The hotel, as I may have mentioned, was an interesting property. Fairly new and attractive in a way that characterizes modern suburban hotels:

Of course I left a Google review, because I am at the stage in life where I simply must let everyone know what I thought. I decided to take out a line about a grumpy night auditor, since it probably comes as no news to anyone who works there, and I wouldn’t want her to get in trouble for handing over the toothpaste packets without a word or eye contact.

I mean, I’m not at that stage in life yet. I am still at the generous and philanthropic stage where I decline to upbraid someone for insufficient glee while providing gratis dentifrice.

As I said yesterday, there’s no need for any family stories or funeral stories here. It’s enough to say that I saw a lot of my favorite people, and that made the weekend better. This is great, having wonderful conversations with bright folk and new acquaintances, great trip - oh. It’s not great. Yesterday I was home; now I am sitting in mother-in-law’s living room looking at the reflections on her piano, because someone perished.

On Sunday morning, I am in an elevator lobby, questioning their choices in Sunday morning music:

Okay, well, I’m a big fan of the group, but come on. It's 9 AM. The music trickling from the speakers all over was mostly uptempo rock from the 90s, indie sludge and jangly clatter, and seemed at odds with the generally sedate and slightly upscale brand positioning. Or was it? Surely it was chosen for a reason, because none of these things were accidental. So I went to the front desk on the off chance the person on duty would confirm my suspicions, and I got the hotel manager who was EXTREMELY DELIGHTED by this line of inquiry. Yes of course the music is set by the brand, and differs according to where ether property exists in the tier of subtends - the most basic one, the place that has no coffee maker, desk, iron, any of that, they have nothing but electronic dance music ALL THE TIME, and while there are a few complaints most are fine with it. Hence the 90s vibe in this place - it’s catering to an older demo, but the uptempo rock is only on the weekends for that celebratory feel.

“Yeah but ‘Smells like Teen Spirit’ in the elevator lobby at 2 AM?”

It’s smooth uptempo jazz in the late morning -to- afternoon, though. A more relaxed vibe for coming and going, checking in.

I was telling him about how Muzak used to work when I was younger, and

EXCUSE ME I HAVE TO CHECK OUT ROOM 313 said a visible irritated woman. Don’t blame her at all.

The day after the funeral we went to Grandma’s place (I naturally slip into the word I used around Daughter) and they did pickleball while I wrote a column. The plane was supposed to leave at 6:40, and we were half an hour from the airport, so I settled for leaving at 4, instead of arriving at four. Wife drove for the sake of everyone’s nerves. (She is not a fan of my style of driving, which, for me, could be described as “Fun.”) I watched the map on the phone to guide her to the right side of the highway to exit from the HOV lane, but AH CRAP the rental return exit came up fast, without warning, and we missed it. This meant going in a loop through the airport itself. Okay no problem plenty of time. The problem was the Apple Map, which kept redrawing the route and the streets as if there was some huge drain on the simulation’s processor and it had to improvise. Roads that had not existed five seconds before would appear, as the loop got longer and longer. The voice kept saying to turn right just ahead, but there wasn’t any proper place to turn. I knew what it meant: at the top of the loop we will go right, so that we may go back. But wife kept hearing the Turn Right command and thought I was just making things up. No, the all-knowing app is making things up.

Eventually we got right, abandoned the vehicle (sounds bad, but that’s what it amounts to) and encountered the absolute best TSA line in recent experience. Was it a belts-off-shoes-off-laptop-out day? Guess so.

Dinner for three at Shake Shake for about $900, then wait. The plane was late. The plane changed gates without anyone telling anyone. Half-hour late leaving. Fell asleep while ascending. Landed late, tired, sleepy, taxi to house and an ecstatic dog. Sleep. UP AGAIN after five hours to take Natalie to the airport to return to Boston. Work. Gym. Pecked a piece. Didn’t like it. Ended up writing something completely different at 11 PM. Bed. Up. File piece. Post Substack. Wince: did something to the back, possibly at the gym, possibly by crossing my legs.

Anyway. Story done. Cover closed, book on shelf. On to the next interval, whatever the hell that will bring.

We now begin this year's account of meaningless, random clickings on the internet, following one link from here to there, learning some interesting things along the way. You know, the rabbit hole.

Today we will journey from here . . .       . . . to this.

I was sorting the ads for next year’s Advertising History section, and ran across this one: Mr. Knabe’s bio: Valentin Wilhelm Ludwig Knabe was born in Creuzburg, Saxe-Weimar, on June 3, 1803. The French campaigns in Germany in 1813 prevented him from studying to become an apothecary like his father, and instead he apprenticed with a cabinet maker. “I’d like to be a druggist, but these damned French campaigns!” What were the French Campaigns? You suspect ol’ Boney was involved, don’t you. In the War of the Sixth Coalition (March 1813 – May 1814), sometimes known in Germany as the Wars of Liberation, a coalition of Austria, Prussia, Russia, Spain, the United Kingdom, Portugal, Sweden, and a number of German States defeated France and drove Napoleon into exile on Elba. After the disastrous French invasion of Russia of 1812 in which they had been forced to support France, Prussia and Austria joined Russia, the United Kingdom, Sweden, and Portugal, and the rebels in Spain who were already at war with France. I’m always on the fence about Napoleon, partly because I just don’t know enough. I read one bio, it slants me one way. Read another, and I go in the other direction. Liberator? Liberal? Autocrat? Power mad? All of the above? In my demographic cohort, I think we grew up thinking he was Hitler without any of the Hitler parts. Take that Russian thing. What was the point? The French invasion of Russia, also known as the Russian campaign, the Second Polish War, the Army of Twenty nations, and the Patriotic War of 1812 was launched by Napoleon to force the Russian Empire back into the continental blockade of the United Kingdom. Napoleon's invasion of Russia is one of the best studied military campaigns in history and is listed among the most lethal military operations in world history. It is characterized by the massive toll on human life: in less than six months nearly a million soldiers and civilians died. Yeah but he was a Great Man of History so This painting shows Napoleon regarding the city of Moscow, which had been evacuated, then set on fire for good measure.   The painter was on Napoleon’s team, too. You wonder how much he struggled with the expression. He was Adam Albrecht, and had a long career. In 1815, with the Napoleonic wars drawing to a close, Adam relocated permanently to Munich, where he was court painter to Maximilian I Joseph of Bavaria, a position that allowed him to complete commissions for many prominent families in Bavaria and Austria. Albrecht Adam's studio became a centre for aspiring artists not least his three painter sons: Benno, Eugen and Franz. Three! Good genes. Albrecht painted for the court, did a lot of horse paintings, and sold lithographs of his war work. But towards the end of his life: In 1859 Adam followed the army of Napoleon III of France during the Italian campaign against Austria recording the action in a series of drawings and sketches. Returning to Munich he painted the Battle of Landshut 1809 (1859) and the Battle of Zorndorf 1758 (1860) for Maximilian II of Bavaria. Forty-five years later, he worked for the other Napoleon. The idea that there was a second Napoleon is like learning that Gershwin wrote a second rhapsody. (Which he did) Most of what I know about N3 comes from my study of his urban reconstruction plan, how he pulled down the old Paris and commanded the construction of the beautiful city we know today. Looking at his list of honors - many, many fancy necklaces from chivalric orders - I see one from the order of the Southern Cross, a Brazilian order. That led me to the bio of the George Washington of Brazil, their first emperor, Pedro the First. The point where my head starts to swim is here: The Confederation of the Equator. Great name. They were the group that opposed Pedro, and broke off from the country. They had their own flag. High hopes, I’m sure. When you consider all the turmoil of the Southern Hemisphere, the new states and huge fortunes and colonies and wars, AND the never-ending jostling among the states in Europe, you think: The 19th century was just a madhouse. The 20th century seems simpler, with its two big wars and then the bipolar arrangement. Studying the 19th century is like overturning a rotten log, and seeing a billion insects writhing away.