RAINY DAY REMEMBRANCE


Published in The Saratogian April 1, 2001

With last names like Smiley and Funk, you know thereโ€™s bound to be something creative going on in the imaginations of this Ballston Spa duo. The couple, both natives of San Diego, Calif., purchased a house at 63 East High St. last May. Luellen Smiley and Rudy Funk have turned a once-ramshackle 1860โ€™s structure, now known as The Follies House, into three furnished apartments oozing with zany charm. Smileyโ€™s brochure touts the place as a โ€œplayful vacation residence designed to inspire.โ€ On the wide front porch, a sign offers visitors โ€œFree Records,โ€ paying homage to one apartmentโ€™s main decorative inspiration: classic stage musicals. Called the Broadway suite, its walls are adorned with record covers, programs, ballet slippers and even a dance costume. There are dice on the end tables, a life-sized poster of Humphrey Bogart, colorful paper parasols and peacock feathers. For tenants who bring their own films, thereโ€™s a projector screen and, tucked into an alcove, a working Victrola. Vintage Broadway memorabilia is everywhere. Then thereโ€™s the nearly ceiling-height replica of a bass guitar. โ€œThis was actually a costume someone wore,โ€ said Smiley, pointing out the head and arm holes. โ€œThese are the kinds of things we like, the really unusual and unheard of.โ€ Growing up in California, Smiley aspired to be a dancer and maintained an interest in the arts.

THE FOLLIES HOUSE

In recent years, she became keen on the idea of renovating and decorating an older home, although the village of Ballston Spa was not first on her list. โ€œWhen we first came here, I wanted to be in Saratoga, and when I drove through Ballston Spa I said, โ€˜Iโ€™d never want to live here,โ€โ€˜ Smiley said. โ€œBut then we rented here, and I didnโ€™t want to go back on the road. We loved this street. We think this village is really starting to happen.โ€ The couple went to work feverishly last spring to ready the apartments in time for the track season. While not a bed and breakfast, the apartments are designed for temporary tenants โ€” people new to the area or vacationers. Smileyโ€™s off-season rates are $800 a month for the Broadway Suite and $700 for the Boomers Pad. The one-bedroom Boomers Pad is designed with vintage โ€™50s and โ€™60s furniture. Smiley said she and Funk combed area antique shops, including those in the village, for many of the offbeat pieces, including the vinyl records and oversized pink sofa. The houseโ€™s history mirrors the eclectic style the couple has brought to the home. โ€œIt was built by a man actually named Dr. Doolittle as a wedding present for his daughter,โ€ Smiley said. โ€œYou can see the little touches everywhere. There are butterflies and sun rays carved into the woodworking and doorknobs. Itโ€™s a love house. It was built with love.โ€ Smiley said she and Funk have combed files at Brookside History Center looking for old photographs of the house in order to decide what color to repaint the facade. โ€œThe exterior of the house is next on our list, and while we havenโ€™t located any photographs, weโ€™re thinking pastels,โ€ Smiley said. โ€œInside, we used a lot of pistachio and pink.โ€ While Funk commutes to and from California for business purposes, the pair weathered their first winter this year, relying on the kindness of neighbors for jobs like snow-blowing. โ€œWeโ€™ve never seen winters like this,โ€ Smiley said. โ€œIโ€™m from the other side of the world. But this is a very supportive community. Thatโ€™s one of the things we love about the village.โ€

Smiley has immersed herself in the closely-knit community, joining the Ballston Spa Business & Professional Association, the local chamber of commerce, and helping promote an upcoming Art Walk. The Follies House recently was given a beautification award for significant improvements during the past year. In her brochure for potential tenants, Smiley points out area highlights including the Saratoga Performing Arts Center and destinations within the village, such as the museums, the glassworks studio, Art Ink., and the new gallery and loft spaces on Low Street. Smiley said she also recommends people take a stroll along East High Street, a historic district known for its Victorian homes. โ€œIโ€™ve seen little villages, big villages โ€” but what I see here is the most beautiful village,โ€ Smiley said. โ€œThe potential is here. Thereโ€™s a sense of magic here and the transformation will happen. Iโ€™m certain of that.โ€

Author

Cari Scribner

ON THE SOLO STREET OF DREAMS


I am not afraid to write the truth, to stare and embrace the reflection. It appeared last night; a thought manifested in an abstract way; a torch of light, a rainbow, an open door that symbolized a guide to contentment, and peace of mind, it felt reachable if only I evaporated into the sensibility, allowing change, a complete transformation from this encampment of isolation and fear of making the wrong decision.

Drizzle Thoughts


The embryo of thought. Sometimes it is negligible, as is life.  I am the puzzle maker and every time I try to carve the right size square, I fall off the board and have more material to write about. The puzzle is so vast that it covers our lifetime and the pieces are the choices, and non-choices that fit into themes.  My life, is like a melody, a Gershwin tune. As a dancer and prancer at heart, my feet are my hands, and my hands are my heart. Drizzling rain is relative to thoughts on a Saturday; a few thoughts for my book, assembling the bedroom fan, calling friends, a walk with my umbrella to live in rain, answering emails, and those hypnotic Film Noir Classics on Utube. When world news disables self-absorbency, it’s a relief, I hold hands with whatever keeps me alive.

HONESTY-REMEMBER


Except from a work in progress.

Greta dressed in pink jeans, a pink striped polo shirt, and low-heeled pumps. As she opened the door she thought, and said out loud one step to go. She flipped down the top of her car to ride visible, a sort of rehearsal to adjust to the main street on a Saturday afternoon. Storm clouds churned and after checking the weather channel, rain coming in one hour, Greta closed the convertible and went back indoors. Not truly disappointed as sheโ€™d stayed up till three am watching the Shooter series on Netflix and woke at eight.

(I use the name Greta in my manuscript because of this, my father repeatedly scolded me when I said, I want to be alone, he replied, ‘Who do you think you are Greta Garbo?’)

Journal June 10th.

The street was quiet except for the barking dogs so I sat down to write, and let the paper stare back blankly. I switched over to Facebook and viewed my feed, the Rolling Stones, Italy Travel, Artnews, Creative Non-Fiction, Emily Luxton Travels, and Jazz photography. Voyeurism, the normalcy of our culture, to watch life from a screen, I’m guilty because I’m at heart a loner, a drifter that moves on the outskirts of socialization. When discourse and confrontation knock at my door, I go dormant to the world outside. My mask is not convincing, So, I bear up, like today, and take nature as my friend; a patch of blue, gray skies, the sun tea cup surprise, the birds and chipmunks on my lawn, and the occasional passersby who are living in their world. At seventy only two lines matter: I’m proud of you, and you could have done better. HONESTY.

PHILIP TOWNSEND REMEMBERED


The Beatles and the Maharishiย ย  1967Philip Townsend

The Beatles and Maharishi at the Meditation Centre, Abbotsbury Road, Kensington. After this meeting, they went to the Hilton Hotel, Park Lane, where Maharishi gave a lecture.ย  These shots for Beatle purists were taken before they went to Wales or India.ย  The shot of all the fabs, partners and road crew is interesting as it is one of the few with the whole lot in one snap.

The photographs are exclusive as I was the only photographer there. I had been asked by the holy manโ€™s Public Relations agent to take them but they failed to pay, me therefore I own the copyrights.

What I love is every Beatle has a distinctive expression at the meeting. Note John contrasted with Paul.

Gallery Loulou 2008

Philip arrived from London late in the evening. We met him at La Posada Resort Hotel. He did not stop smiling and chuckling in spite of his lost luggage, and a twelve-hour flight. His photographs had arrived and were already placed when we invited him into the gallery. Again, a resonating joyous outburst, ” Oh, it’s lovely, marvelous, just marvelous.” He was tall, lanky, and at seventy-something majestically youthful. We spent hours together over the next week. He loved when I made him a cup of Tea, the bumpy New Mexico road trips we planned, and the dinners. The slightest bit of congeniality towards him was returned with a pat or a hug and kiss. Opening night was a sensational tribute to a prince of a man.

What

POP-UP FRIDAY FOLLIES


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SANTA FE-WINE & CHILI FESTIVAL, A MEMORY LIKE CEMENT.


THE MEMORIES are fading, like images floating through a mist, not just of Dodger but the life pre-break-up, a carousal of my favorite places; swimming, hiking, running, new restaurants, gallery openings, shopping, concerts, clubs, dancing in the street and our porch parties, but I cannot remember the state of grateful, emerging in the vortex of sensations, stimulation, surprise.

Do we ever return to that kind of forever spectrum, as if it will never end, and then it does, and we cannot go back. Itโ€™s not too late to feel grateful, fortunate, and lucky to have lived so many acts of my choice.

May be an image of 6 people

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5Carolyn Gootgeld-Levine, Erika Marie Schwalbach and 3 others


POP-UP THOUGHT ON A RAINY THURSDAY.

Direction is a choice; move back home, move near your children, move for a job, but in my case, I move because my act in Saratoga will come to a close. I’m like a blank space between two paragraphs; it sounds like freedom, no commitments other than being the best I can be. Starting over in a new location is about redesigning within.

Iโ€™m still a nomad, searching for adventuresinlivingness. As I lay my head down on my pillow, the interim is asking me to be peaceful, faithful, and confident. Itโ€™s about time!

Reminds me of when I went off to college, a liberating extension of those early days when belonging to things didn’t matter, life mattered. If you are single and without children, this is the knife that we must slice into a piece we accept, or no peace will lull us to sleep.

ON THE ROAD FROM SOMEWHERE TO SOMEWHERE, I CAN’T REMEMBER. MAYBE SANTA FE TO SAN DIEGO.

May be an image of road, nature and sky

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HITS, CLICKS AND SHARES… DO I KNOW YOU?


The list of projects stares at me; donating boxes of what I can do without, vacuuming, calling friends, grocery shopping because my frig looks too vacant, finishing the manicure I started yesterday, estimates on the cracked steps, and painting the front porch, well, itโ€™s a short list because I live a short life. Not working on a specific project, other than managing my home, tenants, and repairs. It leaves me with more time than I have ever had, to think, process and write. This week’s Tik-Tok hearing enraptured my attention. I stopped my life to watch game changers change the game. The result will most likely ignite protests, appeals, and millions of Tiks! I write because my head is full of thoughts. I exert neutrality to ignore the number of readers that read it, share it, or like it. It’s not any easier than being the only one without a date on Valentine’s. Day. Why do we all crave an audience? Hmm, has social media collapsed our self-esteem, importance, and relevance? It is comical; hits, clicks, and shares mean we matter.

ACADEMY AWARDS


Academy of Loulou Awards. All of you that respond to my nuanced writings are awarded. A Star award for a few that push my cart.

Marc Romano, Historian, J’amie Rubio, author, and archivist, Antonio Mendoza for the best photographs of the Rolling Stones, Alison Martino for Vintage LA, Rare Jazz Photos for the best photographs of Jazz, Eric Dezenhall real friend and author, Cynthia Duncan, my consiglieri, Santa Fe Bulletin Board to bring back the memories, Scott Varley, the best real estate broker I ever met in 25 years, Las Vegas Mafia History… I’ll think of more later. Warren and Annette Hull, filmmakers, Danielle Haynes, an angelic warrior who joined my battle, William Winant, a high schoolmate and acclaimed musician who remembers me, Larry Henry, torch-carrier of Mafia history and Greg Price, my UK 911 call, along with Gloria Devan, Tere Tereba and Armen Ozaynan who settles me down. Friends, when you are single, are food for the soul.

Del Mar, Ca.May be an image of 1 person, standing, coast, sky and ocean

RELOCATION…SENIORS


My direction is following Lawrence Durrell, โ€œSpirit of the Place,โ€ and living where I would never expect to live.ย I wish I could control my impractical, impulsive, and annoying spirit of adventure. I think about architecture, Jewish deli’s, Italian restaurants, at one movie theater built in the 1930s, and neighborhoods of unfamiliar lighting, expressions, and conversations. Gambling on yourself is how much you can adapt, change, influence, and accept the days of your life.

In my syndicate, there must be a dozen pals with the same unsolved equation. Is it age that blocks me and maybe you from relocation, or is it the trauma and stress? What liberation to just pack a suitcase and board a plane like in the movies. Separation from the familiar. The spirit of adventure has arrived. My home sold and so relocation isn’t a muse any longer, it’s reality. Today, coincidently is Independence day and so am I. It is a day of nostalgia. The Rudster painting Follies. It took two summers to remove the aluminum siding, scrape, caulk, prime, and paint my chosen seven colors to resemble a wedding cake. Mr. Doolittle built the home in 1883 as a wedding present for his daughter.

The Rudster painting Follies. It took two summers to remove the aluminum siding, scrape, caulk, prime, and paint my chosen seven colors to resemble a wedding cake. Mr Doolittle built the home in 1883 for his daughter as a wedding present.

RELOCATION IN REFLECTION.


  Curiosity doesnโ€™t always kill the cat, sometimes it brings confidence. I asked my British friend, โ€˜is it common for people to lose their curiosity, passion, and desires as they age?โ€™ He responded, LOL, yes. Thatโ€™s where we are different, he has certainty, whereas I don’t. Being single and living alone affords you freedom of thought, and so it was this weekend, while enveloped indoors to avoid the chilling grip of winter, my thoughts were in a heated argument.

Go to Saratoga and visit the Casino Museum, have a croissant or lobster roll, roam the gallery district, window shop, and get out of this house now.

Itโ€™s too cold to walk, Iโ€™ve been to the museum, I donโ€™t feel like dining alone again, and the galleries Iโ€™ve been to are arts and crafts.

Thatโ€™s not the reason, is it?

No, Iโ€™m not curious.

Just four years ago, Iโ€™d pop out of my Santa Fe home and walk up to Canyon Road Friday Night. All the galleries are open and serve appetizers, some live music, some street vendors, and some costumed characters and it was a party. I didnโ€™t mind eating alone because I knew the restaurant owners, bartenders, and regular guests. Sedation of spirit came in the last six months. The first year coming back to my home after a six-year absence was invigorating and new, and unexpectedly in need of serious maintenance and lease management.

In front of El Farol, Canyon Road on a stranger’s beauty mobile. Twice a week for live rockin music and dancing. One of my favorite dance floors because the stage is three feet away.

The second year was getting about town and exploring and then Covid so it was an incomplete year. The third year was a wicked winter and when spring came, the ebullient appreciation of the sun and flowers renewed, and my curiosity temperature was down but not dormant. Circumstances too complicated and gruesome to write, force me to stay here. Iโ€™m one of the millions, that live where they donโ€™t choose to live anymore. When the day comes, the freedom to relocate is my curiosity. My next nest is undetermined. My friends, ask me, โ€˜where are you going to move to?โ€™ This comes up in every third or fourth conversation. And the answer is the same, ‘when I know Iโ€™ll tell you.โ€™

Upstate on a clear day.

Poetic justice for a life-long wanderer. Curiosity I call on you to visit my spirit and paddle me out to waters and roads unknown.  Give me the confidence to keep my oars afloat; confident, curious, and passionate.   

On the road from New Mexico to somewhere… I can’t remember.