I’ve been back from Poland for over a week now, but most of the time has been spent in bed with the bronchitis I picked up in Krakow. I started coughing the day the Olympics opened in Paris, which meant that for the first two weeks of my illness I was able to watch the greatest athletes in the world compete in the most beautiful city in the world. (It was interesting, also, seeing the games from another country’s perspective – lots of brave interviews with people heading home without medals.) Since returning to Florida, I have been watching tennis (now on hiatus until the U.S. Open next week), the Little League World Series, and – starting last night – the Democratic National Convention. Last week, in another instance of good timing, the New Yorker’s special humor issue arrived. Meanwhile, I’m hearing that some types of bronchitis last six to eight weeks, which would take me past the U.S. Open finals and well into the start of football season.
Weeks ago I bought tickets for Opera Aria Night, part of the Miami Beach Classical Music Festival, not realizing that it would mean missing the U.S.-Panama match at Copa America and the first presidential debate.
As soon as the concert was over I checked my phone and saw a message from my friend Ardy: “Biden is doing as poorly as the US soccer team did today.”
The arias were divine.
I watch the Tony Awards for the acceptance speeches: stage actors always come across as more poised and eloquent in front of a live audience than screen actors do. So I was surprised last night by how many of the winners read from prepared texts.
Joining the sharks off the coast of Florida recently was a Russian navy flotilla on its way to Cuba. According to today’s Herald, this one was distinguished by a nuclear submarine. Meanwhile, in Moscow, Wall Street Journal reporter Evan Gershkovich was officially accused of spying for the CIA. I’m not an alarmist, but it’s hard to be an optimist as long as Putin is alive.
In this week of anniversaries, I’m flying to Philadelphia this afternoon so tomorrow morning I can take the Paoli Local (though it probably has a different name now) to Villanova to attend my 50th college reunion.
Back here next Tuesday.
Around 5:30 yesterday two young women in bikinis walked past Trinity Cathedral in Miami. Inside, moments later, the Anglican chorale sang the music of Thomas Tallis. It was evensong, a beautiful service and, in my opinion, the most beautiful word in the English language.