Kingston, NY

Game of Thrones: WHERE WAS THE SNOW GLOBE?

I happen to hate endings and cry when shows are over. I am emotional that way. They render so much final and carve pieces of fantasy in stone and push all the episodes that came before into history. I feel sad because endings indicate that time is moving on, chapters are closed, and more gets stuffed into that place we call memory.

I remember the night the final episode of "The Fugitive" aired. I was depressed for days. I tried to distract myself by watching other shows... but I was a pathetic basket case. I suppose my life was always defined by television: not birthdays or Bar Mitzvahs or weddings or family events or the births of grandchildren. So that makes me either a total loser with no life or some esoteric quirky spirit like Edie Beale who defined her life in unique ways. A turning point in my life was the film "Gidget." I sat in the Argo movie theater in Elmont and watched that movie three times on one bleak Saturday afternoon and hoped I would meet Moondoggie at Capri Beach Club.

I have planned some coping strategies for tonight's traumatic final episode of "Game of Thrones." I will watch past episodes from previous seasons because it is like a form of time traveling. And there they all will be: all the characters in previous episodes looking younger and behaving like they are still living within a version of "Groundhog Day." Dany will be alive, so will Cersei and Jamie. And even Hodor will be alive and well. Ah, the sweet solace of reruns in all their delusional glory.

The "Game of Thrones" final episode to the series is called "The Iron Throne." It is just another episode and nothing special. Final episodes are supposed to knock it out of the park, they are supposed to have a jaw-dropping twist or shock. This final episode was forgettable with nothing special to make it a memorable final episode to an outstanding series.

I wanted the series to end with a fast forward to the future: to see the real George R. R. Martin sitting next to a Christmas tree on a cold snowy December night reading a book called "The Song of Ice and Fire" to his grandchildren. I wanted to see him close the book and say to the children that it was the story of his ancestor Samwell Tarly who lived long long ago in a land called Westeros. And then, fade to black.

I think back to some of the great final episodes. I recall "Six Feet Under" and "The Bob Newhart Show" or "St. Elsewhere," that led viewers to believe the entire series existed in an autistic child's snow globe. Even "Mad Men" ended with a brilliant moment that made the audience think that Don Draper wrote that phenomenal Coca Cola ad with the song "I'd Like to Buy the World a Coke."

But "Game of Thrones" had no "snow-globe" moment and Westeros did not exist in a child's imagination. It was not a dream and Jon Snow did not wake up in a Soviet Gulag and Sansa was not an old woman daydreaming in a nursing home in Brooklyn.

And that is why I believe the final episode of "Game of Thrones" was a fail. Where was the beef? Was that all there is? Where was the "boo" moment?

I think I will watch reruns of "The Twilight Zone." Those episodes are my comfort food. I may even try to contact Billy Mumy and ask him to wish Season 8 of "Game of Thrones" into the cornfield. I mean really: how great would it have been if the final scene was Arya on that ship ripping off a face mask to reveal Rod Serling?

© Marjorie Levine May 20, 2019 2:03 AM EST

That Fog in Tarrytown

the 1976 Portraits

Life is Like a Prescient Car Crash

We all have a death sentence. If we get the right tests and have the recommended procedures... all we really get is a stay of execution.

Life is like a prescient car crash. We can drive along a short road and crash, or we can take a detour and take the longer road... but eventually we will experience the crash. We can even eat candy along the way and have a great ride.

But the ride has to end. There is no choice involved.

"Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you are going to get".... but we do know the inevitable end of the journey.

So I suppose many will postpone that crash for as long as they can. But, the "killjoy" factor is built into the experience and we all have the same end.

And when we go... every single thing we learned and experienced and every memory is lost forever. AND, even if we reincarnate, we have to learn to read all.over.again.

We are like computers... and at the end somebody clears the browsing data.

The Green Book: locations now

a work that is ongoing and in progress...

This is the location where Cook's Tourist Home once stood at 

1736 - 38 Washington Street, Toledo OH. 

The house is now gone but the three steps to safety remain.

Victor Green, 938 St. Nicholas Avenue, New York City

William Smith, 327 Railroad Avenue, Hackensack, NJ

Hotel Theresa 2070-2080 Adam Clayton Powell Jr Blvd., New York City

Sara-Lou Cafe, St. Louis Avenue in St. Louis, MO

The Imperial Hotel, on West Jackson Street in Thomasville, GA

Idlewild Resort

A.G. Gaston Motel, Birmingham, AL

Scranton, PA

Amityville, LI

early 1900s

 

and now

Location Unknown

This is the last page from "The Town and The City," by Jack Kerouac. The novel is a work of fiction so there is no specific location for the content of this final page. However, I ponder the place of the red lights at the big junction... the view of the gas stations and diners. I think perhaps it was in Iowa, the land "where they let the children cry."

"ON A HIGHWAY one rainy night in the summer of that year, by glistering waters of a river in a place not far from the lights of a town, among hills and river-bluffs that were like shadows, a big red truck stopped at the one-light junction. Peter Martin, in his black leather jacket, carrying the old canvas bag in which all his poor needments for a long journey were packed, got down from the truck.

     The driver of the truck, enshrouded in his high cab, sadly called out: "Remember what I told you now. Walk a quarter mile down the road, just follow the river, till you get to the railroad overpass. If it starts raining hard you can wait there. Then you come to the red lights at the big junction, and there you'll see the gas stations and the diners, and there's the main highway that'll take you right in. It goes over the bridge. Got that straight? Good luck to you, man!" He shifted into gear and lumbered off the highway.

     And Peter was alone in the rainy night.
     He was on the road again, traveling the continent westward, going off to further and further years, alone by the waters of life, alone, looking towards the lights of the river's cape, towards tapers burning warmly in the towns, looking down along the shore in remembrance of the deamess of his father and of all life."

The Recordings of A Soldier in the Army During WWII

Andy Warhol— From A to B and Back Again

at The Whitney Museum

"Few American artists are as ever-present and instantly recognizable as Andy Warhol (1928–1987). Through his carefully cultivated persona and willingness to experiment with non-traditional art-making techniques, Warhol understood the growing power of images in contemporary life and helped to expand the role of the artist in society. 
This exhibition—the first Warhol retrospective organized by a U.S. institution since 1989—reconsiders the work of one of the most inventive, influential, and important American artists. Building on a wealth of new materials, research and scholarship that has emerged since the artist’s untimely death in 1987, this exhibition reveals new complexities about the Warhol we think we know, and introduces a Warhol for the 21st century."

Love & Resistance: Stonewall 50

at The NYDailyNews
at The NYPL

"The Stonewall Riots were a flash point in LGBTQ history. After the riots that took place at the Stonewall Inn in June 1969, the LGBTQ civil rights movement went from handfuls of pioneering activists to a national movement mobilizing thousands under the banner of Gay Liberation.

This exhibition illustrates this history through the photographs of Kay Tobin Lahusen and Diana Davies, two pioneering photojournalists, who captured the pivotal events of this era and changed the ways that LGBTQ people perceived themselves. Featured alongside these images are other items from the Library’s vast archival holdings in LGBTQ history, including ephemera, periodicals, and more."

Brenda Starr, Reporter: The Art of Dale Messick

at The Society of Illustrators
"At its peak, Brenda Starr, Reporter was included in 250 newspapers and read by more than 60 million readers. When Starr and her long-time “Mystery Man” boyfriend, whose very survival depended on the serum found in the fictitious but famous black orchid, finally married after 36 years in 1976, President Gerald Ford sent a congratulatory telegram."

This was my letter as it was published in the NYSun on April 12, 2005: 

Dale Messick, R.I.P.

I was sad to read that Dale Messick, the creator of "Brenda Starr, Reporter" passed away ["Dale Messick, 98, Cartoonist, Creator of Brenda Starr," Stephen Miller, Obituaries, April 8, 2005]. I was an avid fan of that comic strip and I followed Brenda Starr's adventures all through the late 1950s, '60s, and early '70s. I can recall characters such as Merrie Rider, Widow Creeper, No-No Night, Hank O'Hair, and Aunt Abretha.

In the early 1990s, I developed a nostalgic interest in the comic strip and I wanted to pinpoint the date of a specific story. I can not recall through which publication I was able to track down Dale Messick. But, I learned she was living in Santa Rosa, Calif., and I was given her telephone number. I called and it was Messick who answered the phone. We spoke for quite some time about many of her colorful story lines, and she also told me that she most enjoyed creating Brenda Starr's glamorous fashions.

At the time we spoke, Ms. Messick was writing for a local senior newsletter and seemed to be enjoying what she called "the delightful weather of Santa Rosa." When I read today that she passed away, I remembered her open and friendly personality. In his obituary, Mr. Miller brought back the memory of Brenda Starr, one exciting heroine. And it seems Dale Merrick had a life filled with great adventures of her own.

MARJORIE LEVINE

Manhattan