Grey Gardens: A Cautionary Tale

Can it get any better than Edie Beale, the former junior miss of the decaying family manor, "Grey Gardens" in the Hamptons? I don't think so. When I first saw the documentary "Grey Gardens" a few years ago much of it was lost on me or maybe I wasn't in the mood. Sure, it was wacky and I can guarantee would have been a blast to see with some gay friends back in the day of Boston area film fests, but thanks to the DVD one can now see it at home. Perhaps that effect is lost on the average viewer but see it with some friends, in this case some close girlfriends of mine, and the perceptions change.

What becomes clearer on repeat viewings is the glimmer of profound awakening that Little Edie can have in the apparent mess and madness. She is 56 when the Mayles brothers come to their home in the mid 1970s to film their documentary (originally they were planning to do a film on the childnood of Jackie Bouvier Kennedy Onassis and her sister Lee Radziwill but the Beales, Big and Little Edie--aunt and cousin respectively--proved far more interesting). A once stunning beauty, she has become weathered and somehow off, particularly in the oddly stylish outfits she puts together for herself. [No fashion victim, Little Edie would seem to transcend couture with her sweaters tied over her head and assemblage of old cocktail dresses, coats and once stylish clothing.]

When we meet her she has been living back at Grey Gardens with her mother for over 20 years and her reasons for returning are never made clear: did she have a breakdown? Did her mother? Was it for financial reasons? The film, in its non-contrived approach at filming the Beales as they are, does not fill in any blanks so there are more questions unanswered. There is a constant undercurrent of dysfunction and the push and pull of a mother-daughter relationship that never quite matured. Big Edie won't shut up or let her daughter speak: she both talks and sings over her. No wonder Little Edie seems a bit nuts. Who wouldn't be? [And any mother of a daughter--or daughter of a mother--might recognize how easily this kind of delicate and complex relationship could teeter into a strained dance of ego and madness.]

Meanwhile, racoons have infested their home, in part by their feeding them in the attic, cats rule the house, and Big Edie holds court in a small back bedroom filled with cats, trash, clutter and a sterno heater. Groceries are delivered and it is difficult to know what food is for the animals and what is for the women. Big Edie's debutante portrait in oil, propped against her bedroom wall, provides a handy hiding place for a cat to do his business. When Little Edie goes to her own bedroom or out on the porch, her mother can't stand that she might be saying something on her own or without her. Edie's own voice emerges when she leaves the house and dances on the porch or sunbathes--otherwise, her mother won't let her talk.

Perhaps the saddest part of the film is the mother and daughter's codependency with each other and their past. Early in the film, Little Edie says: "It's very difficult to keep the line between the past and the present. You know what I mean? It's awfully difficult." Their house, aptly named 'Grey Gardens', has deteriorated into a kind of gothic allegory from the mind of Nathaniel Hawthorne. They cling to the memories of former glories and "Mr. Beale", Little Edie's father who apparently left her mother when she took to singing in nightclubs. The black and white photos of the two women in their prime and amidst the trappings of a wealthy society from the earlier part of the century say it all: we were once beautiful and privileged and sane. Even though the house seems to have been cleared of most furnishings, the Beales don't seem to see or care about the dust and squalor still around them. Their dysfunction seems oddly functional in their own universe but compare it to the one beyond their overgrown hedges and wild landscape--a seeming barrier against the world--and insanity and sorrow creep in. [A birthday party for Big Edie also reveals this paradox.]

It isn't hard to root for Little Edie (you know it will soon be curtains for her mother and that all hope has passed for her recovery) or hoping she would be somehow rescued from her mother, her house, and her apparent fate. The film, ironically, provided her shot at glory and escape until she died in her mid-80s a few years ago at her Florida apartment. When she swims in the nearby ocean you sense it is her only opportunity for freedom. With the regular breaking into old songs that Big and Little Edie do--including Little Edie's playing some of her mother's old recordings--it is easy to see why "Grey Gardens" became a natural choice for a Broadway musical.

In my own battle with an old family house full of the stuff of generations (that in many ways has become a burden to us), past memories and associations, and lots of clutter from myself and the many "ghosts" who still dwell here (and an office desk piled high to the rafters), I especially like this quip: "I'm extremely organized. I know exactly where to look for this stuff. I've got it under control right here, but I can't find it. Get it?" To anyone who is inately cluttered or bogged by anything, this will make perfect sense.

Still Here

In case anyone is still reading out there in blogger land, I'm still here. This is the longest I've gone without blogging and that is partially self-imposed, partially circumstantial. Life sometimes happens, doesn't it?

I have a lot to say and wanting to write again, so I will be doing that soon.

The Anti-Art of Blogging

I have night owl tendencies, even though my middle aged body is fighting against this well-worn habit. So several times a week I will watch late night television: the house is quiet, I am relaxed and in need of a good laugh, and I have sole rights to the clicker. [If I could turn this whole routine on its head, wake up in the morning at dawn, meditate for an hour, then get on the treadmill while doing the laundry--followed by a nice hot breakfast on the table at 7:30-- I would, but that would be like going against gravity. Besides, my husband would think I'd been replaced by a mutant from another planet.]

Sometimes if there is a boring guest or lull on Letterman, I will turn to Charlie Rose on PBS. The other night I happened to catch Nora Ephron talking about blogging. It sums up what my editor, Patty Poore, at OLD-HOUSE INTERIORS was trying to convey to me a few weeks ago, when I was rewriting her merging of three of my blog entries from "In the Pantry". She thought I'd edited out all of the immediacy of my blogging and she was right. [The "Musings" essay, "The Empty House", will appear on the back page of the upcoming fall/winter issue of EARLY HOMES, a newsstand publication by OHI.]

Because of the wonders of TEVO, I was able to rewind and pause until I jotted down this transcription:

CHARLIE ROSE:

Is there a secret to that (blogging)?

NORA EPHRON:

Blogs are different. Blogs are almost like a soap bubble. They're what you think at the very moment you're writing it.

CR:

So the thing to do is sit down and write and whatever comes to your head, do it.

NE:

Sit down and write and write it fast and if you've been working on it for more than an hour and a half, it's not a blog. It's something else.

CR:

It's an essay!

NE:

Well, I don't know what it is, but you've taken too long on it, because it should really feel as if its true at that moment, and then not much longer than that.

[I'm also with her on the turtleneck concept of hiding the middle-aged neck!]

Harvest Home

Thanksgiving has easily become my favorite holiday. There isn't the tussle and bussle and odd let down of the Christmas season, which seems to conjure up so much in its advent and wake. As another school parent I spoke with the other day said, "Thanksgiving is the last holiday that 'they' haven't commercialized." [If only Christmas were the same.]


THE BOYS LOVE TO HELP DECORATE and
PUT ON THEIR BEST CLOTHES (really!)


THE TABLE IS SET WITH CHAIRS FROM
ALL OVER THE HOUSE and OUR FAVORITE DISHES

Temple and I have had twelve Thanksgivings together, all but two in this house. They have each been different with a variety of friends and family, our children as they have arrived, and sometimes our parents, but always something resonates: food, fun, fellowship and celebration. I like to mix a formal, decorative table with campy decor (Beistle's turkey place cards are the best!) and seasonal treasures the children have made. The kids enjoy setting up the Indian and Pilgrim village each year with some original Indian toys made in northern Michigan that I got in the 1960s, as well as contributions they have made.


EACH CHILD CONTRIBUTES TO THE MANTEL ~
A MIX OF CRAFTS, SEASONAL & VINTAGE ITEMS



We did most of the table setting and much preparation in the two days before. However, the night before, at about 4:45pm, Temple shouted up the stairs, "we have ten minutes to get the pies that you ordered!"

"I didn't order any pies!"

"Yes you did, from Tenney Farms!"

And then I remembered on the way: I had a visual of checking off a number of varieties on a white sheet on a clipboard at the farmstand several weeks before. But in checking it off there, I had forgotten about it here. I rarely have time for making desserts--fortunately everyone brought one--and homemade pies sold at Tenney Farm are an excellent alternative (besides, it was the last day of the season and we wanted to throw a few in the freezer).

After the turkey went in the oven at around 8:30am (a 28 pounder), for which I came down to prepare the stuffing at 7:15, we had the entire morning to finish decorating, to organize serving dishes, the table, and everything. The entire family pitches in--especially my husband--and it makes it almost effortless but worth every bit of preparation.


THE EASIEST CENTERPIECE EVER ~ YOU DON'T NEED A FLORIST

I have never been able to arrange flowers very well and usually loathe the idea of buying a floral arrangement for a table. I've always managed to do different decorations at Thanksgiving, especially, when there are so many easy alternatives to flowers: cornucopias filled with Indian corn, a pile of squash, a Beistle turkey. This year, I had a cornhusk wreath from a while ago, plopped the pumpkin inside of it, and tossed around some gourds (painted with shellac) from our local farmstand, Tenny Farms. Oh, and I threw in some of those chestnut crabapples, too. In less than three minutes I had a centerpiece.

On our first Thanksgiving together, one of our older more traditional friends (who also liked to get a rise out of me) couldn't believe I had not ordered a table arrangement. The following year my father, perhaps trying to avoid another embarrassing moment (which I laughed off as it wasn't an issue for me at all), had an arrangement sent. It was lovely and it graced our table, but I far prefer grabbing my favorite pumpkins, gourds or corn.




THE GROUP AT TABLE ~ WITH APOLOGIES TO AUNT CYNTHIA WHOSE FACE IS NOT IN THE PHOTO

As I've found with many of our large get-togethers, 13 is a lucky number (our youngest Eli and his dad sat together at the far end of the table, which was stretched to full capacity). For the second year in a row we had a buffet for both the main meal and the dessert. With the "groaning board" of so many dishes, and a tight dining room (even the table was put at a diagonal to accommodate for all of the leaves), it works the best. It allowed for a cozy informality that I prefer, but paired with an elegant table to sit at, contributed the best of both.



Food is always a mix of traditional items and special contributions from our friends. Here is our 2006 menu:

~ Fresh turkey & gravy w/sausage, apple & cranberry dressing (I also added chestnuts this year)
~ Mashed potatoes (my husband peeled & prepared a great vat)
~ Butternut Squash (ditto)
~ Little Peas (ok, Petit Pois)
~ Creamed Onions (from Judy ~ freshly cooked onions, not frozen!)
~ Succotash (Rosemary ~ truly the most divine ever, and no lima beans!)
~ Cranberry Relish (made by Henry & Eli)
~ Cranberry Jalapeno Relish (from the Bills ~ sublime)
~ Canberry (the canned stuff)
~ Heirloom Applesauce (Henry, Eli, Addie et al)
~ Chestnut Crabapple Jam (ditto)
~ Parkerhouse Rolls (thank you, bread machine)

~ Pumpkin Bread (Mrs. Hrones' recipe, an older friend of the family that I knew as a child)
~ Apple Pie (from Henry, who made it at school ~ we ate Eli's for my birthday)
~ Cranberry Tart (Judy)
~ Upsidedown Cranberry Cake (Rosemary)
~ Pumpkin Pie w/Bourbon (Rosemary)
~ Pumpkin Cheesecake (also with a bourbon infusion! The Bills)

and the absolute "living end": Le Fromage du Turquie, a turkey cheeseball conceived and crafted by Rosemary!



Rosemary, one of the best cooks I've ever met (come to think of it, most of my good friends can cook), always has a great presentation in everything she does (and her kitchen will be in the March 2007 issue of OLD-HOUSE INTERIORS, and her pantries in THE PANTRY book). Her concept of a turkey-shaped cheese log was the perfect addition to the meal: homemade and shaped by hand, she even made the little white thingies on the ends of its legs.


JUDY CARVED THE TURKEY FOR THE SECOND YEAR IN A ROW WITH ARTFUL FINESSE, WITH HELP FROM HENRY



My husband, who hates to carve the turkey, looked around in a near panic for a volunteer. We had forgotten that Judy had done such an expert job of it last year--not only cutting up the bird in a surgical way (observed Dr. Bill Siroty, one of our guests), but layering the meat on a platter between layers of skin and fresh sage. The skin not only keeps the turkey meat warm but infuses it with a delicious flavor. [And she looks cute in that Amish-made apron.]



Meanwhile, Dr. Bill stirred the gravy and it was the first I'd made without lumps in a long time (either it was shaking the flour in water in a jar first, or his excellent stirring). His kitchen presence brought back memories of working at Barrett House many years ago in the early 1990s when they first moved here from New York. His partner, also Bill (Stelling), was the tour guide at Barrett and helped in the tea room on Sunday afternoons. Meanwhile, Dr. Bill could frequently be found in the kitchen washing dishes, as well as my husband-to-be, Temple.


COUNTRY FARE DEMITASSE CUPS by ZANESVILLE POTTERY ARE PERFECT FOR MULLED CIDER


THE KITCHEN ISLAND IS ALWAYS A GREAT PLACE FOR A BUFFET


ELI ENJOYED ARRANGING THE TURKEYS ON THE KITCHEN TABLE AFTER DINNER


LOVELY PARTING GIFT BASKETS

This year we had a silent prayer at the table. Temple and I later remembered our fathers who were no longer with us, and other family members, too. We were a group with diverse interests and much to laugh and talk about (and we all toasted the recent elections). We were so honored that some of our friends could gather here with us this year. I'm bound to forget a future pie order, but I will remember this always.

Beta Blogging in a Google World

Ok, I signed on tonight to wax poetic about Thanksgiving and discover that I had to join the Google network which has somehow consumed blogger.com. I don't keep up with these things and I still don't even know what "beta" means (on computers, videos or anything) but I will assume that this is a good change. I do use Google on a daily basis for a variety of queries, even to research available research. But I ask, is Google taking over the world? Maybe we should do everything in the future with Google mergers: grocery shopping, college applications, carpooling. I'm all for that! But there is something unnerving about being somehow consumed by an unseen entity, a limitless void of Google. Does this mean I've been Googled?