"Lonnie is a good hugger. We lie down on the bed (above sheets) in a sort of couple-watching-a-movie pose."

"His arm is around me and I'm cozy but faced forward. We chat lazily for a while, then Lonnie's breath slows down, and I attempt to follow suit, meditation-style."

It's relaxing, no doubt. Between the calming music, the presence of a warm body, and Lonnie's superhuman lung power -- his breaths seem to take a minute apiece -- I find myself easing into a half-asleep state. After about 20 or 30 minutes he says, "If you're comfortable, you can put your head on my chest."

A description of a visit to Madison's Snuggle House, which — as we discussed 2 days ago — is now permanently closed.

Madison's Snuggle House closes for good — because "the push back and harassment is not worth it, honestly."

"It has nothing to do with the services. It has to do with how much hate you want to tolerate. It’s not worth it. Not these days."

Ooh. Sounds like somebody needs a hug.

What happened? Too much regulation... or just not enough customers? I don't know. Who were the haters? The city or the citizens?

Anyway, goodbye to Snuggle House, we here at Alt House enjoyed talking about the concept. I went from assuming it was a hoax, to facilitating a conversation about what it would be, to more or less rooting for it. 

Knowing there was — at least once — a dream of people paying $60 an hour to be snuggled, maybe we can all feel a little more warmly rewarded by the snuggles we get at home.

Snuggle House finally opens.

"Lonnie Johnson, one of four staff members at the touch-therapy business... said staff were relieved to see the business get past the city paperwork problems and regulatory issues that had prevented the business from opening as planned on Oct. 15."

"Therapeutic cuddling is cuddling designed as a non-sexual way to stimulate oxytocin, the love hormone, which makes you feel safe and connected to others."

"These people are really lonely... There's a lot of need for touch," said the proprietor of Madison's Snuggle House, Matthew Hurtado. The City of Madison seems to be dragging its heels, fretting over the possibility of prostitution, and the place has had to delay opening.

According to Hurtado, there are 300 clients waiting for cuddling sessions, and that if the Madison sugglery is like NY's Snuggery, the clients are likely to be old people who — as the article paraphrases it — have "lost their spouses."

Lost their spouses? That sounds like carelessness. You know how old people are. Yes, they are old, so their spouses are more likely to die than the spouses of younger folk. But it's not the use of loss for death that bothers me. It's "spouse." What's the sex balance in that New York clientele? Are we talking about women and men or mostly (or nearly all or all) men?

Anyway, I note that "The Snuggle House occupies former law offices." Make a list of ways in which snuggling is not like lawyering and, next to it, a list of ways in which they are the same. On which list do you put "raises fear of prostitution"?

ADDED: Comment at the link: "I just know I'm going to get Snuggle House and Waffle House mixed up."

"Lonnie Johnson is the only male snuggler. He's previously held 9-to-5 jobs..."

"... but he said he wanted to answer the call so that he could help people."

"I was thinking to myself, 'man that is such a good idea,'" said Johnson. "Whether they admit to it or not, every human being needs love, needs to be cared about, needs physical contact as well."

Snuggling and snookering.

Was the CapTimes snookered by some web pages about "Snuggle House"? This seems absurd:

According to a recently created website and Facebook page, a new business called "The Snuggle House" is coming to Madison's east side on Oct. 1....

The Snuggle House promotes "touch therapy." Similar businesses and "cuddle parties" have promoted group and professional snuggling because of the increase in oxytocin released during the activity which can lead to a feeling of well-being and happiness....

The Snuggle House does not list an address or phone number. A Facebook message seeking additional information on where, when, why and how the Snuggle House will work was not returned on Tuesday.

If it's a real place, we could have fun mocking it, but come on. I'm stopping at critiquing the journalism on display here. Why are you promoting a (possible) business that doesn't respond to a press contact? It's lame and empty titillation, even as the purported business disclaims any sexual aspect to the services it would sell (if it were real) for $60 an hour.

Records From My Father, Part 2: "Velvet Carpet."

For the second effort in this series, I chose "Velvet Carpet," by The George Shearing Quintet with String Choir. I wasn't sure whether to capitalize "string choir," because it sounds generic, but what's a string choir? There are no vocals on this album, but perhaps there's an idea that the strings are singing. The strings are definitely in the background, with Shearing's quintet out in front. I take it the strings are more the plush, lush carpet...



... and the lady is the quintet. The lady is also perhaps the woman to be seduced by this lovely, charming music, over which a man and a woman can converse, wittily, and if there are any gaps in the conversation, they can snuggle and listen and feel elegant and sophisticated. And doesn't this woman look like a present day starlet?

The liner notes tell you how sophisticated you are:

To the sophisticates, [Shearing's] urbane piano seems to emanate from a penthouse high against an awesome city skyline.

There's a high-low ethos here too. In contrast to "the sophisticates," there are "those who like jazz." What Shearing offers them is "a beat as basic and danceable as any that rolled out of the open windows of Basin Street on a sweltering summer night."



I was surprised how much I enjoyed this music, even as I remember feeling perfectly annoyed at my father for listening to something that seemed so inanely smooth and pleasant. Here, listen to "'Round Midnight." What must he have thought of my finding these things manifestly bad? Now, I realize that I'm thinking about how I felt about his records when I was a teenager, but this album came out in 1956, when I was only 5, and I'm sure none of this annoyed me back then. In fact, I think I know that I loved it when the strings played pizzicato. And I thought everyone loved it. Everyone anticipated the switch to pizzicato and experienced delight. Listening to this record, I believe that George Shearing believed that sophisticates and jazz lovers alike would thrill when the strings went pizzicato.

Let's take a closer look at that little drawing of George Shearing:



Do you think George is giving you a sly look? If so, you are wrong. George Shearing was born blind. 

Born in Battersea, London, Shearing was the youngest of nine children. He was born blind to working class parents: his father delivered coal and his mother cleaned trains in the evening. He started to learn piano at the age of three and began formal training at Linden Lodge School for the Blind, where he spent four years.

Though he was offered several scholarships, Shearing opted to perform at a local pub, the Mason's Arms in Lambeth, for "25 bob a week" playing piano and accordion. He even joined an all-blind band during that time and was influenced by the records of Teddy Wilson and Fats Waller....

In 1947, Shearing emigrated to the United States, where his harmonically complex style mixing swing, bop and modern classical influences gained popularity.... In 1949, he formed the first 'George Shearing Quintet'... Shearing credited the Glenn Miller Orchestra's reed section of the late 1930s and early 1940s as an important influence.

Shearing's interest in classical music resulted in some performances with concert orchestras in the 1950s and 1960s, and his solos frequently drew upon the music of Satie, Delius and Debussy for inspiration. He became known for a piano technique known as "Shearing's voicing," a type of double melody block chord, with an additional fifth part that doubles the melody an octave lower....

I expected this album to be Muzak — schmaltzy, embarrassing junk. But it was detailed and crisp, and I asked the spirit of my father to forgive me for my deafness to the things that he loved.

"A 3-year-old girl who went missing from her home in a village in western Poland on Friday evening..."

"... has been found alive after her pet dog snuggled up to her overnight to help keep her warm in sub zero temperatures."