“Listen, Mate…I certainly don’t’ want to be singing Satisfaction when I’m 65” ……Mick Jagger (1980)
Well, I’m two days late and two dollars short……. after only mildly recovering from the week of Bunty- Band chaos………honestly it is too much fun, debauchery, zaniness, laughter, herding of herd…and sore finger nubs to really recount effectively……but the photos do pretty well….
The Nave discovered our theme for the week……The SHAME Gong on his phone, which we used repeatedly any time someone uttered a shameful mouthful…which was pretty much every half hour…. oh… THE SHAME……
We carried on way beyond our cumulative “DOTTAGE…….
Our 24-year-old Cello (really) player clearly has an empty third leg…….and ate 17 meals a day……. while pursuing any and every experience The Greens have to offer ……loved the Dumpmaster summit…….he also somehow retrieved a fellow wood sprite lady off the Appalachian trail…the two of them could only be described as The Bobbsey Twins…..in The POND together, I could not tell which was which…….
Vegans like cake and chocolate a lot more than evil diary…. they CAN be tempted by such……
“I got up to touch my bottom” ……………………………………
“I really like to BLING…….
The gardens and eccentric buildings of the Fourth Corner Foundation, in Wyndham, are pretty much indescribable……….
Food week:
Kelly’s of Wallingford Creamees- untouchable
Kelly’s lunch menu- B+
Maple Leaf diner- Londonderry- greasy B+
Ramuntos NY Pizza- Rutland- …you know the answer by now…
The Brownsville Butcher- A+
The Queens’ nightly dinner for 15…….by candlelit porch…. with wine and memories if Johnny 99…. beyond PRICELESS
Mojos tiny table for 10 on a Friday night in Ludlow……. A with a bullet……
How many musicians does it take to shop a grocery list….no woman…? just post-adolescent males…….
What is it like to rise to a cello concerto each morning…regardless of your mental state?
“200 years of persecution runs through my veins” ……….
How any bee stings can one person get in one week?
Can six 70ish music guys figure out how to get a PA working when a cords is gathered to listen……. apparently only when a 60ish youngster comes to the rescue (THANK YOU, JEB)
Music, music, tunes, pickin’ grinnin’ Tie dye ‘in……
Old, old friends….and new friends…and Vermonters…. ===…. The Bunty Orchestra…a week for the ages………What’s’ new pussycat?……..
Go now……. guess I gotta go now………let me count the joys……. Nave…. Feel…. Brother Al…. Mitch-man………Young Ferd……Marco……Mike-meister……Plastic Jesus Girl and Hubs……and the Vermont crew……love you to death…..anyone’s’ death…..
THE CIRCLE REMAINS UNBROKEN……………We will always love and miss you, Lloydie…………
Downtown Charlie Brown…. till we meet again……NAP TIME……….
Review: another fine entity to this series about Wyoming Game Warden, Joe Picket, now in its third decade of publishing. The characters in the book have evolved very well over time, and this is one of the great current series for sense of place; if you love the American west, this is hard to put down. The story revolves around the uncommon, and suddenly plentiful, incidence of grizzly bear attacks throughout Wyoming. The writing is precise and evocative; and the story keeps you engaged, though it seemed a bit more of a stretch on believability than usual. Still, Box is a gem of a writer that happens to be work in the medium of mystery.
“Clinging is to insist on being someone- Not to clinging is to be free to be no one” ………….Nagarjuna
“If you argue with reality, you lose- but only 100% of the time” …………………………………Byron Katie
“I love this week!!!!” …………………………………………………………………………………The Naven
Well, it’s been an interesting week- from the prairie heartland through the New York State Southern Tier lowdown boogie, then back to The Mount…………. Back on the project horse…. chasing The Queens’ elusive dream……. and making ready for the annual Bunty (not British) invasion to The Greens….…….
In the interest of domestic harmony (i.e.- better get back to massive Honeydew list we have been, under TQ direction, for fifth straight day) ……. I had better resort to the minimalist Zen Blog for today ………..
Thus…… her are the week’s BIG, BIG TEN…………
Spent our last Sunday in the heartland dog days performing our second live set, at Brother Mitch’s house…in the metropolis of Tipp City…… Where my granddaughters got to see Papi do his rock star thing for the first time……… A beautiful Sunday afternoon filled with music and friendship …ended with a traditional family performance of Will the Circle Be Unbroken……. which I got to sing with my daughter son in law and granddaughters in our own mini circle circle……… With our late brother, Lloydie, leading us from above……
On Monday, we finally got the butt –crack- plumber to show up at our house, albeit four hours late…………………………. And tell us we needed $800 of the esoteric pipe repair (for safety, no less!) …… All of which had nothing to do with our broken hot water heater………which miraculously sell repaired upon the butt- crack arrival………………………how does that always happen?……… So, we had hot water for our last 24 hours before flying the coop…….
Monday night, we had a visitation from my FANATIC great nephew….in Columbus for the major league soccer All-Star game………. and making time for his old uncle and auntie……. went out for a massive plate of Venezuelan delights…. origin unknown ……. Since most of our supply is in Vermont, we had pre- dinner moonshine cocktails…. you gotta go with what you got, no?……
Tuesday, we made the 12-hour drive……. Easing from the prairie, to the hills, to the verdant Green Adirondack valleys………and finally to her majesty’s Greens by late night………. A fine trafficless travel day with Lucy and the two cats roaming around the car for the length of the journey………. and a magnificent last minute stop at the Country View diner drive thru window in Troy, for our homecoming meal…. consumed as we turned north into the Brave Little State
Returning home, to the initial dark nights’ disappointment of scaffolding and ladders still gracing the house………… But next day…. clear evidence that the Assistant Dumpmaster …… And the Wayward Carpenter had both spent time finishing up our Beserkley punch list for the house project……………………………… Waking the next day, we were impressed to find the last of the house painting done, the roof/ceiling repaired, lights fixed, mortar applied………… All of which would seem to indicate project closure……. but…… Foreshadowing here….
That does not account for the massive running list of repair, retool and preparation that our own, private Obersturmführer had in mind and in store………… So the week has been filled with punch lists, hacking, whacking, pruning, relocating, revisioning…… And generally playing the part of a Gulag work crew in Siberia, circa 1946…… But who’s complaining?
Have I mentioned the birds?…………………. When we returned in May, we appeared to have a bird’s nest in our front entryway, nestled above our fake security camera………… which, The Queen promptly indicated was off limits …. for any form the disruption……………………… Thus the house painting project involved the cleaning, scraping and painting around said bird and her new family……………………………………… We continue to provide public housing for the little mother’s and her third round of babies……………………. which remain untouchable, and provide a steady flow of bird shit on our otherwise pristine front house paint presentation………………… But who’s complaining?
Yesterday, I was able to escape the Gulag, armed by TQ with a Master shopping list, that had me driving back and forth thru Rutland Town for hours on end……. Searching for all forms of esoterica in the mountains………………. With moderate success……………… The highlight being arriving at Walmart for curbside pickup only to find out that pickup was available at the local Wal-Mart back in Ohio………………………. This required immediate intervention at Ramuntos for the two slice lunch special ……. Before tackling the problem………. We have recently discovered the lowbrow Price Chopper which seems to want our business a great deal more than the indifferent and showey Hannaford down the road………… We now much more happily shop with the food stamp people……… And without airs…
On Friday night…. after years of the urging, nudging and persuasion…………………. I attended my first Belmont monthly Boyz-Nite dinner………………………… an affair involving the town’s crustiest, cantankerous old men bluebloods……………I was assured by proper place as invading flatlander…… All of this at the estate of a local transplanted- hot flash -New York lawyer, from Manse on a hill overlooking the Morass of what was once lovely Star Lake……………………… The menu of lasagna, Caesar salad and brownies somehow required a contribution of $11.00 per person……… The total haul around $220, by my calculation………… Which pays for a lot of lasagna………… I’m trying to decide which of: The Retired. Erudite Postman, The Yale Professor Whose Family Has Lived Here for 200 years …or… the towns authorized and celebrated Vietnam Vet Who Rules the Suppers at Odd Fellows Hall……………………… provided the most comic relief…………… Which was badly needed…………………………. The Queen insists I need to find my posse here at our Ville…………………… But frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn……
And finally today is arrival day, as my band mates of almost a half century began to arrive from points south and west……………………………… And prepare for the annual Vermont magical mystery tour………………………………… now…. I must go see my commander in chief………… for today’s’ assignments
The game is afoot……………………………… And long live The Queen………….
Notable People: Katja Riemann, Elisa Schlott, Anna Marie Muhe, Vanessa Loibl, Hans Wagner, Directed by: Elmar Fischer
Title: Our Miracle Years
Review: In a politically, morally and economically devastated country, three sisters of an industrialist Wolff family in post-war Germany reinvent themselves and set the course for their future. Potent drama that tells the often neglected story of the German experience following the war; centered around the aftereffects of the Nuremberg trials on former Nazis and the split of the country into two conflicting states. Extremely well-acted and poignant, and a powerful study of the rise of woman-power in Europe after the war. Riemann is brilliant the widow of a disgraced company director who commits suicide after being nailed as a Nazi collaborator- really powerful role. Very authentic production and will keep you riveted around the shadows of our shared, but limited, knowledge of this time and place, though waned a bit at the end of the second (and clearly final) season. Original German production was interestingly called “Our WONDERFUL Years”.
“On whose door dos the moonlight not shine?” ………………………………………Zen Guy
“REALITY and PERFECTION are synonymous” …………………………………… Baruch Spinoza
“I am the gates president foe the environment in history” …………………………..Who DOYA think
“We won’t get fooled again” …………………………………………………………….Pete Townshend
Well, contrary to my usual modus operandi, this will indeed be a short correspondence. The last two weeks have been a blur, culminating in our escape last Sunday to the heartland for annual mid-summer visit…… not a moment too soon.
Feeling guilty about blog- interuptus for three weeks, so decided on shortened nonsense from the Ohio residence this Sunday morning.
As you can see from the accompanying photos, we spent most of the prior two weeks ridiculously painting our house…………… A task clearly more appropriate for our grandchildren. The Queen essentially stayed on a ladder for 10 straight days with a camel pack and a poop bag (except for almost daily trips to Home Depot to buy more, more, more). We hired multiple people, of dubious lineage, to assist, all of which made matters worse. In the end, we only had to redo most everything they did.
In the midst of all this, we experienced the shared statewide PTSD, when we were amazingly threatened by severe flooding on the one-year anniversary of The Great Flood of 2023; essentially paralyzing the state for 48 hours of anticipatory angst, though resulting in little or no rain where we live; tho the Northies were pelted. I actually drove up north the day before to prepare for a full day state park retreat only to check into a hotel, spend 3 hours of zoom calls………………………………………… And then learn the retreat had been shifted to be virtual…………… Having never unpacked in the first place, I checked out, and drove home to spend six mind numbing hours on zoom the following day…………. Feeling guilty all day (sort of), while The Queen and the Assistance Dumpmaster tried to Bondo (now a verb) the entire house in prep for paint, fighting against 92° heat.
We escaped once or twice to find a dirt road and let off the proverbial steam………………………… Which required better mind altering chemicals than we had.
Sunday morning found The Queen back up on the ladder, until it was time to get in the car and drive 12 hours to our ostensibly “new” house……………………………………… I emphasize new, as in more trouble free (foreshadowing here) ……… So to our surprise we returned to a broken clothes dryer, ice maker and a failed hot water heater……. thus a dog days’ summer week in lovingly temperate (sarcasm!) Ohio with no hot water…… Groovy……
Still, we accomplished our mission, had two live performances with the band and multiple granddaughter extravaganzas; taking our youngest, little 3 y/o Parkie, on her first solo outing with Nana and Papi ………. To the Columbus Museum of Art, of all places, where she was enchanted by the abundance of color…………. Repeatedly asking who made that, Papi? We returned her for nap, and picked up older sister Sloanie, for our traditional, crazed 24-hour NanaPapi experience.
Today we are preparing for a giant party out by Dayton, and one more live show, before we gather our shit, and hit the road Tuesday, back to the little house on the hill until November-and to the leftover house beautifying fiasco.
Next week the band arrives for annual Vermont shows, and general debauchery………. A momentous event this year to honor our lost brother, Johnny 99, who left-as suddenly this winter. Trying to imagine 12 or so of our besties at the Manse for a week
We may be too old for all this………but can’t stop…. make it stop, make it stop…….
Review: This 2012 addition to the wonderful Jane Whitefield series, continues the trend of each book being better than the last. Jane is back in the business of helping unfairly hunted people escape and new anonymous lives, a career she is beyond masterful….. at once again leaving her long suffering surgeon husband to the good lie in Buffalo, and taking on the evil guys while helping three “runners” the same time. Filled with iconic Native American imagery, with wonderful characters and riveting road tales across the country, this series is one of the best going; happily, with no end in sight. A hard to put down summer read.
Notable People: Sam and Dave, Otis Redding, Carla Thomas, Booker T. Jones, Steve Cropper, Isaac Hayes, Jim Stewart, Al Bell; Created and Directed by: Jamila Wignot
Title: Stax: Soulsville, USA
Review: n 1960s Memphis, an audacious set of interracial collaborators dared to make their own music on their own terms, forming Stax Records, one of America’s most influential creators of Black music. This amazing four-part documentary follows the arc and ultimate fizzle of Stax; its fight to represent true American Black music, made for Black people and to be different than Motown in its quest for white audience. We see the underbelly of its ultimate demise in its failure to overcome the challenge of the giant white American music hierarchy: ultimately run over by Columbia records and burnt to the ground. But along the way, this extraordinary small town record label founded by bet brother Jim Stewart and sister Estelle Axton (ergo ST-AX) became the holy ground of soul music with Sam and Dave, Otis, Rufus and Carla Thomas, the Staples, the Bar-Kays and finally, their savior, the Black Messiah- Isaac Hayes. Told by the surviving principles in blunt and no-holds bard fashion, it is a compelling story of race, extraordinary creativity and the most unusual of integrated companies in southern America. And, it hovers around the enormously prescient Booker T. and the MG’S- America’s greatest interracial band. Eye opening.
“How easily it glows, how easily its light goes out- the firefly” …………………………. Chine
“Deep Calls to Deep” …………………………………………………………………Some Biblical Thingie
“Must be the season of the witch” …………………………………………………….Donovan
Well, Sunday began our recovery from the NYC extravaganza (foreshadowing here) and The Queen had decided that I needed a new guitar…… which she had found on the selling wall. I am not typically, nor hardly, either an impulse nor a collector (toys) kind of buyer. But I humored her, and we made the trek up to the booming metropolis of White River Junction and reluctantly purchased what looks like would have been played by Hank Williams on the Grand Ol’ Opry, which is kind of my dream to begin with. So now I have a new guitar that I have no idea what to do with, but which looks really cool and has its own state of the art pickup. Our reward for this was a must- stop at the infamous Wicked Awesome Barbecue where we dined outside in tent in sweltering 94° heat. From there, it was all into the search for the elusive bonding products to repair the front of our house- prior to the start of The Queen’s latest and greatest effort to repaint the whole magillah………… which might get completed sometime in this millennium. Did I mention how hot it was? This resulted in trips to three different Home Depot’s, in two states, and holding the general manager of the last one at gunpoint to acquire the necessary products. Subsequent to this, we crawled home semi- exhausted- (more foreshadowing.)
Began to have a few sniffles on Sunday night which I attributed to unaccustomed exposure to air conditioning that made everything in the city feel like entering a walk in freezer, but by Monday morning was feeling a bit worse for the wear. Determined to work through this, I spent the day working online and doing zoom calls, going to the gym, and playing music Monday night. By nightfall it was worse. Tuesday morning decided to take the dreaded test, which was resoundingly positive…. WTF……… Which only reaffirms my belief that these days the two most dangerous things to do are to fly and to go to New York. As a result, was I went to New York, got the plague, and had to cancel my planned trip to North Carolina for family reunion……what a world.
So, back to the world of masks and isolation and feeling generally like a leper. So, you might imagine there’s not much to say about this week…………. But, alas, you know well that is not my style, and thus here is live report of what Stuie did with his week of Plaque-cation (get it?):
I read two whole books
I watched hours of classic appearances on Austin City limits, which I was not aware still existed, but which I found out is the longest running the entertainment show in television history; Jackson Browne, Merle haggard, anyone?
Found my buried treasure of handkerchiefs that and then sneezed thru a dozen in a day.
I discovered how to connect the portal with FaceTime and spent time with the entire family in North Carolina………. All of whom did not seem to even realize that I had not made it……. there’s a deflater.
I reluctantly picked up a paintbrush, and washed, scraped and sanded the entire front entrance portico to our house, while TQ flew around –up on various pieces of staging, scraping and bonding the roofline and upper windows.
I spent an hour a day bitching about the handyman we hired to assist us in painting the house, who, in typical VT. fashion, dropped off the staging and ladders and then disappeared. What were we thinking?
I commiserated with God’s Own Mandolin Player, and prepared or refined set lists for three upcoming gigs………………… Thinking about songs that could be played with masks on.
I watched several episodes of the Lone Ranger…. nuff said, masked man.
I swam in the wonderfully clean, though very brown, Pond for the first time……, naked…… managing to not get bit by our newest monsters snapping turtle.
I watched wistfully, through the screen door, as the. Dumpmaster took advantage of my illness to make repeated visits to woo The Queen.
I took my masked self to Home Depot, where we spent my last six months’ earnings on the painting project………………. that will likely never end.
I made friends with Ivy, Lucy’s erstwhile suiter, and even lured her into the house, where she mingled on the porch with all the non Covid living beings in our household.
I watched more Austin City limits. I read more books. I took a nap.
I cleaned and organized the back of our barn – just to see if breathing in asbestos for hours would adversely affect my Covid………. apparently did not……… except I can no longer see out of one eye.
I watched several old taped baseball game……… since we do not have cable and I cannot watch them live…. better than nothing? maybe….
Practiced my technology skills by updating many programs on both of my laptops…………. Leading to only several minor crashes………… And the need to start in safe mode……. nothing ventured, nothing gained.
I sweated a lot, ate a lot of carbs, gained a few pounds and went to the grocery with two masks on yesterday, which seemed to result in excellent customer service.
I generally felt sorry for myself for 48 hours……………and then decided it could be a lot worse.
Long story short………. I had a bad cold for 2 ½ days, and am now back to jogging, and normal routine……though continuing to lay around and wear a mask whenever TQ comes in the house……….. To avoid any further painting assignments…… it could be worse
Getting ready to head out in a 90° heat and sweat the last of it out……. and actually symptom free for three days; thankfully in time for several music events, an overnight work trip, and our mid-summer visit back to Ohio (and the g-daughters) next weekend for 10 days………. The Lord is my shepherd……… I SHALL not weep………
Got to go see a man about a dog………but I’ll be back………
Review: An unsigned postcard arrives at the Berest home in Paris in January of 2003. A photo of the Opera Garnier is on the front – on the back, no message, just four names written in ballpoint pen – Ephraim, Emma, Noemie and Jacques. The names were of writer Anne Berest’s maternal great-grandparents and their children (her aunt and uncle) who had died in Auschwitz. It takes 16 more years for her to try to find out who sent that postcard and why, and what that story discloses about her family. Set in France, and an Incredibly hard hitting and, at times, extremely painful recounting of the horrors of the Nazis and the Holocaust – but on a very personal/familial level. Well written historical fiction, that may be closer to non-fiction than not. This is not a fast book to read, as I had to put it down at times, as it became so fraught with emotion and tragedy, but a lot of heroism as well. It’s a time we would all like to, but should never forget. Very well translated from the original French best-seller.
“The sparrow is sorry for the peacock at the burden of his tail” ……………… Rabindranath Tagore
“All is one, one is none, none is ALL” ……………………………………………. ZEN
“I got you Babe” ……………………………………………………………………Sonny Bono
Feelin’ the RAMBLE this morning, after a week of sturm and drang…so going with the abstract form……. the swelling is in the telling….
Sunday last was trekkin’ day, per custom, and off we went to the high country between Rutland and Danby in search of the museum of dirt roads; finding a beauty, complete with miles of matrices of hanging maple lines crisscrossed with raging streams, water wheels and vistas……… eventually leading us back to the draw of the two slice of special at Ramuntos……. Just in time for roving alarms signaling the rare occurrence of tornadoes in the mountains………. No climate change here……
The day the music died………… Reminded this past Monday that weekly Folk Club at The Mount is not quite pulling into Bunty Station…………… Circles and song sheets are a poor replacement for soulful inspiration………. Where are the men that I used the sport with?
Tuesday sauna workout at the Springhouse at Okemo Mt…………. Upside: the building and the facilities are all mine ….and what a view……. Downside: broken air conditioning and working out in 89° heat……. Must not be any free lunch……
Check out the photo of the new Library Maven’………… my new volunteering gig at the Mount……. Consisting of a two-hour weekly shift shooting the breeze with various local visitors and waiting for a train………. My own library romper room…….
Has anyone checked out the HBO documentary on the history of Stax/Volt music? …………Otis, Sam and Dave, the Fabulous Bar-Kays, Isaac………… This may be the real American music………. the role of soul…….
Mid-week role into town to visit in Rutland Co-op………. To acquire various seeds, stems, and bin potions for The Queens’ concoctions…………… I had to fight my way in, wielding a large organic carrot, due to my failure to own, wear or display a pair of Birkenstocks………….
Our new ambition to rid our barn (and souls) of 40 years of unwanted crap has resulted in a personal mandate to haul a minimum of five items per week to the dump………. This week we made a special trip on Wednesday night with a whopping 10 plus items, of dubious distinction, loading down our trunk……… who knew that The Dumpmaster convenes his entire court mid-week………… Clearly this is the place to see, be seen and conduct all forms of nefarious business…………. Much of our junk did not even make it to the bins, before being swallowed up by the hordes of shark like mountain folk…. …..
TQ is currently on the project rampage……. Yard barely recognizable…………. Secret items arriving daily to the neighbors mailbox (she thinks I don’t know) ……….. This week she banished me to the basement to clean 10 years of dust and debris, requiring the double N-95 masking……… …while upstairs a new window appeared in my bathroom and plans were made for multiple construction projects…………… The coming week will apparently herald the initiation have a multiyear house painting project, led by the brand new assistant Dumpmaster……
I returned for the first time in some years to the table of the Masseuse in Da Trailer for hot rocks, suction and a full assessment of my spiritual wellbeing while she manhandled my ancient bones…
Friday we made our way down the iconic Taconic……. filled with memories of my long ago childhood treks with my long gone father to West Point…. reasons unknown…… but always including a stop at the beloved Chief Martindale Diner (the real deal) ……still in business….and hosting our visits almost 70 years later….
This led us to our usual 24-hour annual whirlwind trip to visit my Cousins in the Big Apple surroundings………… Five meals, 60,000 carbs and too much wine later we made our way home last night………. Family- finding has become a mission of mine in my waning years…. And we were able to gather eight Cousins together for the traditional meal meeting at one of a dozen Italian Restaurants in the affluent Burb of Tuckahoe….
We stayed with my closest cousin in her high-rise apartment in the last bastion of Jewishness left in the five Boroughs…………. In a building self-contained to survive the next nuclear war and containing somewhere in the neighborhood the 10,000 scurrying souls………. All of which proves to be a startling delights to Lucy, who must have been a very urban dog in a previous life…… who knew that she knew from elevators, noisy apartment neighbors and pissing on concrete? … Bonus was a Saturday morning jog to a classic bagel emporium during the height of the rush hour to the massive Riverdale Shul………… Bobbing and weaving through the hustling, suited and yarmulke bearing, murmuring observers of the faith……… leaving them a bit startled as I whizzed uttering “Good Shabas”, from what must have appeared to be a lunatic fifth Goy with a dog and a bag of bagels….
Not to mention stopping every 20 yards to snap photos of the quaint little Hobbit houses that probably sell for four million dollars….to Jews and Goys alike………. there is some ancient, primeval attraction to these places I’ve spent years trying to leave behind, yet which emerges the moment I hit NYC traffic and my inner taxi driver returns from hiatus….
And is there a more alluring sight than the mighty Hudson River making its way from THE great city to the mountains and beyond….
Well, much as there is many more ramble to tell….that must wait for another time as we have to go see a man about a guitar……. Don’t ask
So, until we meet again, may the sun warm your shoulders, and may you find a real slice of pizza regardless of your location……
