Hola Del Cabo


I haven’t been blogging much lately, one reason being eight weeks of an arm cast complete with pins, which were all recently and successfully removed.  And then I got on a plane for Cabo with one goal: enough daily physical therapy to remind my immobilized arm and fingers how to work and play with friends once more.


So far, so good.


So blue and beautiful.


All the news of home we read is extreme: the Polar Vortex, according to the weatherman. and ‘life threatening temperatures.’    One more day of warmth…                                                                        Another reason I haven’t been posting much is that I want to do longer, deeper pieces, but in this environment, there’s nothing more exciting than the temperature, whale sightings, fresh fish, healing, water ten times a day, a little shopping in the charming village of San Jose del Cabo.  Not very eventful, except perched up on this mountaintop in an infinity pool, literally hanging off the edge of Mother Earth’s nether regions in southern Baja, I sometimes imagine the possibility of an earthquake, even a little quiver set off by an innocent sneeze. I don’t stay there long in my mind because it’s a little too relaxing here, but as you read these words, you must know the fragility of life is never forgotten by me.

To Phillip


Phillip Seymour Hoffman: 46

Today is a sad one, a terrible tragedy for a family, a loss for the world of film and theater.  Phillip Seymour Hoffman is no longer in the land of the living.

The news of his untimely death made me ask  what it is that put him at the top of my list of favorite actors.  True, he had a wonderfully rich voice and could transform himself to almost any character with his extreme talent.  But the thing that touched my core was his willingness to be vulnerable, to be ugly, to play the pathetic, vile and cruel, yet with a huge and dignified humanity, to be seen as weak, to be the most tender.  It took great courage to expose that range and depth of feeling, to stand on the edge of an emotional cliff that most people avoid.

On his street late this afternoon, blocked off by police barricades, fans swarmed in tomb like silence.  I brought a bouquet of flesh-colored  tulips to leave at the front of his building, but forlornly carried them home and put them in a vase.  I often saw him in the neighborhood.  Once a big force, he’s left a gaping, palpable hole.  Oh, Phillip, here’s to your big-hearted talent.  May you rest in peace, may your family find comfort.