck.
               
In 1961, we moved to Freeport. Levittown was all-white, as I recall (in fact, restrictive covenants preserved that) and Hal and Bea wanted to raise their children in an integrated community.  In Freeport, Hal assumed a leadership position in the local Democratic Party.  The place was still very Republican, and anti-Semitic to boot. I remember a story about time when Hal and some others went to complain to Police Chief Elar about something.  The chief knew very well was Hal’s name was but, throughout the meeting, he addressed Hal as “Mr. Goldberg.”
   
Victories began to come for the local Democrats.  Gene Nickerson was elected as County Executive, and a centrist Democrat, Herb Tenzer, was elected to Congress.  Hal continued the struggles to keep the public schools funded; Democrats were able to form coalitions with liberal  Republicans to get good people elected to the school board and bond issues passed.

I became active in anti-war movement.  Hal was initially reluctant about that, worried about splitting the Democrats and opposed a Democratic President. Eventually, though he became active in that.  I remember our weekly Sunday morning vigils at the Freeport Post Office (where Tenzer had his congressional office).  I was among the organizers but Hal would also join us from time to time

There was a huge change in 1968.  We had been supporting a local left candidate, Al Dorfman, running in Congressional primary, and supporting Gene McCarthy in primary against Johnson.  National reform leader Al Lowenstein picked our district as the one in which he would seek office, effectively pushing Al Dorfman out of the race.  (Dorfman was shunted over to running for District Attorney).  Lowenstein brought scores of young activists from around the country to support his candidacy.  We housed several of them, both during the primary campaign, in which I participated, and in the general election, which took place after I had left for college.   Hal was in the thick of it, leading the Freeport part of the campaign, and our candidate was elected, although he was able to serve only one term, because the Republicans defeated him by redistricting after the 1970 census, taking a large bloc of heavily Democratic voting areas out of his district.

During these years, I had my own political activities and Hal had his.  I never  worked closely with him on same campaign, but I had the chance to do so in 1971.  Charles Evers, the brother of Medgar Evers, was running for governor of Mississippi. The hard work of registering voters was done, and this was the beginning of getting black population to run for office.   Evers wanted to motivate local people to engage in campaigns, and to put themselves forward to run for legislative positions, so that he could run on a slate of candidates throughout the state and not be all by himself on the ballot.  The national Democrats sought experienced electoral campaign organizers to come to Mississippi to work in each legislative district.  Hal was one of those, and Dan and I went along.  We were assigned to Tunica, Mississippi, south of Memphis.  I was exposed for the first time to his qualities as a political organizer, cajoling local people, very much against their economic interest (because the white establishment was in full control of the economy) to step forward and run for office, helping put together election campaign.   He was deeply engaged in the community, and within the only ten days we were there, he brought forward candidates, created election committee, and formulated a basic campaign plan.   During the course of a long weekend trip we took to Memphis several years ago, Nancy and I visited Tunica, and then then-head of the local NAACP, Calvin Norwood, remembered with gratitude Hal’s efforts  more than forty years before.

Hal’s commitment to his community rested side by side with his engagement with his family.  He loved his family, both his immediate family and his extended family.   I particularly recall his engagement with his grandchildren.  A memory he loved to recall was his first introduction to Sam, the first of his grandchildren.  He and Rona came down to DC within a day of Sam’s birth.  He came to the hospital, but was nervous about holding his new grandson.  “Nancy said: pick him up, pick him up.”  I heard him remember that fondly many times; he repeated that story when he first met Abraham, and when he spoke to Sam and Abe over phone during his final days.

Hal loved to travel.  He did this during both marriages.  He traveled separately with Bea, and with Rona, but he took particular care to travel with his broader family.  Every summer we would travel as a family.  Most often it was to upstate NY – Scroon Lake, Loon Lake, Lake George, once there was a splurge visit to Mohonk.  Each year we would go to a different place, with Dan and me wanting to go back to where we had been the year before.  But we also went to Maine, to Quebec, to the  Carribbean.  I remember one six week swing through Western US.

After Sam and Joe were born, he made sure to travel with each of them separately, taking Elderhostel trips with each of them as well as taking the whole family on trips, such the beach community where we all went on Tuscan coast – Forte dei Marmi – as well as inland Tuscan cities of Florence and  Lucca.

And then there was Stone Pond, the house in New Hampshire where he and Rona would spend time each summer, and where they stayed the entire summer after they retired.  Hal would wake up every morning, and then, as I recall about 8 AM, he would head down to the lake for a bracing swim in the chilly water.  They (and we) went hiking, especially on Mt Monadnock; we would see the Peterborough players, and  Monadnock music.  When we visited there was always a lobster dinner.       
This is our family gathering place. Hal was so frustrated when his disabilities made it too hard for him to go to Stone Pond.  Even though he was not using it himself, it was important to him that he be paying the bills, enabling the family’s use.  The place was always on his mind.  Chingchai’s watercolor of the view of the lake from the cabin was always on the wall of his room where he could see it. He was happy each time he heard abut someone from our generation, or the next generation, going to sty there, and he was very reassured to keep hearing that the ensuing generations are intent on keeping the house in the family.
               
Hal married his college sweetheart.  Bea was an atheist, and we were raised as secular children.  Yet Hal always enjoyed the Jewish traditions.  Not only the bar mitzvahs, but high holidays with Bea’s parents (who were secular when Bea was growing up but got a bit religious as they got older).  I did not want a bar mitzvah, and Hal was fine with that choice, but he was pleased, I think, when Dan decided to have one.   Maybe he was  disappointed that our children did not.  He enjoyed the family rituals of Hannukah and the annual seder, including the Freedom Seder that he celebrated beginning around 1970, in which we celebrate Passover as a feast for the liberation of all peoples, not just the Jewish people.


To all appearances, Hal and Bea has  a perfect marriage.  It seemed that way to me. He was devastated when it ended, as was I, and much of the rest of the family.  One of Bea’s sisters reproached her for smashing her idealized image that at least one person she knew had the perfect marriage.

I am so grateful that he found a new soulmate in Rona, with whom he happily spent the rest of her life.  It is intriguing that Rona and Bea were so similar.  Similar build, similar intellect, similar commitment to social justice.  Similarly feminist, and similarly strong-minded and insistent that things be done her way.

His feeling for his family extended beyond immediate family to nieces, and nephews, and their mates and their children.  He became a surrogate father / brother to many of them, offering counsel and comfort through hard times.  His counsel was not necessarily advice, but just someone to talk to.  I heard about this from someone in the Amsterdam community whom he befriended over the years.  She was having some issues, I’m not sure exactly what, and got some help from Hal. What she said was:

“Hal was a good listener.  He was also non-judgmental. And when he was approached for advice he didn't throw it out at someone, (didactically), instead he led the person along the path of figuring out the best solution at that time.”

And he was especially delighted to build relationship with the grand-children of his cousin Aaron.  In his last days, he urged Dan and me to maintain our relationship with Elisa, Sharon and Jeremy; and we told him, of course, they are family.

He was saddened to have lost contact with many of the Kachuck family, after Bea made it clear to her family that they had to choose between him and her.  But he was so very pleased when, as Bea descended into dementia and stopped caring about contact with Hal, he was able to reconnect with members of the Kachuck family, especially Gloria, Michael, and Rozzie.

Hal had a wonderful community at the Amsterdam.  When they first moved there, I could not help wondering, why would you leave your great house in Rockville Center?  But he and Rona made a great choice moving here.  He built a network of friends and got love back as well as great care.  When it came time for him to move from independent living to assisted living, then skilled nursing, Dan and I urged him to think about moving to DC, so that he would be closer to us.   He chose not to do that, thinking not only of the family in New York with whom he would have less contact, but also about his own community there at the Amsterdam.  The residents and staff made him feel he belonged, and for that we are very grateful.

Hal Levy spent his life giving love to his community, to his friends, to his family.   These last few days we have seen a reflection of that love in the outpouring of response from his friends and extended family, who visited when they could (sometimes at great effort), and called when they could not.

Hal was ready to die at the end: as he said to us, I’ve had a good run. He did not wish to live without being able to move his limbs and feed himself.  But he had a final wish, which he expressed in the first combat story I ever heard from him. 

He was not speaking much at that point, a day or so after he got out of the hospital.  He was slurring his words, but he said something that sounded like Herzog and bridge.  As I bent over, it was clear he was talking about having exploded a bridge.   I had always assumed from his marching stories that he carried a rifle in infantry, but he began speaking clearly about how he had handled a mortar, and so had exploded the bridge. 

And he began to speak clearly about life in combat.  “I was scared all the time.  I was afraid of being hit, and being out there to die all alone.   That was the worst thing."

Hal did not want to die alone, and he did not die alone.  His extended family was with him; they came to say goodbye, to share memories, to share their love, to be with him, until the end.

We will miss him terribly.

Our closing for his death notice:  
In lieu of flowers, please honor his memory and follow his example by committing your time, energy and money to electing a progressive Democratic candidate in a swing district.  In the alternative, you might consider one of his favorite  institutions, the American Civil Liberties Union.

Sam's Eulogy

I love my grandpa Hal very much. Because I'm not going first, I believe it would be redundant to name all of Hal's qualities, as I'm sure people have already talked about his kindness, his gentleness, his love for life and his love of people. Simply put, Hal was the kindest person I've ever met, and I will always hold him as an example of what a friend, husband, brother, father, grandfather, and great-grandfather should be.
Rather than talk about his qualities, I'd like to share a few memories that I will always hold dear:
- Grandpa Hal and Grandma Rona walking me to school (or to Ontario Park - I can't remember…) and singing "On the Sunny Side of the Street"
- Hal rubbing my back to help me go to sleep or relax and saying "Sweet Sam"- this strikes me as odd now, because, as I think of it, Hal's first wife, my Grandma Bea used to rub my back the same way and also said, "Sweet Sam". I ALWAYS BELIEVED THEM 
- Hal showed me how to ride my first two-wheeler in Rockville Centre (he was an incredibly patient man) and then I promptly got hit (albeit lightly) by the neighbor who was backing their car out of the driveway.
- Eating mortadella and fresh baguette
- Drinking coffee and having fresh squeezed orange juice for breakfast
- Bourbon Manhattans (straight up with a twist)
- Climbing Mount Monadnock (he did so well into his early 80s)
- The pride he took in his family (he was so proud of his kids- Paul and Dan (and their spouses Nancy and Chingchai, and he was so proud of Shari and Mitch, and their spouses Dave and Lisa)
- Hal loved his brother Mel (I have the vaguest recollection of Mel holding an unlit cigar at Rockville Centre) and his sister Pearl so much!
- He loved his grandkids and grandnephews and cousins and nieces and nephews with an amazing fervor. As Nafisa and I await the birth of our second child, we sometimes wonder how in the great world we'll be able to love Abraham so much, and love our new baby so much…Hal gives us the example: he loved so many people and was able to give each and every person he loved 100% of his heart! His heart was enormous! He was able to add people to his heart with such ease, without compromising his love for anybody else.
- I loved looking at the photos of the people he loved so much that are tacked to the wall in the cabin in New Hampshire and that were on the fridge in Rockville Center. I'll always think of the photo of the tiger that he and Rona saw while on the back of an elephant (I hope I got that memory right?)
- I am hoping someone can help me fill in this partial memory- Hal would tell me about either sneaking into baseball games (would this be the Brooklyn Dodgers or the Yankees?) or selling peanuts or tickets as a way to get into and watch games?
- I will remember him recounting his games of stickball in the street when he was a kid…I have always tried to picture him playing  ??
- I will always remember going out on the canoe or on the little white and yellow sailboat.
- I will always remember our trip to Seattle and the sailing trip we took from Puget Sound. I got to know Phyllis Levy and Lou, and their wonderful kids on that trip.
- I remember Hal reflecting about his time in the army when we visited the WWII memorial, a relief of a mortar team brought tears to his eyes…
- I will remember Rona's lobster dinner and Hal's grilled shish-kebabs in New Hampshire
- I will remember Hal taking his morning swims in Stone Pond (and marvel at how that could be enjoyable because its extra frigid in the morning!)
- I will always remember the first time (and the second and the third) that Hal held Abraham in his arms. He loved that boy and I know he loves our unborn baby too. I was so proud to know that my grandpa saw me as a father!
- Nafisa shared with me her memory of when she first met Hal and Rona; they had driven down from NY and picked us up at our home on Irving St. They took us to their favorite D.C. restaurant, Busboys and Poets on 14th St. and the nervousness that Nafisa had felt, instantly melted away. They made her feel so comfortable and at ease. They took us to the Cherry Blossoms afterwards. Nafisa loved that Rona would ask strangers to take our photo. Hal and I would get slightly embarrassed. Hal found life-partners who were so different form him in Bea and then in Rona. Both life-partners required the infinite amount of patience that Hal possessed. The payoff was enormous though, as they were also such special people, both diligent in making the world around them a better place!
- I loved looking at all the books Hal and Rona had, he was a voracious reader up until the end-I'll remember that they had a special dictionary on a dictionary stand in both Rockville Centre and Stone Pond.
- I will remember Hal (and usually Rona) coming to my basketball games at Jelleff (Hal was a baller by the way-Brooklyn College---if anyone has a photo of him playing or in his uniform I'd love to have it!), my soccer games all over the place, and even to my high school track meet in White Plains, NY. I will remember their proud faces at various graduations of mine as well.
- Hal always loved my friends and asked about them- especially my good friend Dario.
- I will remember Hal and Rona listening to NPR- they were so good at the puzzles! Hal was a humble intellectual---reminds me of the quote that the more you know, the more you realize you don't know.
- I will remember riding with Nafisa and Hal and Rona in the red Toyota on the way back to NY from Joe's UConn graduation. It was on this ride that I realized that Grandma was starting to get confused…it was frightening to watch a person with such sharp intellect confuse the seatbelt for a telephone…she could not have had a better and more supportive partner than Harold Levy.
- I will remember all of the people who sat by Hal's bedside in his final weeks. I appreciate all of you so much; it helped me deal with the fact that I could not be there, to know that so many of his loved ones were holding his hand, calling to talk to him, and giving him Bourbon Manhattan by sponge! A special thanks to Phil and Karen Alterman Levy, who have given Hal so much love and support, especially once he and Rona moved to the Amsterdam.
- I am so thankful that my amazing brotherJoe Levy was spending time with Hal basically every other week over the last few years. I love you Joe.
- Joe tells me that Grandpa, when they were saying their goodbyes, wanted Joe and me to be ourselves, and trust ourselves.
- I appreciate Sharon Blynn's words- calling Hal her "heart light" and sharing the Khalil Gibran quote have helped me…I appreciate all the Blynn's and their loving spirits- Hal certainly did!
- 93 years is a long time; Grandpa had seen so much. NYC, the United States, and the world have changed so much since 1924…he did indeed "have a good run"
- I will miss how Hal smelled
- I will miss his smile
- I will miss his Shell belt buckle.
- I will miss him telling me, whenever we were saying goodbye on the phone, to give Nafisa a big kiss on the forehead
- He lovedNafisa Levy-Jiddawi so much
- I will miss him saying Beee-you-ti-ful and Deee-licious---I have been saying that to Abe as much as I can.
I will miss my grandpa Hal so much, and am so glad for the time we were able to spend with him.

Dissing Trump on the wall of his hotel using projected light

In the news recently has been the work of protest projectionist who has been casting messages in light up onto the lintel of the Trump International Hotel, featuring the Emoluments Clause, the legend "Emoluments Welcome" and "Pay Trump Bribes Here."

Over at the Volokh Conspiracy, Eugene Volokh has an analysis of the legal issues.  I had a chance recently to look at the legal issues specifically from a DC law perspective.  As I read the cases, under current law, the hotel would not win a lawsuit against the projectionist (I leave aside whether the DC Council could adopt a content-neutral law regarding the projection of light communicating messages onto the buildings of others).  Here is what I found

First Amendment Implications of Bar Charges Against Kellyanne Conway

The Washington Post reports that several law professors have filed an ethics complaint with the DC Bar, charging Trump “spinmaster” Kellyanne Conway with breach of her ethical responsibilities as a member of the DC Bar by spouting various lies.  The specific disciplinary rule at issue:  Rule 8.4(c), which forbids “conduct involving dishonesty, fraud, deceit, or misrepresentation.”  The letter cites three examples of lies (Conway’s mindless references to the “Bowling Green massacre,” her falsely portraying a policy of Barack Obama toward Iraqi refugeees, and her use of the term “alternate facts”) and one example that has nothing to do with lies – her violation of a federal statute by using her public position to endorse some of Ivanka Trump’s products and urge consumers to buy them.  (Public Citizen has rightly criticized that ethical misconduct, and after the Office of Government Ethics called out that violation, it called for her to be disciplined by the federal government.  That seems right to me. But the bar charge admits that this example has nothing to do with Rule 8.4 – was it added just to make the charge of lying seem more weighty?)

My view is that bar charges like this one are a threat to the First Amendment, that bar grievance officials, as public officials working in the judicial branch, are an organ of the government and hence are constrained by the First Amendment, and that they should not conduct proceedings that risk chilling free speech rights.  Consequently, the DC Bar should promptly dismiss the charges.

Our last day in Yangon: Nga Htat Gyi and Chauk Htat Gyi Payas

After another nice breakfast, we had to decide where to go for our last morning of sightseeing in Yangon before heading to the airport for our series of flights back to D.C.  I wanted to go see the Boatatung Paya along the river in downtown Yangon, but Nancy was worried about getting trapped in downtown traffic and having trouble getting back to our hotel in time to leave for the airport.  She had located two payas to visit that were a bit closer to our hotel, and very close to each other; in the end that is where we went.

Our first stop was the Nga Htat Gyi Paya, its spot marked by two giant chinthes sitting by a gate along the side of the road. 

Chinthes at entrance to Nga Htat Gyi Paya, Yangon

We entered a long passageway and then stairway climbing a hill to reach the temple.  The main attraction here was a huge sitting Buddha dating from the mid-16th Century, although in a building erected at the very beginning of the 20th Century

Sitting Buddha in Nga Htat Gyi Paya, Yangon

Sitting Buddha in Nga Htat Gyi Paya, Yangon

The Buddha sat in front of two intricately carved wooden screens

Wooden screens behind Sitting Buddha in Nga Htat Gyi Paya, Yangon

Wooden screens behind Sitting Buddha in Nga Htat Gyi Paya, Yangon

On the way into the great hall containing the seated Buddha, we passed a cage holding a large number of white round papers, looking rather like plates, that were festooned with 5000 and 10000 kyat notes running around the edges; each “plate” had writing on it, apparently denoting the donors for the plates

Donation plates in Wooden screens in Nga Htat Gyi Paya, Yangon

The meditation space in front of the Buddha was attended by two frolicsome human figures looking rather like Geppetto

Figure in Nga Htat Gyi Paya, Yangon

Behind the seated Buddha were this image portraying a line of followers of the Buddha that began with statuary and then, at the wall, faded into painted portrayals of increasingly indistinct figures

with a mountain circled by a snake lit with lights that were blinking on and off

The back of the second wooden screen behind thwe Buddha was highly decorated at well

This set of figures sat on the side of that area

And there were a pair of naga along the Buddha’s side

There were the usual paintings high up on the surrounding walls that told stories about the lifetime of the Buddha.

although some of them seemed to recount later actions by his followers

      
As at the Schwedagon, there was a monk chanting from a book into a microphone

Monk chanting in Nga Htat Gyi Paya, Yangon

the eerie tone could be heard throughout the temple and, indeed, as we were to learn soon, throughout the surrounding neighborhood.

There were a series of tables set up around the great hall containing boxes or sacks of supplies, including rice but also such things as boxes holding tubes of toothpaste.  I couldn’t figure out the significance of these boxes.

On the way out, we noticed some paintings illustrating the problems that could be occasioned by committing each of the five deadly sins of Buddhism – adultery, stealing, lying, killing, and being intoxicated. The morals were drawn both in the Myanmar language and in English.

Mural depicting sin of lying, Nga Htat Gyi Paya, Yangon

After heading back down the staircase out of the paya, we had to dash across a fast-moving four-lane highway for our visit to our other planned site for the morning, the Chauk Htat Gyi Paya.  Our visit began inauspiciously – there was a spot that was apparently the place for taking off our shoes and socks, but then we were ascending several flights of a very plain looking concrete stairway.

Stairway to Chauk Htat Gyi Paya, Yangon

When we reached the top, we understood why – we could see the BACK of a humongous reclining Buddha.  Apparently, we had come into this temple from the back entrance.

Reclining Buddha in Chauk Htat Gyi Paya, Yangon

From the terraces surrounding the temple building, we could look across to the next hill for a view of Nga Htata Gyi Paya.

View of Nga Htat Gyi Paya from Reclining Buddha in Chauk Htat Gyi Paya, Yangon

We walked around the reclining Buddha to see the front.  It was huge -- 65 meters long, in fact

Reclining Buddha in Chauk Htat Gyi Paya, Yangon

Reclining Buddha in Chauk Htat Gyi Paya, Yangon

Reclining Buddha in Chauk Htat Gyi Paya, Yangon

and then far enough to see his patterned feet

Reclining Buddha in Chauk Htat Gyi Paya, Yangon

with painted toenails

Reclining Buddha in Chauk Htat Gyi Paya, Yangon

The Buddha’s face struck us as unusually feminine

Reclining Buddha in Chauk Htat Gyi Paya, Yangon

The figure was attended at each corner by one of these figures

Here were the bells that worshippers could ring to announce that they had come to make merit

Chauk Htat Gyi Paya, Yangon

There was no chanting here, but the voice of the monk chanting at Nga Htat Gyi Paya on the next hill could be heard loud and clear here.  Across from the front of the Buddha was a series of niches containing Buddha figures carved out of sandalwood. 

Buddha in niche in Chauk Htat Gyi Paya, Yangon

Niches holding sandalwood Buddha figures in Reclining Buddha in Chauk Htat Gyi Paya, Yangon

And up near his head was an octagonal structure containing Buddha figures that appeared to represent the usual eight-day birth corners

Birth corners  in Chauk Htat Gyi Paya, Yangon

Below the figures, I noticed a series of animals, and I had also seen some of the same animals and the birthday corners the day before, and then it struck me that– there must be specific animals for specific birthday corners.  I asked a guide who was talking with a couple of clients and he confirmed this: the Sunday corner is associated with Garuda, for example, and the Wednesday corners with the elephant – Wednesday morning is the elephant with tusks, and Rahu Day the elephant without tusks.

Birth corners  in Chauk Htat Gyi Paya, Yangon

Birth corners  in Chauk Htat Gyi Paya, Yangon

In one niche around the figure, there were two smaller reclining Buddha’s with an altar in between with a sitting Buddha in front of flashing lights

Chauk Htat Gyi Paya, Yangon

This mural seemed to incorporate the various parts of the life-story into a single mural with multiple panes

Mural in Chauk Htat Gyi Paya, Yangon

It was getting toward the time when we had to think about heading back to the hotel, so we retraced our steps back down the hill to catch a taxi.  We had been told coming up that the paya was attached to a large monastery, and we could see what we assumed to be the monastery’s library as we made our way down the stairs.

Monastery adjoining Chauk Htat Gyi Paya, Yangon

As it happened, there was one stopped on the street near where we emerged, so we showed him a piece of paper that the clerk at our hotel has written to ask that we be taken to a Myanmar traditional food restaurant.  The driver was non-plussed by what we were showing him, and he plainly could not speak any English, so he flagged down another driver to help translate and also help figure out where to go.  At this point, Nancy was concerned about whether we really had enough time for lunch before leaving for the airport, so in the end we asked him to take us to our hotel, showing him the card for the hotel.  He still did not know where to go, so he asked the other driver (an older man) for help.  After some exchange, we were ready to take off.  We asked how much the ride would cost us, and the interlocutor spoke to our driver, then told us – this is a 3500 kyat drive, but because our driver does not know just how to get there, and will have to ask directions several times, it will be 5000 kyat.  I wanted to say, well, if the other guy is the one who knows the way, maybe we should go with HIM.  But that, we figured, is not how it works.

SO off we went, and it turned out that the driver was VERY confused – he asked directions several times, and apparently got bad directions repeatedly because he kept turning around and retracing his steps.  It was almost a half hour after we got into the cab before he finally managed to reach our hotel – and then he asked for 7000 because he had had to ask directions so many times.  In the end, we secured the assistance of some of the hotel staff dislodging him from his demand for more than the agreed price – he must have been arguing about this for nearly ten minutes by the time it was done.  But although I was grateful for the assistance of hotel staff in addressing all this, I really have to count drivers’ unfamiliarity of the location – there was one driver whom we asked for a ride back from downtown who looked at the address and sent us on our way – as something of a factor militating against choosing this hotel.  As I have noted before, though, there are a good many factors supporting the hotel as a place to stay.

We headed back to our room, switched some of the materials from my backpack into the suitcases and put things into the backpack had to be in our carry-on luggage, and we were ready to head to the airport.  The driver who had picked us up two days before showed up as agreed, and off we went.  He asked, though, whether we had had lunch; I said no, and asked whether there were any good places serving Myanmar food on the way to the airport.  He said, yes, and besides, he added, you don’t want to eat at the airport anyway because it is so expensive.  There’s a good place near the airport, and I can take you there; and that is what he did.  He took us to a place whose Myanmar name, he said, was Shwe Fa May, which he said would roughly translate as Golden Eat Much.  The place was essentially a cafeteria – I went up to a series of windows at the front of the room in which various curries were sitting in pans;

Shwe Fa May near  Yangon airport

the waitress said, pointing to one set, fish, pointing to another set, chicken, then pork, mutton, prawns and more fish.  I chose a couple and ended up with some whole prawns, in a tasty sauce but somewhat overcooked, and a fishhead, also tasty.  There was rice to go with it, and a plate of leaves of various kinds (mint, kaffir lime, lettuce) and other greens, and  what appears to have been a bottomless bowl of soup with vegetables, and tea.

After I was done with what I had ordered the waitress brought me a few plastic containers containing what I took to be  dessert, including some balls that I thought she called chocolate but turned out to be balls of palm sugar, a small dish containing what looked like fermented tea leaves and a couple of other things, a small bowl containing a red sauce with ice, and then a mixture of dried beans, dried lentils, peanuts and sesame seeds, which I mixed with the sweet balls and a sauce

I mixed the sweet balls with the red sauce and the dried mixture (which I found so pleasant to eat that I ordered more of the mixture to take with me for the future).  All this cost 7000 kyat plus another thousand for the extra mixture, a pretty good price for lunch.  I asked the taxi driver for  the name of the mixture of which I had taken extra; he said it was what goes into tea leaf salad.   In retrospect, my guess is that I should have mixed the tea leaves and other things into the mixed dried stuff.  Oh well.  Then we were off to the airport to catch our plane –  the driver said that the stop for lunch, during which he waited for us, did not increase the price of the ride.
                               
We had plenty of time to catch our plane but we made the mistake of not changing our kyat for dollars before leaving – turned out that NONE of the money exchange places at the Bangkok airport would accept kyat.

We stayed that night at the same airport Novotel where we had stayed upon our initial arrival in Thailand.  For dinner we walked back to the airport through a pedestrian tunnel and ate at the small food court on the ground floor of the airport.  A reasonable dinner for two, including two appetizers two main dishes and two beers, cost us $20.

Then, back to the hotel and to bed.  The first leg of our flight home was to take off at 7 AM, which meant a 5 AM checking.  Happily, breakfast at the Novotel begins at 3 AM to accommodate the many guests with early morning international flights.  The omelet/fried egg station was not manned when we got down for breakfast at about 4 AM, but the rest of it was there.  From the standpoint of our experience over the past three weeks, I have to say that this buffet, although extensive, was not quite as good as at the Krungsri River hotel in Ayutthaya.  Too bad there were OTHER problems there!

Our flight to Tokyo’s Narita airport on ANA was delayed because of a maintenance issue, and we missed our connection by an hour.  As a consequence, we had to stay overnight near the airport.  Happily, ANA had to put us up in an airport hotel; unhappily, our new flight was in the morning, so we were unable to take the bullet train into downtown Tokyo for a whirlwind visit.  Nothing of much interest to report from our stay, except that the toilet had a spray mechanism that allowed it to double as a bidet.

Toilet with bidet attachment in Tobu Hotel, Narita airport hotel