If you recall, last Friday was a bitter cold day, so of course that’s the day Susan and I planned to spend walking around Manhattan, The day started badly with my car overheating (resulting in me car shopping this week…ugh!), thus delaying our entry into NYC (and possibly cancelling our trip to Warwick). But Susan had the brilliant idea of driving into Forest Hills and catching a subway. Amazingly, it worked.
We had 1:30 PM reservations at the Society of Illustrators dining room. I heard about it through the Children Services Division of the Nassau County Library Association who sponsored a trip there on a day I couldn’t go. We 
made it with two minutes to spare. Yikes. If you haven’t been there, it is worth the trip for the atmosphere and the food. We heartily recommend the soup of the day, the Lemon Thyme Roasted Chicken and the pasta of the day. The wine was delicious and the Chocolate Cake with Raspberry Coulis was scrumptious and the slice was huge. We couldn’t finish it no matter how hard we tried. It was lovely way to relax after rushing to get there on time.
There are illustrations all over the place…obviously. However the pulp art of the scantily clad young woman (similar to the one shown here) by Robert McGinnis that was placed over the urinal in the men’s room should probably be relocated…for various reasons. Being the pulp art fan that I am, I stared at it for quite a while.
We had plenty of time to kill so we wandered. I won’t bore you with the details.
Our final stop was 
Town Hall where Dr. John was providing his rendition of Louis Armstrong. I have his CD of Duke Ellington material and Johnny Mercer material so I sort of knew what to expect. However, the band he had, blew us away. There was a trombone, trumpets, alto sax, tenor sax, a keyboard (besides Dr. John himself), 
drums, bass guitar. He had a guest trumpeter and a singer. There were slow songs and faster songs, all styled in Dr. John’s unique way. But it was the last two songs that truly made us think of New Orleans. It began with a slow version of When the Saints Go Marching In and ended in a rousing New Orleans style jam making us wish we were in New Orleans. I’d see this concert again, it was that good. And I just ordered the CD, Ske-Dat-De-Dat: The Spirit of Satch.
Of course, that fact that “He came to me in this dream and said, ‘Do my stuff — your way,’” said the 73-year-old pianist just adds to the already considerable Dr. John mystique.
In case you’re wondering, we did make it up to Warwick. I won’t describe the horrific 4 hour drive home in the snow. Why ruin a good weekend!
Two Heads Together 