Duck and Cover

Fair View aplogizes in advance to readers who may be upset by this post. We try very hard not cover upsetting events, but this time it was needed for the reader to understand the author's psyche.

Background from Wikipedia:

The Cuban Missile Crisis was a confrontation during the Cold War between the Soviet Union and the United States regarding the Soviet deployment of nuclear missiles in Cuba. The missiles were ostensibly placed to protect Cuba from further planned attacks by the United States after the failed Bay of Pigs invasion, and were rationalized by the Soviets as equivalent to the U.S. placing deployable nuclear warheads in the United Kingdom, Italy, and most significantly, Turkey. The crisis began on October 16, 1962 when U.S. reconnaissance data revealing Soviet nuclear missile installations on the island were shown to U.S. President John F. Kennedy and ended twelve days later on October 28, 1962, when Soviet premier Nikita Khrushchev announced that the installations would be dismantled. The Cuban Missile Crisis is often regarded as the moment when the Cold War came closest to escalating into a nuclear war. Russians refer to the event as the "Caribbean Crisis," while Cubans refer to it as the "October Crisis."

I remember it clear as if it were yesterday. I was six years old and in first grade when the Cuban Missile Crisis began. At school we were being shown films about how we should “duck and cover” to be ready for when the bombs dropped. I was terrified. I didn’t understand how crouching under my desk and putting my head down was going to save my life when the fireball came through. Certainly, we lived close enough to New York City that that would be the case. I pictured that someday after all us kids were fried, somebody would make a grisly discovery of all these little skeletons crouched under their desks and just shake their heads at the futility of our survival efforts.

See the scared little girl looking up? That is me thinking, "What the fuck am I doing this for when I am fried anyhow?"

I also saw all of the films on how the blast would affect houses.

How could anybody survive that, I wondered?

I went home that day to ask my mom how serious this nuclear crisis was absolutely sure she would tell me there was nothing to worry about. So, there I was in the kitchen, standing in front of the breadbox and I asked her, “Mom, are the Russians going to bomb us?”

She stopped peeling carrots and looked at me. She said, “I don’t know Susie. I hope not.” Then she kind of staggered and her face crinkled with worry lines. I walked away with really big eyes more scared than I dared admit and saying nothing.

That was when my mushroom cloud dreams began. I would dream that somewhere the bomb would drop and a mushroom cloud would form and my whole family and house would be vaporized in the fireball which would rush towards us at the speed of light. My bedroom window faced New York City and I would sleep with my head towards the window, figuring I would die more quickly and never feel a thing.

I would jolt awake from these dreams with my leg muscles in painful spasms and have to work with the muscles to release the cramps. The crisis ended without nuclear war, as we all know. But my dreams continued to plague me well into college.

Friday Fantasy - Fair View's Mr. Brazil 2006

We here at Fair View after carefully screening all of the applicants and have determined that the sexiest Brazilian for 2006 is.... wait for it.... Igor Rosa. So we name him Mr. Brazil for 2006. (And phooey on Miro what's his name with his tattoo butt..)



Congratulations Mr. Rosa. You may ask, "What did I win?" Well, should you decide to come to Fair View to accept your traditional Mountain Laurel Crown you will win:



A grand tour of the Fair View Estates. (I have trouble writing that without laughing or spitting my coffee out of my nose.)



A free dinner at one of our finest local eateries. (Snort, scoff.)



You will meet the specially trained Fair View hounds. (A.k.a. Jenny & Laila.)



And, be mobbed by adoring fan(s). (Well, in any case I will be there.) Plus the event will be immortalized in pictures by a professional photographer. (Providing Sean hasn't left me by then.)

Anyone want to help me whip up the traditional Mountain Laurel Crown?

First Kiss

I really was a lame ass nerd in high school. I thought I was cool, wearing my worn jeans and picturing myself a hippie, but somewhere deep inside I knew I wasn’t. So when this guy from the other high school in town took an interest in me I was really excited about it. His name was Luke. He was six feet tall with brown hair and eyes with a muscular swimmer’s build. He was very smart and used to hang out with all of us teens in front of the local movie theater. Since my mom was a teacher at his high school, the other one in our town, her current and former students used to hang out at our house also. He was one of those too. So, I saw a lot of him. We used to play chess, and pathetic chess player that I am, he used to beat the crap out of me regularly. But, I was accustomed to that, since I was outclassed by everyone in my family and regularly got slammed. But, he did buy me a book on strategies of playing chess which I read. That was after the time of the great 1972 Boris Spassky vs. Bobby Fisher chess match and I remember babysitting with that match on the television and forcing a little baby to watch it by tying him into this baby seat contraption. He never cried; actually he seemed to glaze over at the black and white pieces on the screen. I pictured that someday he would grow up to be a great chess master and everyone would wonder where he got his skills. Anyway, at that time chess was really big.

Ah, the magic time of someone taking an interest in you; you feel so special. I felt terrified and unworthy. But I glowed anyhow. He was taking an interest in me. Why? I had no idea. Why would this attractive young man be interested in me? Oh well, I just went with it. I was smart and cute, maybe that was enough. Then I thought about all of the jerks in my high school; yeah, they didn’t know what they were missing out on. Assholes! Losers! Come to think of it though, I had driven a couple of potential suitors away. There was the really cute guy in Mathletes that asked me to join up with him in a competition, but I steered him to another cute, smart girl and now they were dating. Then there was the really popular guard on the basketball team that intercepted me on my bike outside the high school on the weekend. God, he was a dreamy hunk. I could never imagine he would be interested in me. He got my front wheel between his legs, held my handlebars and asked me where I was going and could we just talk a while. Of course I was terrified and couldn’t wait to get away. But, maybe I misinterpreted that and he just really wanted to get to know me.

Anyhow, there were a whole bunch of us teens that used to hang out. In our usual crew was my twin Evie, Luke and his friends from his school, the other high school in our district, Tammy and Lance. Lance was what we would call a twink today with curly blond hair and an angelic face and followed Luke around like a puppy. Tammy always seemed older looking to me, like she was in her early twenties, and was beautiful and exotic with long black hair. Rumor had it that she and Luke had already dated. But, I had my doubts because she was Jewish and he was Protestant. Where I grew up on Long Island you were either Jewish or Gentile. Jewish people would socialize with us, but we were not good enough to date. But, it was the Jewish person’s call as to whether to date or not. I learned this the hard way. One day in my English class the handsome classmate at the desk in right front of me turned and was chatting to me about an upcoming dance, when the student at the desk to his left whispered to him, “You know, she’s not Jewish.” Well, that ended that conversation lickity split. He just turned right to his front as if nothing had ever happened. I, of course, was heartbroken. Tammy’s mother was also a teacher at her high school. Our little bunch would routinely go to each other’s houses all of which were within walking distance of each other.

Occasionally our group would get split up and one night Luke offered to walk me home from his house. It was a cool and misting early spring night and as we crossed a barren weedy lot, he held my hand to stop me and began kissing the top of my head. I wasn’t really sure what was going on up there, so I just stood still. Then he took his right hand and lifted my chin up so that I was looking at him and he lowered his mouth to mine. Our lips met and it began as an innocent closed kiss at first, but then he opened his mouth and so did I. His tongue entered my mouth and gently explored it. He held me closer. I gave him just a bit of suction and he seemed to like that. He pressed his body against mine and I could feel his erection through his jeans. Then he moved away and asked me if I was okay. I replied that I was and he walked me the rest of the way home his hand around mine. I was really excited because I now had a boyfriend.

Boat Shmoat, We're Going to Paris - Part 6

By the time we made it down to the Seine, which was only about 5 blocks away, the jet lag was really hitting me. I just wanted to sit down and veg out. But where can you do that in Paris? We were admiring the view when Sean had a great idea. Why not take a Bateaux Mouches tour? We would be able to sit and watch Paris go by while listening to the tour.

So we hiked over to Pont de l’Alma, the place where the bateaux depart, and being an early spring afternoon, there was hardly anyone else waiting to board the bateaux. We paid, boarded and since the weather was sunny and warm we sat atop the open bateaux.

In no time at all, the bateaux engines revved up, the water swelled around our bateaux and we were cast off the pier along the Rive Gauche (Left Bank or downstream). It was decidedly pleasant sitting there watching Paris go by. First we passed under the Pont des Invalides and then next was the famous Alexander III Bridge.

Of course, we saw the Napoleon Bridge:

Then we saw the Musee D’Orsay (Orsay Museum)

and off in the distance the L’Eglise Americain (American Church). It was a good thing we were seeing these things from a boat, because I wasn’t sure how much time we would have to visit them during this busy week.

Before you know it, we could see the tip of the Île de la Cité and the Pont Neuf .

King Henry IV

The Île de la Cité is an island that sits in the middle of the Seine and right behind it is the smaller Ile St. Louis. "Notre-Dame" Cathedral is built on the Île de la Cité and that is what we saw next. What a treat it was to see! Note the flying buttresses that were used to hold up the structure of the back of the cathedral and the famed rose window. When I came to Paris as a little girl I attended mass at Notre Dame, but didn’t take communion because I hadn’t fasted. What a silly little girl I was. I should have just taken communion.

We didn't get to see the rose window from inside on this trip, but here it is and isn't it too pretty to miss?

Although we did see some lovers on the banks of the Seine, we did not see what is in this next photo that I have included for your interest. Click to enlarge.

Anyhow, our bateaux rounded the Ile St. Louis, and headed upstream following the Rive Droite (Right Bank). Notably, from here we saw the Louvre Museum.

We relaxed on the way back, past our departure point and onwards to the Eiffel Tower. Last time I was here with my family we took the elevator up and saw the view from the top of the tower. It was really windy and chilly up there, even though it was August. But the view was outstanding and well worth it.

Last but not least, we saw the 35 foot tall replica of the Statue of Liberty.

Then our bateaux turned for the last time and headed for home. We docked, disembarked and bid adieu to the tour. We felt rested enough to continue back to the hotel.

2007 Begins at Fair View - Jenny News

Here at Fairview we have two bird feeders, a thistle seed feeder and a wooden feeder with glass sides that also has two cages to hold suet cakes. Both hang under the eaves of our porch with sweeping views of the cove beneath our house. Only the best for our birds.

Recently we noticed a big fat squirrel raiding the wooden bird feeder and gobbling up all of the seed. He hangs from the roof edge by his rear toes to do this. We usually set the dogs on him and they chase him off in vain, as he makes it to a tree before they even get close. Apparently, Jenny, our Malinois mix, has been getting closer to catching him.

So the other day, when I saw the dratted squirrel on the feeder, I let her out, without thinking she may actually get him and then I went back to unstacking the dishwasher. I was putting the butter knives in the cutlery drawer and glanced out the window and saw Jenny outside with a dead squirrel flopping in her mouth. “Oh shit!” I said, as I rushed to get out the door. I came down the porch steps and she met me at the bottom with the squirrel.

“Good girl Jenny!” I said in my high pitch, reward the doggie voice. “What a good dog! You are such a good dog!” I grabbed her collar and continued gently, “Drop it.” She did, placing it at my feet as if it were a present just for me. “Good girl!” I grabbed the squirrel by the tail and held it up away from the dog. “What a good girl!!!” It was freshly dead, looked like it had a broken back and its head was covered with dirt as if she had played with it a bit. I walked it over to the trash cans and gave it a proper varmint disposal.

Then I ushered Jenny back to the house. “What do good girls get?” This is how we reward our dogs for doing something we like. We take them in and give them cookies. She understands what this means, of course. She was even more excited, as if that was possible, and followed me into the house. Laila was there too. So, I got the dog cookies down and gave them each a handful, Jenny’s slightly bigger than Laila’s. Then I washed my hands thoroughly.

So, that night we had squirrel spaghetti.

Just kidding! All I can say is, we have plenty more squirrels, but they should take heed. We have a bona fide squirrel killer on the premises, so raid our bird seed at your own peril, varmints!

It really is pretty slow here at Fairview. How is your 2007 so far?

Fair View Welcomes a Whopping 3 New Links!

You heard right kiddies! Three, count 'em, three new links!

The first one is Blobby's Blog. Here is Blobby wearing the wool cap, hand knit for him by his beloved Dith. Don't be put off by his menacing look, he's a pussy cat inside. Really.


Speaking of pussy cats, here is his adored kitten, Sophie, playing with wrapping paper on her first Christmas:


Isn't she cute? You must know my theory on bloggers that post photos of their pets by now. They can't be all bad. Anyhow, Blobby leaves unbeatably clever comments all over the blogshpere, maybe you have seen some? His personal blog is witty, worthwhile reading for the same reason. But you better head over there quick, before he quits to become a professional semen washer.

The next two links are the finds of Shaney from his new blog The Pride Place. Oh, by the way, Shaney's new blog is worth a look if only for the graphics that I think are very clever and colorful. So, here we go...

The second link is About a Boy and His Briefs, which I have linked as A Boy. Meet the author, Chris:


Here is his dog Moxie (left) with her doggie roommate Elliot:


Chris is a self described gippie from the midwest, relocated to New York City, who enjoys yoga, hiking, teaching, visiting his adorable niece and doing good deeds. Follow him in his daily life as he deals with everything and shares it with photos and his unique almost poetic view point.

Last, but not least, is Stunning Sexy Guys. The author calls himself GoldeneyeUK, but I have shortened it to Goldeneye on my sidebar. His real name is Ryan. He uses the flag of St. Andrews University in Scotland for his avatar, and get this, this blog is Fair View's first ever in Scotland!!!


The reason I was eager to link with Goldeneye is that his eye candy represented a unique perspective that was different than any I had seen, yet totally hot. At the time he was running some screen shots from the UK version of QAF, which I own but had totally forgotten. If anyone hasn't seen it, it is really worth the rental. The US version, while having its own attributes, really ripped off the plot in the UK one. But one star in the UK version, played by Charlie Hunnam is a rising Brit star in his own right, was totally hot. Look for him in Children of Men with Clive Owen, which opened in NYC on Christmas day. Anyhow, I digress. I thought it would be super to share his blog's perspective with my readers. I contacted Ryan and he agreed to link right away. He was so nice and polite. He has another site, Stunning Sexy Guys X-Rated, but he has a link for it available on his blog.

So, please check out these new sites and HAVE A HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

Friday Fantasy - What was under my Christmas tree

So, I came downstairs Christmas morning and there was this huge box. I mean like big enough for me to fit in big. No, bigger. It didn't even fit under the tree. So I riped off the bow and tore into the wrapping paper and look at what it was! Life size toy dolls!

Photo credit: So Slowly

Holy cow! None of my dolls looked like this when I was a little girl. Santa was really good to me this year. I must have been a very good little girl. Imagine the hours of fun I will have playing with these dolls. No batteries are needed either!

Bookfield, Home Again - Part 2

I felt the drabness of the terminal closing in on me. A solitary passersby eyed me with sinister or maybe just a hungry look. I was scared. Where was Mom? Why was she so late? I could easily rationalize a one hour traffic delay, but now it was coming up on two hours. Images of terrible car accidents came involuntarily to mind. I clenched my teeth for strength and resolve. I had been through a lot this summer; surely I could over come this. I walked to a bank of telephones and put in a quarter. I telephoned my father’s house in Massapequa, collect. When Dad answered, I burst into tears.

“Dad, I’m at the Greyhound terminal in New York. Mom was supposed to meet me two hours ago and she’s not here. Have you heard from her by any chance?” I stammered.

“Calm down honey.” he crooned. I was reassured just by the sound of his voice. “I’m sure she’s okay. Its probably traffic; I’m sure she’ll show up soon. I tell you what, if she isn’t there in another half hour, I’ll come get you.”

“Thanks Dad. I’ll let you know when I get home, or whatever.” I conquered my outburst. I hung up the phone, did an abut face, and returned to the television circle. Another fifteen minutes passed, and I saw her blond hair and colorful jacket. Relief, accompanied by emotion overtook me. I stood up, but she didn’t see me right away. Finally her head turned in my direction. Her face looked at me sternly. I rushed to her with my arms outstretched, “Mom, you’re alright! I was so worried.” She withdrew from my attempted embrace.

“Not now Susie. I was worried too. I’ve been here for over two hours looking for you. You could have been dead, or you didn’t wait where I told you to?” she said in an edgy pissed off voice.

“I’m sorry, but you must have just missed me by some incredible coincidence! I did wait in the circle from time-to-time, and just outside of it over there” I pointed, “because I was scared and there was a transit cop. I didn’t think you could miss me just right there.”

“I don’t want to talk about it right now! I told you to wait there and you did not do what I told you. Let’s get out of this place.”

I insisted on calling Dad back before we left to make sure he didn’t worry, not hearing from me while we drove home.

“I told you she was okay.” he cooed. He was so supportive. Mom had waited impatiently.

“None of this would have happened if you had waited where I told you to!” she admonished again.

We turned to walk towards the exit. I couldn’t wait to get out of the terminal. Meeting my Mom certainly hadn’t gone as planned. I felt my sadness starting to break as I approached the large exit doors and saw that the sun was still shining brightly. The street looked inviting, even though it was Eighth Avenue, a terrible neighborhood. I walked slightly ahead of Mom to open the door for her. This would all pass and the ride home would be more like I had in mind. I sure had a lot of stories to regale her with.

Suddenly, blinding pain seared across my right temple. In a flash, blunt pain moved through my head from one side to the other. My eyeglasses flew off my face, cutting the bridge of my nose. My head pivoted sharply left. She had punched me. I never saw it coming. She had blindsided me with a sucker punch. Tears instantly came to my eyes, and it took me a few moments to recover from the shock and pain. But the physical pain was hardly a match for the emotional pain I immediately felt. I turned and faced her, looking shocked and distraught. There was no remorse in her face, rather this flushed and scary look that had me thinking that the attack might just continue. She looked right at my face with cold clear eyes and witnessed my pain. Still her face was angry and impassive.

“Let’s go.” she said. No one had seen her hit me. It was the first time in public.

I wept openly as I retrieved my bent eyeglasses from the floor, and tried to examine the cut on my nose. I imagined how Sam would have reacted if he had stayed to wait with me (as he had offered). But I didn’t wish he was here to see this. No, I felt totally humiliated. I wouldn’t have wanted anyone I knew to have seen me then. I felt pathetic and ashamed in my humiliated condition. Every scrap of confidence and self worth I had gained during the entire summer was sucked out of me instantly as if a black hole had appeared in my soul the moment she hit me. I was not independent, or even adult. Who was I kidding? I was that small child again crying for mother’s love, and receiving only contempt. Why? Surely I was the most worthless being on Earth. After all, it was my fault; I had not waited where I was told. The hurt was big enough to crowd out any anger, for I felt none. I was empty of any positive feelings about myself. I felt just plain empty. She opened the door and I walked out mechanically. She looked at me again, but didn’t acknowledge anything with her glance. Overwhelmed, my mind went blank. We drove home, not speaking to one another.

I don’t remember how long it took for any spark of rational thinking to reignite again in my brain. But somewhere, on the Long Island Expressway, out from the total darkness of my thoughts came the idea that it was definitely not right for her to punch me.

Nothing I could ever do would make it right for her to do that to me. It was the only thing I could be sure of at the time. I was way too afraid of her to share my thoughts. I watched her as she drove, looking ahead, never at me, as if nothing had happened. That renewed the hurt, and I sobbed quietly. I began to see her attack as another situation, not unlike those on the bookfield that one must survive. I knew that I could never rely on changing her true nature. She could easily try to hit me again at any time. But I made a vow to myself. I would never, ever allow her to lay a hand on me again. I would watch her like a hawk every moment she was near. She would never have an opening like that one, or any undefended opening again. I promised myself. I was the only one who could prevent her attacks. Never would I allow myself to be physically hurt by her again.

I clung to that thought like a drowning person to a life saver, keeping her in view out of the corner of my eyes. I breathed in deeply as if coming up from a great depth, and being starved for air. I muttered under my breath, “never, never, never!” And in that one moment, I was an adult.

THE END