Okay team get ready. Frank and I are heading out tomorrow for a few days in Jamaica. If you don’t want to hear about our days in the sun, drinking and snorkeling and relaxing, then be prepared to look away, change your feed settings, or hit delete.

Here’s a reminder of last year’s obnoxiousness:

This year has had quite an interesting beginning.  Right after it arrived, I had to jet off to San Francisco for a (long planned) business trip to the ASSA meetings.  We are recruiting for a new economist and this was the first time I had participated in the job market since I was looking for a job.  20 years ago. In San Francisco.  Weird.  I was expecting to have PTSD flashbacks but instead I wound up with strep throat.  Flew home on a Tuesday afternoon, spent all Tuesday night in urgent care getting antibiotics.  Left Thursday for a (hastily planned) business trip to Paris with Frank in tow.  Had a great few days of sight seeing before the meetings at the OECD then home.  Apparently with a stomach bug.  I thought maybe my digestion issues were due to travel and antibiotics but even after both were done, things were not well.

So instead of enjoying a lovely night out at the Bank’s Winter Celebration on Saturday night, I was curled up on the couch for most of the day with pains in my stomach (and accompanying gastrointestinal issues that I leave to your imagination) and pain in my heart for the two football games that did not end as I would have liked. Sunday dawned cold and snowy.  The stomach felt a bit better but I was petrified to eat anything in case that changed.  I made it through church and the annual meeting and then tried to figure out what I trusted myself to eat.

Soup.  My mother-in-law’s lentil soup.  So comforting.  Plain enough to not upset the stomach but tasty enough to satisfy the soul.  Family recipes are like that – my kids always want one of our family classics when they come to visit.  And most of them are courtesy of a woman I have never met:  Betty Cumberland.

My mom was apparently not well equipped to be a housewife in the 60’s when she married my dad:  she couldn’t cook.  At least that what she claimed.  Her first neighbor in the new apartment after she and my dad married was a woman named Betty Cumberland.  My mom insisted that just about everything she learned about cooking she learned from Betty.  Most of what we consider our family recipes were “Betty Cumberland recipes” – ones that were some of the first things my mother as a new bride learned to cook thanks to her next door neighbor.  Most are the epitome of comfort food: stew, beef burgundy, chicken pot pie, etc.  Of course, they have evolved over the years and even I don’t make them exactly as my mom did.  And we have added other recipes from Frank’s side of the family: lentil soup, steak pie, etc. Now we have a lovely collection of Cannon Classics that Jesse insists she will someday compile into a cookbook.

But for this weekend, I took comfort in Betty Cumberland’s beef stew and the fact that not even my stomach bug could fight the comfort that the food – and the memories – provided.

Thank you Betty Cumberland wherever you are – you made a great contribution to my family (and my recovery) and for that I am grateful.

It’s amazing how fast time flies when you have lots to do and little time to do it.  Saturday started with us oversleeping for our 9am meet up time.  We had gone to bed at 9:30 the night before so there was no point in setting an alarm, right?  Oops.  But the day just got better and better, as did the rest of the weekend.  A big breakfast at a local cafe (I need the full egg breakfast because coffee and croissants don’t cut it for me) and we were off.  Well, that makes it sound energetic.  It turns out we spent nearly two hours at breakfast chatting over coffee and our oefs and jamon which was just enough time for the sky to clear and the sun to peak out.  We hit the metro and headed to Sacre Coer.  It’s a beautiful church that we enjoyed visiting (and lighting a candle for my mom) and we had a lovely time wandering around Monmatre – even stumbling on to a square full of artists where we picked up some watercolors to take home.

Next church: Sainte Denis, the resting place of the French royalty that reigned between the 10th and 18th centuries.  It is definitely off the tourist path (very few things were in English) and in a very working class neighborhood – the street mark
et had a definite “East Enders” feel to it.  It was one of the best finds we had this weekend.

From dead kings to dead emperors, it was time to hit Napoleon’s tomb.  There is no photo that does it justice and what we found during our visit is that it isn’t even the most interesting thing in Les Invalides.  We wandered through floors of exhibits on French military history that ranged from small lead painted soldiers to Napoleon’s horse – yup, the taxidermist did a great job but it was very creepy.

We had been so engrossed in our visit and travels that we never got a chance to eat lunch.  We found a lovely bistro nearby and had another 3 course meal with wine before walking home under the Eiffel Tower just as the lights began to twinkle.

We had pretty low expectations for Sunday because we knew most things were closed.  No oversleeping today and we headed out to make a practice walk to the OECD where our Monday meeting would be (and the reason we were in Paris) and then found another cafe for the “American” breakfast. Lots of eggs and everyone else enjoyed the gluteny bread products.  Then we headed toward the Opera Garnier and realized that today was the last day of the January sales and most of the stores had special openings.  That was that – Galleries Lafayette, we were there.  Expensive shoes, hats, and scarfs were on the list and were duly acquired.  It started to rain and we ducked into a nearby jewelry shop where I acquired a lovely pair of amethyst earrings. We waited the rain out in a local cafe with champagne and coffee (why not?) and then headed to the other “must see” activity for the day:  Musee Louvre.

Yup, it was time to check with the Mona Lisa and all her friends.  We hit most of the exhibits in the Richelieu wing as well as the Medieval Louvre exhibit showing the excavated bits from very early building on the premises.  Then our dogs being so tired, it was back to the metro and another visit to the Cafe Kleber where our new favorite waiter took good care of us through yet another 3 course meal.  I may need to buy a business class seat just to get home!

Maybe this isn’t unique.  Maybe every city that achieves some lofty sports goal goes through this and it is really nothing to marvel at.  But I’ve never been in a city that found itself with something to celebrate so for me this is special.  I’m not one of the long suffering die hard fans who endured all the years of bad baseball.  I’m not even a longstanding resident. None of that mattered today.  Today the entire city and beyond came together to celebrate a common understanding that Kansas City was the place to be: no longer a ‘cow town’ or a ‘fly over state’ but the place where determined baseball players brought pride to their town. To quote the mayor from this morning’s paper: “If you don’t love Kansas City today, you will never love Kansas City.”  We had our World Series crown.

And thousands showed their love. Schools were canceled all over the city and families spent the day in the sun celebrating. Flocking to the parade and rally route, camping out over night.  The parade was set to start at noon, wind through the downtown and with the rally at Union Station – which you can see from my office window.

And from there I watched them come starting at 8:30.

And at 10:30 they were still coming.

And at 11:30

And at 12:30

And they stood everywhere:

And me in the midst:

Along with the girl in the balloon dress, and the strangers walking in the street. Traffic didn’t move and people didn’t complain. (Well, maybe they did a little.)

Even the Bank got into the spirit and, like so many other places in the city, dyed the fountain blue.

Because today we were celebrating. And it felt good to be here.

We spent our first Halloween in the new neighborhood last night. Last year it coincided with our trip to Austin for the Formula 1 race so we hadn’t had any experience with Trick or Treat in Brookside.  This year was also unusual because there happened to be a World Series game on with our local team so we had no idea what to expect.  For the most part it was fun: gathering in a neighbor’s driveway with others from the area with a fire pit and kids in costumes.  We even set up a TV to be able to keep tabs on the game while the kids came collecting candy.

I noticed two interesting things.  First, kids are used to “one door, one treat” and they don’t seem to understand any alternative.  We had four households gathered in one driveway and the two households next door were dark. Even though there were 20 people gathered in the driveway, many kids still knocked on the door.  We’d call them over and explain that several houses were in that one spot – one stop trick or treating we called it – and they would take candy from one person and leave. There were four of us standing there with big bowls of candy and yet they would each walk up to one of us and then move on.  And inevitably, they would knock on the door of the house next door even though we had just explained that we were all gathered together.   And yes, I know that they are kids but the parents were right there listening to the explanation so it still stumps me how rigid some traditions are.

Second, some people view this holiday activity as an acquisition competition – or it just brings out the greed in people.  We were expecting to see cars drive to our neighborhood to trick or treat.  I get that – some places are better (safer? more generous?) than others to go knocking on doors.  What dismayed me were the PARENTS who came with bags and some WITHOUT KIDS. Really?  You really need free Double Bubble?  And then there were the extremely annoying ones – the drive bys. Most people who come from elsewhere would park in front of a house and canvass the entire neighborhood before returning to the car.  To me that feels right:  you are adopting my neighborhood for one night and wandering around it meeting the neighbors and the kids like anyone who lives here would.  As the evening progressed, cars would pull up in front of the driveway where we were, doors would fly open and kids hop out and run to multiple houses while the car idled in the middle of the street.  It was so disheartening that parents are teaching their kids that they need to get as much free stuff as possible and then hurry back so we can go get more free stuff somewhere else.

And yes, we had the painful number of teenagers with pillowcases who didn’t even bother to dress up.  And yes, we had people who still came begging at nearly 10pm. But I am saddened by how this fun day that to me means dress up as something your not and share that entertainment with others is now no more than a grab and go opportunity. (We were cheered up by the Royals win in game 4 though.  Gotta look for the silver lining!)