Archive
10/05/11 - (2)
Allez Phillies!
As I'd been lucky enough to receive two invitations, from my boss, To attend Bank of America Private Wealth Management's preview Of the Monet's Water Lilies exhibit, at the St. Louis Art Museum, Last night, my wife, Chantal, and I (Monet devotees who, last month, Returned from a sojourn in Paris, avec private-guided full-day trip To the master's Normandy home, in Giverny) found ourselves awash In a sea of NASCAR, Apple, and Berkshire-Hathaway affluence — Million- and billionaires putting on, exchanging, and time-sharing airs, Flaunting their arrogance, simply with their very "being there"-ness.
Unlike the gold-, platinum-, and silver-spoon-fed baby-boomer swells, We weren't there for the free booze, goose pâté, and crudités Or the buzzing claptrap, fustian, and balderdash about portfolios, Cosmetic surgeries, trips to Aspen, Vail, Cancún, Belize, Branson, Homes full of their own museum-grade masterpieces (Chosen by their interior decorators, hair stylists, and shiatsu handlers, To coordinate with home theaters and silk-wallpapered bathrooms), But to stroll in his garden, relax by his basin, smell his nénuphars, Lose ourselves in the shimmering pastels of his fragrant genius.
But as we were worshiping there, at one with wondrous Agapanthus, An unamused, in-his-cups blueblood on B of A's VIP list Sidled up to us, as if we, like everyone else there, cared, innately, And began play-by-playing game three of the NL Division Series Between the Cardinals and the Phillies. "Can you believe it? Last of the ninth! Cards down three to one! Man on second! One out! Looks like the Cinderella season's goin' south, fast! Goddamnit!" Suddenly, all the water lilies were baseballs, floating on the canvas, And we could almost hear Monet yelling, spiritedly, "Allez Phillies!"
10/05/11 - (2)
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