Stacy Horn

I wasn’t going to go because it was my choir night, but I decided to cut choir and I went to the party celebrating the publication of Stealing God’s Thunder.

It was great! Usually book parties are so tedious, but I had FUN. I met a curator from the American Philosophical Society (founded by Franklin) and all these people from the Loser’s Lounge (one of my favorite things in New York to do) were there. Ms. Cecilia Brauer of the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra gave a performance on the armonica (that’s spelled correctly), a glass musical instrument invented by Benjamin Franklin. And my friend Lianne (married to Phil) gave a sweet toast.

I made a wise how-should-I-spend-my-evening decision.

My friend Marianne Petit (pictured in the Halloween Parade shot earlier) wrote a graphic novel about her life and the bizarro world inside her New York City apartment building. This is why people live in New York. Or run screaming in every direction.

(Marianne’s self-portrait from the 716 website.)

Although I’ve been subscribing to The New Yorker for years, it seems like for years there’s rarely been an article I want to read all the way through. I’m trying to remember the last one. Because there have been some. And it’s never a waste, they are always great.

I wish I could bring myself to read it more. I’m pretty sure I’d have a better understanding about Iraq, for instance.

There’s an inviting one in the current issue (about to become last week’s issue, though). The Lost City of Z: A Quest to uncover the secrets of the Amazon, by David Grann. Maybe I will do that today. Because I sure don’t feel like working. I’d go to a movie but I went to a movie yesterday, and I’m meeting some friends at the movies tonight.

UPDATE. The article was great, as was another about Harold Arlen. I’ve been curious about the guy who wrote the lovely, but melancholy melody to “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.”

Meet my Uncle Charlie, AKA Father Aloysius Boyle. (I get mixed up about what he was to me. A great great uncle or something?) Among other things, he served as a pastor of Our Lady of the Isle Church, Shelter Island, New York, St. Mary’s Parish, Dunkirk, and St. Joseph’s Parish, Baltimore, Maryland. He was also Vicar of St. Mary’s Retreat, Dunkirk.

He died as the Rector of Holy Cross Preparatory College where he was elected after the 1926 Provincial Chapter. They tried to revive his health in Baltimore to no avail as he had cancer. (My cousin Debbie got all of the above, including the picture, from the church archives.)

I found so many sad stories while researching by family history. Another Boyle died in a fire, six months after his wife died following an operation. Some said it was from smoking in bed, and that he had been drinking. Lots of alcoholics in my family. We’re Irish. I found two people who had been committed, and there were many early deaths for the women — the genealogy program I use says that women in my family only live to 58 years old, on average.

Uh-oh.

This is a picture of my band at SOB’s. I’m not in the picture because I always stood at the far left of the stage. I was the only left hander in the band, and invariably I would whack someone with my drumstick, so my official spot was last drummer on the left.

These days I only drum a couple of times of year, and one of those times is the Village Halloween Parade, which is coming up! This is me with my friend Marianne at one of the Halloween Parades.