evening all:

Hello from the massive construction zone in the desert called Las Vegas. The most amazing sight is from our room overlooking the pools here at the Bellagio. People look like little red, white, and black ants crawling around. No, the red ones are not ‘fire’ ants, just bunches of Midwesterners bound and determined to bake themselves to a crisp.

Marcia’s return from Tonga went like clockwork. A big smile on her face, refreshed from spending a night in LA, she met me at the gate—along with half a ton of hand-woven Tongan mats. Her shopping mantra while in Tonga was “a mat for every occasion.” If the weight is a bit out of control for our travel home maybe I’ll roll myself up in one of them and just be shipped back.
The video Marcia and Adrianne shot proves that the ladies had a marvelous time; so did everyone else in the video, other then the rat that successfully auditioned for a great dying scene. Personally I felt the rat hammed it up a bit.

The meetings I am attending have been every bit as good as I had hoped. This city does have some great eateries and we’re experimenting to the ‘Nth’. Last night we saw Cirque du Soleil’s Mystere show. Here, performers turning their bodies into heretofore undiscovered pretzel shapes becomes commonplace. For Marcia, this has been the perfect re-entry into the US, and yes, she is up $35.00 in the bandit department. As is usual for me in Vegas I just race on by the tables and machines, I just can’t see the whole gambling thing and never have—sorry casino owners, I fully understand your lack of ‘comps’ when I register.

I feel like I have lost a friend this week, someone who I had never met but to whom I spent many late night hours listening—Oscar Treadwell. Treadwell was really Art Pedersen, salesman. For over 40 years, once the sun went down, ‘Oscar’ would emerge on the Cincinnati airwaves. Oscar’s smooth voice would begin to guide you through every nook, cranny, and nuance of Jazz. In fact, Oscar was not just a DJ, he was probably the foremost jazz historian and jazz fan alive. So much so that Thelonious Monk wrote “Oska T;” Charlie Parker wrote and recorded (with Dizzy Gillespie) “An Oscar for Treadwell;” and tenor saxophonist Wardell Gray penned “Treadin’ with Treadwell.” Thanks Oscar.

This week I read a book that that I just devoured. It is the story of survival, discovery, faith, and forgiveness of Immaculée Ilibagiza’s Left to Tell. Her family slaughtered in the Rwandan genocide she survived by staying hidden, and for 91 days not leaving a 3 by 4 foot bathroom she shared with 6 other women, dropping from 115 pounds to 65. Her story describes not just survival but growth, and I couldn’t put it down. Now I have a problem—nothing to read on the flight home.

This week, a very Happy Birthday to Jeanne P. and Dia, I was going to write a snappy (sappy?) little something for the ladies, but thought I’d just get into trouble.

Make it a great week everyone.
Cheers,
Dirk