The Writers’ Guild prompt was: “A Memorable Dinner Date,” which I chose to approach in a somewhat different way.
by Sue Wurster
For some, uranium dating marks time. For others, it’s tree rings. For us, it was dinner. Not long after we started dating, Kathy chose to prepare our first home-cooked meal in my ridiculously tiny New York City efficiency apartment.
“So, where are your spices?” she asked me, turning from what constituted the kitchen (a grown-up version of the kid unit) to the den (the desk right behind her).
“Up there on the left above the sink,” I pointed. Where else would they be? I thought. I’ve got all of three cupboards.
“I see salt, pepper, and a jar of Lawry’s,” she returned, “—but no spices.”
From that moment, the cultivation of my Midwestern palate was underway.
Two years later, we took it as tacit endorsement of our relationship when Kathy’s mom Betty added a bowl of sage stuffing to her Thanksgiving fare. (And I thought I’d been subtle about not having developed a taste for her renowned oyster variety.) Kathy’s grandmother Caroline and the New Orleans family retainer Ella had passed their gourmet secrets to Betty who, in turn, gave them to her daughter. Ten years later, after Betty died, Kathy placed her mom’s large, red recipe box on a shelf in our pantry and made her famous brisket and kugel for dinner.
Now, Kathy never actually used recipes, her own or anybody else’s. I, however, follow them religiously, and what I cook ends up coming out just fine. Kathy, though, could read a recipe, toss it aside, and do her own thing—always resulting in something … extra fine.
After Kathy died, I thought I’d try to carry on some of their best traditions myself—not Betty’s oyster stuffing, of course, but her brisket and kugel, for sure. I went to that red box in the pantry and discovered that it contained no recipes at all. On card after card, Betty described her dishes and made notes—hints, reminders, directives. I could actually hear her voice: If you forgot to get shallots, add a little garlic.
The one ingredient our spice rack eventually lacked when it came to home-cooked dinners was time. Not t-h-y-m-e time but, rather, the minutes and hours that gourmet cooking entails. As teacher parents with papers to grade and picky eaters to feed, we ended up resorting to the quick and easy. My gastronome’s array of gourmet cooking paraphernalia gathered dust in the pantry. There never seemed to be enough grown-up time for the espresso machine. Panini press. Crepe maker. Sushi shaping tubes. Or the bread machine. All ended up waiting, as were we, for our picky eaters to develop their more sophisticated palates.
It’s been almost seven years now. About two years ago, Cara pulled out the fancy steamer for her experimental veggie concoctions. And a few months later, after a shopping jaunt in Natick that somehow ended up with her buying yeast, of all things, Dani commandeered the bread machine. Both have dipped into that recipe box to create their own versions of both Grandma Betty and Mommy’s perennial favorites.
From that first dinner in my city shoebox to the last dish of Thanksgiving oyster stuffing, what Kathy gave all of us–every day, in every way–was the very best in true “soul food.” Complete with spices.
This blog has been such a highlight for me at BOLLI, and I hope to see more members choose to write and share thoughts, favorite books/movies/tv shows, local recommendations for restaurants and/or other establishments, memories–or take your camera for a walk and send us the results!
Chocolate (dark chocolate, of course!!), as many of you know, is one of the four basic food groups, along with pizza, bacon, and beer. Some have argued that lobster belongs on this list. I disagree. What makes the lobster so good is the large amount of butter. I could be talked into adding maple syrup.
My 7-year-old granddaughter Lakshmi and I went miniature golfing. Kids love that, especially when they beat Papa; albeit their scoring needs attention. This outing was so successful that I promised to take her to the golf driving range some day and give her a lesson in “hitting them far.”
Kids don’t forget promises.
So, a few days later, we took my clubs (I don’t play golf, I play “at” golf!) and her older sister’s clubs to the range.
We unloaded our clubs and picked out a couple of spots with open mats. She was very interested in this new experience and asked me many questions. Among them, “Who comes here to hit golf balls?” I explained that people come to practice their swings. A few minutes later, she came over to tell me she saw Tiger Woods a few positions down and “he really hits them far.” I responded that “I’m not sure he practices here, but let’s go see.”
We saw some people driving golf balls very well. All genders, races, colors, sizes, shapes; couldn’t tell their religions. It was simply a Norman Rockwell American scene.
She took me over to see Tiger, who she was watching, a good golfer swinging away; however, he was not a black golfer.
Turns out this was the first white Tiger Woods I’ve ever seen.
I merely said, ”Great swing, but I don’t think that’s Tiger.” We continued the lesson I was giving her. She does very well at sports and enjoyed our day, especially since we stopped for ice cream after.
I got to thinking that night about the song from South Pacific that goes “you’ve got to be taught to hate and fear…” She was into golf, a good golfer’s swing, not color.
I wonder if there is hope that she and her generation will change the dynamic and, as they grow up, open our hearts and minds to create a world that is color blind and fully inclusive.
Safe inside our well-constructed home sand surrounded by an amazing network of electronic communication systems, we generally feel protected from those forces of nature that threatened and terrified our forbears. Even when we hear about earthquakes, cyclones, or tidal waves somewhere else, and we feel some level of concern and sympathy, we don’t feel the gut-wrenching fear of those who came before us and knew nature better than we do. But every once in a while, Mother Nature gives us a little nudge to remind us that she is watching us and can, with a gesture, wipe out our secure little nests at any time.
About six weeks ago, I got such a nudge. After leaving BOLLI at noon, I rushed to the golf course to get in a quick nine. The weather was sunny and warm, but there was a chance of some thunderstorm activity in late afternoon. I spent a pleasant two hours strolling the fairways at Nehoiden and then headed home for a nap. By 4:30, I was fast asleep next to an open window, oblivious to the world. I had given no thought to the approach of a violent “micro storm.”
At 5:15, I was startled into consciousness by a soaking wall of water driven through my window by violent wind. I was in bed, facing the window, and as my eyes popped open, I heard an explosion and saw a bright flash of white light surrounded by a red penumbra. It looked like a bomb exploding right outside my window, and there was no interval between the boom and the flash.
The house shook, but since I saw no other damage, and our lights remained on, I rolled over to the dry side of the bed and tried to continue my nap. It didn’t last long. Eileen yelled from downstairs that we had no internet or television service, all our phones were dead, and a message on her cell phone indicated that some isolated areas were experiencing severe micro-storms. I guess we were one of those isolated areas.
Hours later, I learned from a message on my cell phone that the “outage” in our neighborhood lasted for forty minutes, but service had been restored. Many hours after that, at 3:15 a.m., I reached Comcast to let them know that the outage continued at my house. They confirmed that our house had no service and offered to send a technician, but since they had numerous other calls, the earliest available service would be no sooner than Thursday afternoon. For the next two days, our household was barely functional. I couldn’t use the internet or read emails, and I missed the Celtics playoff game. On Thursday evening, after a very responsive young technician worked at our house for almost two hours, we learned from him that our modem, three tv control boxes, and all our telephones had been rendered inoperable. When he returned on Friday morning to replace the modem and control boxes, we discovered that our new 55” smart TV and our Apple Airport router had also been fried. The next day, we began the daunting task of replacing the five telephones, beginning the warrantee process with Costco for our TV, and trying to reconnect all our devices and printers to our home network. The disruption seemed interminable, but after four frustrating weeks we were finally reconnected and back to normal. But we are now much more aware of how subject we are to nature’s whims.
This is a warning to all of you to retain some of that primeval fear you were born with and to respect Mother Nature. She has her eyes on each of us and can hurl devastation upon you before you can blink.
Dennis spent five years as an engineer and then forty as a lawyer–and sixty as a pop culture geek and junkie. He’s been writing blog articles for BOLLI Matters in quite a variety of genres: science fiction, movie and video picks, creative nonfiction, and memoir. And now, he’s even taken on the weather!
This recipe came from The Good Housekeeping Cookbook, and we have been making it since we were married in 1968. A Slo-Cooker is a fine alternative. Buy pieces that are mostly meat, not bone, preferably with lots of speckles of fat. This recipe creates a lot of gravy. That is intentional. I prefer short ribs with noodles; others like potatoes.
3 lbs Short ribs (best if they are marbled)
1 Tbsp Brown Sugar
½ cup Onions, minced
1 Tbsp Worcestershire Sauce
½ cup Catsup
1 tsp Paprika
½ cup Water
1 tsp Mustard (preferably dry)
¼ cup Wine Vinegar
(optional) Braise the ribs briefly, searing the edges to keep the juices in. Drain off fat
Combine onions and all other ingredients and pour over the meat.
Cook at 275° for about 3 hours (or 6 hours on low in the Slo Cooker)
Check with a fork to see if the ribs are ready. The meat should be falling off the bone.
Remove the bones (optional) and refrigerate the meat/gravy until the fat comes to the top and hardens.
Remove fat to use some of it to make roux, and thicken gravy.
To make roux
Melt a few tablespoons of fat
Whisk in 2 tablespoons of flour and cook over medium heat until the flour is totally incorporated and the mixtures turns brown. If you stop too early there will be a floury taste. If you don’t whisk enough there will be lumps.
Slowly add the de-fatted gravy whisking constantly and let it come to a boil, at which point the gravy will be thickened. If you used too much flour and the gravy is too thick just whisk in some water or bullion.
John says that it was his mother who inspired his love of cooking and baking at an early age. (She cooked vegetables in boil-able packages.)
Ah, the call of the open road on a sunny summer day! Nothing is more enticing than the great American road trip. Of course, the ultimate road trip is cross-country but with high gas prices, you may want to think smaller. And if you love the arts, nothing could be better than a road trip to the Berkshires. Museums, music, dance and theater abound during the summer season.
Put the app TodayTix on your phone or tablet to help plan your trip. The app has a Berkshires button which will list multiple weekends and highlight some of the productions you might miss by just looking at Tanglewood, Jacob’s Pillow and Shakespeare and Company websites. Choose your weekend and then scroll through. Not only is TodayTix convenient but it is also a great venue to snag deeply discounted tickets.
That said, don’t miss the chance to see Shakespeare & Company’s production of As You Like It (August 9 to September 2). Performed in the outdoor Roman Garden Theater, you will be transported to the forest of Arden for a magical night. Bring your bug spray and prepare to be enchanted.
Up for a road trip but not too keen about driving? Stroll down Turner St. to the commuter rail, travel to North Station, and grab the Amtrak Downeaster train to Portland ME. This is a bargain at $58 round trip, and the scenery along the way is special. In under 3 hours, you will be in Portland with enough time to enjoy the lobster stew at DiMillo’s on the Water, a boat tour of Casco Bay, and a bit of shopping or bar hopping before catching the train home.
If your bunions are barking or you threw your back out weeding the garden or your old jalopy has 200,000 miles on the odometer or it’s just too darn hot to leave the house, you can take an armchair road trip. Here are a few of my favorites:
The Leisure Seeker, coming soon to rent/buy. Helen Mirren and Donald Sutherland play a couple taking one last road trip in their old RV. A bittersweet comedy meticulously played for laughs, not pathos.
On the Road, available on DVD and Sundance Channel. Based on the Jack Kerouac novel. A young would-be writer encounters some interesting characters during his road trip. The result is a little uneven but captures the spirit of the 1950’s.
Little Miss Sunshine, available on DVD and rental. A delightfully eccentric family hitS the road to enter their little girl in a beauty pageant.
National Lampoon’s Vacation, available on DVD and rental. The Griswalds’ trip to a theme park doesn’t go as planned. Wonderful physical humor by Chevy Chase makes this a classic.
I could go on, but I bet you have your own favorite road trip movies. Share them in comments!
Whatever road trip you choose–be safe, use sun screen, don’t forget to hydrate, and have a wonderful time. Bolli After Dark will be back in August to preview the fall season.
Donna Johns is a teacher/librarian, writer of unpublished romance novels, sometime director of community theater, and new BOLLI member. She now has two fantastic faux knees which set off the metal detectors at Fenway Park.
The year was 1978. Jimmy Carter was President of the United States. The first test tube baby was born. Cult leader Jim Jones told nine hundred members of his church to commit suicide. Girls were playing with Barbie Dolls and Easy Bake Ovens. Boys were playing with the Simon game and hot wheels.
And in his comedic persona of Mork from Ork, Robin Williams exploded on the scene.
In our household, television viewing was reserved for a couple of evening family shows, during which we let Williams, that comic genius, into our home and our lives. He first appeared on the show, Happy Days, and then sequed into the memorable Mork and Mindy.
I enjoyed the show very much, but Williams’ persona puzzled me. This enigmatic soul of comedy poked at my inner places. I needed to look deeper at him. I felt the need to study him. How could he keep up this crazy, oddball act? How could he keep up this raving wildness? I worried about him, which seemed odd to me. For God’s sake. I didn’t know the man personally.
Yet, on some essential level, I did know him. His depression, his mania, his genius was there for anyone to see—anyone, that is, who dared to, anyone who had lived with the same proclivities. I can’t let him go without a tribute to his gifts.
Mork is gone, and so is the planet Ork. So are Peter Pan and Hook.
Gone are the Happy Feet that rocked and zoomed across the frozen tundra.
Gone is The Fisher King whose craziness bore pins into our eyes and icy shards thick from the frozen wasteland into our hearts.
Gone is Mrs. Doubtfire who absorbed a child’s tears in her vast bosom. Gone is the booming voice that awakened Vietnam and promised relief from travails. Gone is Patch Adams restoring rosy cheeks to ashen children whose souls would soon be winging their way to heaven.
Gone is Jacob the Liar who gave solace, grace, and laughter to a tiny girl destined for the Nazi ovens.
Gone are those eyes of bottomless sadness, the depth of the deepest desert sands.
What’s left is a man whose own soul cried while he gave sustenance to millions with insane laughter and fathomless tears.
What’s left are our memories and yearnings to restore to his heart and soul that which he gave to ours.
What’s left is the knowledge that his pain couldn’t be healed.
What’s left is his profound imagination and creativity, someone who brought his emotions to soaring heights and allowed us unbridled laughter and play in Humor and Pathos.
Elaine considers reading her passion and inspiration. Writing is her muse, the creative influence in her Being. Her family is her All.
Soon after we got married, I started making an Angel Food Cake. After it cooked and partially cooled, I made Orange Jello, poked holes into the cake and poured it in. After some experimentation, I found that a similar strategy worked well with chocolate pudding, and I varied the type of cake. Sometimes I baked the cakes from scratch, and sometimes I used the stuff from boxes. Back in the ‘70s, the boxed cakes weren’t very good, but they tend to be quite good today. Frequently, these cakes call for frosting, but with the pudding, that seems too sweet to me.
This recipe calls for a very thick frosting. I halved the original as it is perfectly adequate. Feel free to double the frosting recipe if you like it thick and calorific.
1 chocolate fudge cake, prepared and baked in a 9×13 inch pan.
1 can sweetened condensed milk
¼ cup heavy cream
1 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips
¾ cups butter, softened to room temperature
¼ cup cocoa
1½ cups powdered sugar
½ cup heavy cream
½ teaspoon vanilla
¼ teaspoon salt
Bake cake as directed on box.
While the cake is baking, add sweetened condensed milk, heavy cream, and chocolate chips to a medium sauce pan and cook, stirring, on medium heat until the chips are melted and the filling is smooth.
When the cake comes out from the oven, using the end of a wooden spoon, poke holes into the cake to create deep pockets for the filling to go into.
Pour filling evenly over warm cake.
Cool cake completely before frosting.
In a large mixing bowl, combine butter, cocoa, powdered sugar and beat on low until combined.
Add heavy cream, vanilla, and salt. Beat until creamy and smooth.
Frost cake and refrigerate until ready to serve.
John says that it was his mother who inspired his love of cooking and baking at an early age. (She cooked vegetables in boil-able packages.)
At BOLLI’s recent conference on creative retirement, representatives from the MAZIE Foundation were on hand to talk about their outstanding mentorship program. Our own Bob Keller has been working with MAZIE students for some time and hopes that his experience will inspire other BOLLI members to volunteer–this past term, he says, four students had to be turned away because they just didn’t have enough mentors.
BOB KELLER: VOLUNTEER EXTRAORDINARE
“I have been interested in social justice and community issues for a long time,” says Bob Keller. This was handed down to me by my parents, both of whom gave a lot to their communities. While I was a CFO of a couple of companies from 1977 to 1995, I also did community work. I coached soccer for my kid’s teams, and when the director of the All Newton Music School died suddenly and the program was in a tumultuous period, I stepped on board as Treasurer and tried to help.” His stepping in to help certainly did not stop there.
In 1987, along with two of his close college friends, Bob started a non-profit group, Mobile Diagnostic Services, which worked out of Leonard Morse Hospital in Natick. All three of us did this outside our regular jobs. Mobile Diagnostic Services was the only mobile mammography van in Massachusetts, doing about 4,000 mammography exams per year. “It was a tough business,” he says, “but we provided a critical service and saved lives.” The three volunteers managed the business and interpreted 4,000 mammography exams. Bob raised the funds to keep the program going. In 2003, the group turned their vans over to Dana Farber—no one else has been able to successfully operate mobile mammography in this state.
Bob’s interests have ranged from Mobile Diagnostic Services to the Dudley Street Neighborhood Initiative where he served as fundraising director for this community organizing non-profit in a primarily Cape Verdean Roxbury community from 1997-2000. After retiring in 2004, he was a Board member at the All Newton Music School and as Board President started their capital campaign in 2005 to renovate the building (the renovation finally completed in 2017), and tutored MCAS math prep in Boston’s public high schools for 8 years under the auspices of “Partners in Education.” For the past 15 years, Bob has also been a Board member of the Commonwealth Chorale (formerly the Newton Choral Society). He and his wife Barbara have been singing with the Chorale for the past 41 years. “I’ve also been an SGL at BOLLI a few times, leading an Introduction to Choral Music course.And to top it all off, he is also a member of the Weston Library music committee.
But for Bob, what seems to be the volunteer experience he has found to be the most meaningful is his work with at-risk students at both Framingham and Waltham High Schools through the Mazie Foundation.
Founded in 1998, the mission of the John Andrew Mazie Memorial Foundation is “to enable at-risk high school students to become adults of promise through goals-based mentoring.” The Foundation’s Mazie Mentoring Program, which has been operating at Framingham High since 1998 and at Waltham High School since 2010, helps aspiring students “set and achieve goals, graduate from high school, prepare to apply to college or other post-secondary training, and experience success.”
Each Mazie mentor provides a student with:
* personal, social, emotional, and educational support through high school;
* information, support, and skills for vital success in the workplace;
* advocacy and exposure in the areas of cultural, social, educational, and personal development;
* a role model, friend, and advisor with whom to explore all the riches of life and the world around them.
The mentoring commitment begins about half way through a student’s sophomore year and ends at high school graduation. Mentors are asked to meet with their mentees for an average of eight hours per month.
Over a period of seven years, Bob has mentored three at-risk students from Framingham and Waltham. Bob also became Board President in 2012 and has been leading a “managing Board” since Lowell Mazie, the CEO, founder and creator of the mentoring program, died in January 2016.
Bob describes how the program begins:
“Mentors and mentees are matched up at a Mazie gathering that takes place on a Saturday afternoon in October or March. After your mentee is identified, you play a few get-to-know-you games, and a two and one half year relationship begins. It’s awkward at first. In my case, I was about 60 years older than my first mentee—old enough to be his grandfather. I could feel the thought running through his head—how can I relate to this old white guy from the suburbs?”
That first mentee, Danny, was born in the U.S., but both of his parents came from the Dominican Republic. They spoke little English and understood little about American high school life or the college process. “Danny was captain of the football team and liked to appear macho,” Bob says. “It took a while to find the Danny that I grew to be very fond of—which seems to have started about three months in. When we were driving somewhere, Danny turned on a rap station and cranked up the volume very loud. Now, I don’t like rap or loud music, but I thought for a minute before saying: ‘Danny, you can pick the station, and then I get to adjust the volume.’ He pondered and then agreed. In some way, this broke the ice, and we started to trust each other.”
For the next year and a half, Bob helped Danny with his school work, his federal financial aid forms for college grants and loans, and his college applications. They visited U. Conn. in Storrs and, eventually, Dean College in Franklin where he was accepted and enrolled. It didn’t take him long, though, to learn that an expensive private college can end up limiting options rather than expanding them. So, he got a job waiting tables and working in the kitchen at a Hyatt Hotel and then after 8 years graduated with a BA from Framingham State. “His graduation in 2014 was an emotional day—for both of us,” Bob says. “I was so proud of him.”
Bob says he has sometimes wondered if his second mentee, Brandon, needed the program at all. He received every award that Maisie gives, including a laptop at the end of junior year. “When he graduated, I gave him my old bike which he used to get to Market Basket where he worked during his college years at Mass Bay Community College.”
“My latest mentee, Smaido, arrived in Waltham after the earthquake that killed over 160,000 people in Haiti. He has not seen his father since 2010 when left the island with his mother and younger brother. He spoke no English when he arrived. We met three years later, in February of 2013, when he was a sophomore at Waltham High School. Because Smaido attended church with his mother and brother every Sunday, we always got together on Saturdays.”
The two spent one of their first Saturdays visiting the deCordova Museum in Lincoln. Smaido had never been to a museum before, and he liked the structures in the sculpture garden. He didn’t much care for the modern art inside. They went to a street fair in Waltham Center in late April that year. While Smaido was interested from a distance, he did not get out of the car to participate—his caring mother had told him, after the Marathon bombing just a week or two earlier, to avoid crowds.
During Smaido’s junior year, “I got some orange cones from the local highway department and started teaching him to drive at an empty school parking lot near his apartment in Waltham. It was probably not acceptable as a mentoring activity, and it might even have been illegal,” Bob grins, “but it went a long way to helping him become more confident and outgoing. Parallel parking was the final exam I gave him”
Smaido worked hard in school, was named “Student of the Month” at Waltham High in November of his senior year where he took a very full load of six tough courses—physics, chemistry, pre-calculus, Spanish, English, and accounting. He also worked at an assisted living facility near his apartment. His guidance counselor and I both tried to convince him to reduce his load, but he stuck with it. He is determined to be a civil engineer. Bob arranged for a summer internship at a civil engineering firm in Waltham, between junior and senior high school years.
Eventually, Smaido was accepted at a small private school in New Hampshire and was wait-listed at Merrimac College that has a fine civil engineering program. Of course, we talked about going to a community college for two years and then transferring to a U. Mass campus. The tuition, of course, would be much lower than at Merrimac, a private school. “But once we visited Merrimac together, there was no turning back. He said he’ll pay back his loans when he becomes a civil engineer.”
Smaido is beginning his junior year at Merrimac. “He is far more confident than the shy young man I met in 2013, and I expect to be at his graduation in 2019,” Bob says. “His story is amazing.”
But, then, so is Bob’s.
After working on a merger possibility for over a year, Bob’s board was happy to announce on July 1 2017 that Big Brothers/Big Sisters of Central Mass/Metrowest will combine with the Mazie Foundation. BBBSCM Board Chair, Chris Lucas of Upton, comments that: “Both organizations share a fundamental belief in the amazing power that strong, positive mentoring can have in a young person’s life to change the path of possibilities of who and what they can become. Combining the Mazie Foundation with BBBSCM is a force multiplier where one plus one equals ten.”
Mining Marilyn Brooks’ popular blog, Marilyn’s Mystery Reads, for some of her past reviews yielded another gem: Lindsay Davis. As a longtime fan of novels taking place in ancient Greece and Rome, I was, for some time, very much caught up by Davis’ host of mysteries featuring “detective” Marcus Didius Falco (of which there are 20). Davis’ books are well-written, featuring inventive situations, engaging characters, and good, solid suspense. Somehow, though, I missed the fact that she eventually provided Falco and wife Helena Justina with an adoptive daughter who is carrying on in the family tradition–so glad to have a new “old” favorite to follow. She reviewed this one in March of 2014.
THE IDES OF APRIL – by Lindsey Davis
A Review by Marilyn Brooks
“The glory that was Greece, and the grandeur that was Rome” are the lines that Edgar Allan Poe wrote in 1845. There is grandeur in Lindsey Davis’ The Ides of April, and there are also appealing characters, great writing, and a terrific plot.
Flavia Albia, the heroine of the story, is a private informer, what today we would call a private eye. She is the adopted daughter of the well-known Roman informer Marcus Didius Falco. Abandoned as an infant, Flavia knows nothing of her biological family. Marcus and his wife Helena Justina found her wandering the streets of Londinium, Britannia, and brought her to civilization, to Rome. Flavia is now twenty-nine, a full Roman citizen, a widow, and following in her father’s business.
What brings Flavia into the case at the center of the book is the tragic death of a three-year-old boy who was run over by a builder’s cart. Flavia is hired by the owner of the building company to thwart the boy’s mother’s demand for compensatory payment. Although unsympathetic to the owner Salvidia, a female informer can’t be too choosy when it comes to jobs, so Flavia takes the case.
After doing so, she reads a notice asking any witnesses to the accident to come forward. Intrigued, Flavia goes to the Temple of Ceres, the headquarters of Manlius Faustus, the aedile (magistrate) for this area of Rome, to get more information. Not having any luck at the Temple, she goes to his office where she meets Andronicus, the aedile’s clerk, and sexual sparks fly between them. Andronicus tells her the aedile won’t assist her, but he lets her know that he’ll keep his eyes open to try to help.
Not having gained any insight into the case and disliking her client more and more, Flavia returns to the construction company to tell Salvidia that she is quitting. When she gets there, she is told by the woman’s servant that Salvidia is dead, having come home from the market, gone to bed, and then stopped breathing. Looking at the corpse, the only unusual thing the informer can see is a slight scratch on one of her arms, certainly nothing to cause death.
At Salvidia’s funeral the next day, Flavia meets the deceased’s neighbor, an elderly woman who concludes their conversation by saying, “You do what you can for her, dearie,” a statement Flavia interprets as the neighbor thinking that Savlidia died under suspicious circumstances. And the following day, the neighbor is dead.
The writing in The Ides of April is excellent, always told in Flavia’s voice. She can be empathic, as when she meets the family of another possible murder victim. “Lupus the oyster-shucker would not easily be forgotten; I thought never,” she says to herself as she sees the family’s grief. She can also be wry. “…and (the man) could only come if his son was not using the false leg that day. Assume I’m joking, if that comforts you.”
The Ides of April is the first in the Flavia Albia series. The Marcus Falco series by this author is twenty novels long, and I’m hoping for at least that many for Flavia. She’s a delight. Hopefully, she’ll keep poking her nose into Rome’s secrets.
You can read more about Lindsey Davis at this web site.
Check out the complete Marilyn’s Mystery Reads blog at her web site
I’ve always been a reader and, starting with Nancy Drew (my favorite, of course), I became a mystery fan. I think I find mysteries so satisfying because there’s a definite plot to follow, a storyline that has to make sense to be successful. And, of course, there’s always the fun of trying to guess the ending. My blog, published every Saturday, can be found at www.marilynsmysteryreads.com.
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