Drinking in Maine Peace

Dan, Figgy and I are up in Maine. Punch didn't want to join us, and things didn't exactly go well when we forced her to come last summer. We can't leave our teen at home alone, so Florida Orange (our goddaughter) and her husband have Punch visiting down in Florida. Very nice. They have a sweet new baby girl and Punch loves tropical climates and babies, so it's a good fit. She flew down from Newark Airport and is away the same week we are. We are house- and cat-sitting for dear family here, so that's lucky, and nice, too.

Some notes of peace and joy:

• Beautiful breeze in the trees.
• Fun ride up with Figgy. But by the end, 10 p.m. ish, she said Mom, you talk constantly. Which I do. I'm driving back with Dan Tuesday. Fig has to leave Monday for work.
• Taking care of Pat and Martha's garden. It is so lovely and fertile, bursting with orange, yellow, rose-red, geranium-pink. I wish our gardens were like this. The Maine coast just seems perfect for bright, colorful blooms.
• Lovable fat cat.
• Boats in the harbor.
• Book in my hand.
• Vermont yogurt for breakfast.
• Good coffee from Downshift in Belfast (espresso blend).
• We plan a day to walk and sightsee at Acadia National Park.
• Dan went to the strawberry farm this morning but the red gems were all picked by 11 a.m. We hope to go back Monday or Tuesday, 8 a.m.
• My mother-in-law came to the BBQ. Her daughter rented a van and her sons helped her in, and drove her back. She is 95 and even though she is forgetting a lot, she is remembering some things, too. Like my name, Alice. She also liked looking at the pond and the trees and feeling the breeze.
• Hotdogs and burgers on the grill, cooked by Mike. Grey Poupon mustard.
• Quiet time to process my brother's death. It was June 11, so quick and so recent. I have many thoughts about this, especially that John was estranged from us for decades and at the end of his life, we were involved in the most intimate details, even in cleaning out his apartment in the East Village. He told me last year that he had started to bake desserts weekly and was enjoying it. Going through his cabinets--vanilla extract, cake mix, boxes of brown sugar, cans of frosting. It all felt intimate, all of it. Not just his clothing and photos and letters but also his groceries, the chicken in the freezer, the can of San Marzano tomatoes I brought him January 1. The balsamic vinegar, the boxes of pasta.
• The walking bridge here in Belfast, so lovely. Taking strides by people on the side who hold fishing poles over the bay.

I'm trying to stay in the moment. We have been in touch with Florida Orange and Punch.....they seem good, too. Plus F.O. and husband have a big dog! Punch loves dogs. Good night.

My Eldest Brother Has Left the Building

My brother John. Photo from @internationalbarnyc.

Please check this charming story from The International Bar in the East Village, via the owner, my brother John’s younger friend Tyler. ("I love that guy," Tyler said when he heard John was in the ICU earlier this month.)

STORY FROM EV GRIEVE: https://evgrieve.com/2025/06/rip-john-garbarini.html?m=1. That post links to the obituary I was honored to write about my brother. He would have turned 73 today.

Another of his close friends, stylish artist Bobby Dean of Sophie’s Bar in the EV, held the first memorial service mentioned in the obituary. Dan, Figgy, Punch, Sis, Celia, Nancy, Nicole and I all attended that one, along with many admirers. We brought subs (prosciutto, mozzarella, eggplant etc.) and Torrone nougat candy from old-school Russo’s and mini pastries from venerable Veniero’s, 2 doors away. (Our Italian grandma, Rosie, often brought us Torrone when she visited Dumont.) A table in the corner held a framed photo of John; a martini with olives (his favorite drink, Bobby Dean said); a copy of The New York Times crossword puzzle; and a pitcher of blue and pink hydrangea blooms I clipped from our shrub in Montclair. We toasted our brother and friend.

I’m out of town on a planned trip now so will miss tomorrow's farewell at The International Bar. Sis and friends Edie, Walter and Margaret, I think, will represent.

I regret to say that our family's relationship with my brother was strained and estranged for many years after our mother's death in 1981. He was smart, talented, well-read, funny--and an enigma, a man of mystery. I blogged about it here. But Sis and I were back in touch as of 2023 at least, so that is good. 

With Dan, we met John for lunch at a Mexican restaurant one spring day. On Good Friday 2024, I had lunch with my friend Celia in the city at a restaurant that serves food like Ukrainian Veselka. I told her my brother's apartment address and she said it was right around the corner. We found the hidden apartment, behind a building with a locked gate and a special code, and said hi face-to-face. And on New Year's Day 2025, Dan and I drove in, met Celia, entered the code and dropped off some homemade Marcella Hazan Tomato Sauce; a black & white photo of blonde toddler John with our young mother, near the waves on Cape Cod; a small bowl from my parents' wedding china for remembrance. John came to the door, sat on the seat of his walker, talked with us.

Dad told me once: "Mommy and I used to swing John Joseph in the waves and he laughed so much."

May there be laughter, peace and healing after we leave this land for the heavens. And a feeling of unconditional love, acceptance and respect.

The John Garbarini coasters Tyler made, so cool.

Fun with Celia in the Greatest City in the World

SMØR Bakery in the East Village, so close to where my friend Celia lives, in Stuyvesant Town, and just doors away from my brother John's apartment*. Who knew? Thanks, Celia, for taking me there. Photo by Karsten Moran for The New York Times. 

I took the train into Penn Station (the Moynihan Hall renovation is finally coming along) to meet my friend Celia for lunch in the East Village.

It's late, so I will do a punch list:

• Round trip NJ Transit train ride from Mountain Avenue Montclair only $7.15 for a senior. Bargain.
• Two subways, the E and the 6. Good to be back in the midst of things. Police presence, two friendly officers helped when I doublechecked that the uptown E would go to Astor Place.
• We ate at Little Poland, a restaurant not far from the Ukrainian hotspot Veselka (which was packed) on Second Avenue. They had little, freshly baked loaves of Easter bread by the register, $6 a pop. I got one for my family. I had Swedish meatballs, steamed carrots, red cabbage, potato pancake.
• Celia and I went to PlantShed on Second Ave. Gorgeous flowers (fat fuchsia roses on long stems), heavenly candles and lotions, tiny flowerpots, a nice cafe with good-looking pastries, such as  teddy bear financiers, and matcha coffee drinks. We just browsed, but I would like to go back.
• I realized my oldest brother, John, lives a block away. I called him, and then Celia and I popped by. He couldn't come out, but he looked much better than when I saw him last, in the hospital. I really like his neighborhood. We will be talking soon.
• SMØR Bakery on East 12th Street! Oh my goodness. I can't wait to return. Nordic, with hearty loaves, sandwiches, pastries etc.! The sesame sourdough rolls are SO GOOD, chewy and thoroughly seeded. Scandinavian-inspired space, shelves stocked with jarred herring, imported licorice bears and rich chocolate spread (like but not Nutella). Here is NY Times report. Smör/SMØR means "butter" in Swedish.
• Celia (who is Jewish) took me into Immaculate Conception Church on First Avenue. I think I've been there once before, but had forgotten. Good Friday liturgy....we caught a glimpse of the holy service, the procession, the crucifix swathed in crimson cloth, full pews for the 3 p.m. service. We didn't go in past the glass doors but saw beautiful statues in the alcove.
• MTA crosstown bus. Liked it.
• Dan had a poker game here with Michael, Dean, John and Gary tonight. It looked like fun. Dan is always happy when surrounded by his friends or his four older brothers.
• After driving Punchy to Fort Lee for a birthday party, I motored over to Whole Foods in West Orange for Easter basket treats for my family. Also pink tulips, lavender epsom salts, oat milk creamer, vegan butter, etc., delicious-looking mango-filled vegan cookies for Easter dessert that I can tell everyone will like.
• Car wouldn't start when I left Whole Foods. I had to call AAA; thank God we have it, and cell phones, too. Anthony came fast and towed our car back home, while I sat in the warm cab on a cold night. We also had to pay (a lot) to Uber Punch back from Fort Lee. We are hoping to get a new car soon. Figgy and her car were at her new apartment Friday.
• High stepping, with those subway steps, the NJ Transit train and getting up and down from Anthony's tow truck. (Back home, Dan was there to help me.) I am getting older. And for all the truth and beauty of life, that is sobering.

Good night to you.

*My other brother, Will, lives in a NYC apartment too. I am the baby of four.