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Back, but not in the U.S.S.R.

The first thing you notice upon disembarking at the airport in Moscow is the smell. Or more precisely, the lack of it. The signature pungent odor of rough Soviet cigarettes is gone. At passport control, the pimply-faced, heavily armed teenagers in the ill-fitting uniforms have been replaced by smartly dressed, tastefully made up sulky young women who briskly check your passport and send you on your way.

I last was in Moscow in late 1991 as the wreckage of the Soviet Union gave way to the dubiously named Commonwealth of Independent States. No one could have known then what level of chaos and hardship this country would descend to. Sixteen years later and what seems like at least two lifetimes, I've been given the chance to return for NBC to work on several reports with correspondent Jim Maceda on the state of modern Russia.

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Thank you for remembering 'uncle pete'

You have outdone yourselves -- all of you out there in cyberspace who have taken the time to respond to my posting about my beloved uncle, Peter Boyle.  What I didn't realize was just how beloved he was by everyone he ever made laugh, smile, cry, wince, shiver or think. 

From those who recalled his Philly roots (and so many of you remember my grandfather's television show) to those who mentioned some of his lesser-known roles or who simply wanted to share their prayers and good wishes, you have given my family a lasting gift.  Your words will be a comfort to us and a testament to his life that we can savor for years to come.  Thank you.

Read Clare's original posting

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Remembering Uncle Pete

He seemed to always play the curmudgeon, though he was anything but.  Peter Boyle, who died last night here in New York City at age 71, was not only a marvelous character actor - he was also my uncle.  The acting genes run deep in my family - my mother, Peter's sister, is a tremendously talented stage actress who's still juggling roles at 78. Philadelphians of a certain age might recall my grandfather, who hosted a local children's TV show as "Chuckwagon Pete" in the very early days of television and worked with Ernie Kovacs. His eldest daughter, Lucy, is already an accomplished actress and playwright.

But it was Uncle Pete who had the highest profile career, one he came by somewhat by chance after briefly considering a monastic life with the Christian Brothers.  The first movie I remember him in was Joe, a 1970 film in which he played a bigoted, Archie Bunker type without the charm.  I don't really remember the movie, since I was five and it was deemed unsuitable for impressionable eyes.

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Why did I hide my sunscreen?

It's been an eventful day -- both in the air and, it would seem, here in the blogosphere, as my morning observations have triggered some interesting responses. I can't address them all, but for those who believe I am whining or worse, helping the terrorists, a few thoughts. My experience at JFK transpired very early this morning, before much was known about the new luggage restrictions. The frustration I and many others witnessed at security grew out of the fact that by the time most people were apprised of the restriction, it was too late to put the problematic items in their checked luggage. As the morning wore on, it became far more efficient, and I'm guessing, there ceased to be battles over such things as baby formula. But that is indeed what was happening early this morning, as passengers and security officials alike got a grip on this new reality. And a note about your blogger -- I fly for work often, and understand and appreciate the work that goes into getting all of us where we need to go safely. But having had a piece of checked luggage stolen very recently, I'm also well aware of the many pitfalls of air travel. The thought of losing still more of my belongings at an airport was difficult to take, I realize perhaps not in the grand scheme of things, but nevertheless, that's why I tried to hide the sunscreen. In any case, this situation is our collective new reality.

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A whole new way to make us fear

Editor's note: Clare was on her way to Burbank, Calif., from New York Thursday morning for a Nightly News assignment in Los Angeles. She writes this missive about her airport experience from her Blackberry Wireless Handheld.

Even in this post-9/11 world, the scene that greeted bleary-eyed travelers in the morning darkness at JFK International Airport was surreal: "No liquids or gels of any kind" read hastily printed signs taped to the check-in desks.

Those who noticed them hastily shoved mouthwash, toothpaste and sunblock into their luggage, but most did not, unaware of what was playing out at security. Air travel, an Ironman-worthy test of endurance on the best of days, today will stretch every passenger and airline worker to the limit. 

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FROM ROCKAWAY

It's a part of New York City most tourists -- and a great many people who live here -- never see. Far down the Rockaway Peninsula, in the shadow of Coney Island and lower Manhattan, lie several communities that together form a cohesive example of small town America in a most surprising place.

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