Woodstock after 44 Years

I was too young for Woodstock.

The music festival took place in Bethel Woods, maybe 7 miles away from us, not in the actual Woodstock due to a business disagreement. A last minute change brought the music to a small town, Bethel, in the local hills. History was made and eventually the farm was developed into a music center, complete with a very interesting museum.

On Sunday, the anniversary of the last day of the event, musicians paid homage to Richie Havens who famously opened Woodstock with his song "Freedom." Havens died last Spring. His ashes were scattered by a small airplane over the site. We didn't go because we were still recovering from Bagel Fest.

Bagel Fest

I'm glad we had time to fit this in, we are so busy here in Jville. First was yoga. Marty and Buck went to the library. I did the drug store, post office and supermarket rounds. After lunch we headed to Monticello for the first-ever Bagel Fest. Everything around here is a "fest." River Fest, Garage-Sale Fest, Music Fest, Organic-Egg Fest, Corn Fest and Tomato Fest. The last few are made up but could be coming to a small town near you.

Bagel Fest was basically a way for the only bagel shop in town to promote themselves. They tried to make the Guinness World Book of Records by forming the longest bagel chain in the world but did not succeed. They had bagel-stacking contests and bagel-rolling contests. There were many booths selling everything including that ol' time religion. Commercial, but thanks to a beautiful day, enjoyable. We bought a few bagels (we're regulars) but they were the same air-filled somewhat tasteless objects they always are. Ah, you arrogant New Yorkers.

Slim, Serious Reads

I like to read two or three books at a time, mixing up the genre and especially the amount of mental engagement needed to keep me sane. Sometimes I slip and choose simultaneous reads that have one particular focus, say death and dying.

I checked out The Yellow Birds by Kevin Powers and Mortality by Christopher Hitchens.

The Yellow Birds is a novel about two American soldiers in Iraq in 2004. It's beautifully written, and that's a good thing because the death and destruction is hard to swallow.

What Do You Do With a 5-lb. Zucchini?

I know, I know. Everyone has a huge zucchini story at this time of year. The other day, I bought the smallest zucchini I could, for a buck.

Today, I started baking at 8:30 am. The yield? Two zucchini breads, one with walnuts, one without; three  dozen zucchini cookies; zucchini Parmesan. That last one was because I still had a huge chunk left and didn't want to deal with zucchini anymore. The kitchen closed at noon.

I should have taken a photo of the gargantuan but I was covered in flour and perspiring like a pig. Do pigs sweat that much? 

"42" and "No"

What do you do during torrential rainstorms before you lose power? Run to the library and take out movies. Thanks to Mother Nature we watched two wonderful films last week: ''42" and "NO"--terse titles but meaty, each in their own way. Both are non-fiction. Fiction movies have left me feeling like I've consumed empty calories, rotting my mind and making my body crave something real. Enough diatribe.

"42" is the compelling story of Jackie Robinson who was the first "negro" to enter Major League Baseball. He played with the Dodgers in Brooklyn and wore number 42. It was tough for fans, players and even managers to accept that the color line was broken; that it was by such a talented player, galled them further. Robinson helped the Dodgers get to the World Series in 1947.

Because I'm a NY Yankee fanatic, I revel in the continued honor Jackie Robinson receives from my team: Mariano Rivera, the best closer ever, wears number 42; Robinson Cano, who was named after Jackie, wears the reverse, number 24. When Rivera retires after this season, the number 42 will be retired by Major League Baseball.

"NO" tells the story of Chile's democratic elections in 1988. Pinochet had been dictator since his coup over President Allende's government in the early 70's. Everyone thinks Pinochet has the election in the can, but a talented ad agency who wants to bring true democracy to Chile in a fair election creates an ad campaign that is both funny, effective, and based on US-style ad campaigns. Ultimately, the NO's win the day and Pinochet concedes. "No" is the only foreign-language movie to be nominated for an Academy Award.

Love That Muddy Water

Everyone talks about the weather but nobody does anything about it.

The lovely brook behind our house turns into a swirling river of mud whenever it rains a lot. We've had massive thunderstorms and steady rain on and off for days. I took a moment yesterday when it wasn't raining to try to capture nature the power and beauty of the rising column of muddy water as it cascades over rocks and buries most of the brook's structure.

River of Mud

 The Whorl

The brook has returned to near normal but is still running high. The sun is out. The sky is blue. It's beautiful.

A Well-Woven Novel

TransAtlantic by Colum McCann is not just well-written, its stories are as beautifully woven as a hand-made Persian rug. It portrays the first transatlantic flight in 1919, leaving from Newfoundland, Canada to Dublin, Ireland. Then it jumps back to Frederick Douglass's historic visit to Dublin in 1845 where he is treated with respect and awe. He lectures on the Abolitionist movement in the US, and although a freed slave, is astonished by the Irish Famine. Leaping to 1998, McCann describes Senator George Mitchell's part in the Irish peace negotiations.

The structure is Cloud-Atlasesque. David Mitchell's Cloud Atlas is one of my favorite books. I read the novel, saw the movie and read the book again, but I'm obsessed with literature and impossibly long and complex movies. Connecting the Atlantic crossings in TransAtlantic is a series of related Irish women beginning with a young maid named Lily who sees Frederick Douglass in Dublin, travels to the United States and marries. The daughters and mothers they produce are hardworking and grateful for their chance to live in a country where there's food, freedom and possibility.

McCann's description of mother-daughter relationships is tender and tear-provoking. Then there's the blue letter, which has traveled back and forth to Dublin but never delivered. This 100-year old letter, with its fading address and no postage, ends up in Dublin, in the possession of Hannah. I was reminded of Virginia Woolfs' To the Lighthouse. And whenever Hannah pulled on her boots and waded into estuary outside her house, I thought of Woolf's suicide, filling her pockets with stones and walking into a lake.

TransAtlantic should win the National Book Award this year.

Jeffersonville FD Celebrates 125 Years

I love a parade. On Saturday, our volunteer fire department celebrated 125 years of fire, smoke and pancake breakfasts. We watched as dozens of fire trucks from J-ville and the surrounding area, wended their way through crowd-lined Main Street. Antique cars came next which seemed to be a bigger hit than the trucks. My favorite was the Infantry Regiment carrying muskets and wearing clothes of the period.

Why does this '50's antique look better than me?

Retired and in good shape

When Johnny comes marching home

The Shriners drove through in an old jalopy followed by a number of brothers on small motorized vehicles. One Shriner went rogue and crashed into the garden at the beginning of Main Street nearly slamming into 2 boys who jumped out of the way. Do Shriners drink?

Shriners and their cool hats

Shriner does it his way

From Hicksterville to Hipsterville

I know I promised fire trucks, but that will come soon enough.

In 1985, we moved to Fort Greene, Brooklyn. It was a decidedly mixed neighborhood, mostly black, some hispanic, and some white people who couldn't afford Park Slope or just didn't want to live there.

It was a dicey neighborhood at the time. Like many hoods of its ilk, there were few stores beyond check cashing, tire repair or salons catering to blacks. We made an acceptable offer and moved in.

We quickly became friends with our neighbors. It was a truly mixed place, not like now.

Now it's hipsterville, mostly young, fresh out of college, very expensive and predominately white. I had tofu pad thai tonight, an indication of the radical change.

I'm not saying it's bad. Just saying.

Summer Reading

I admit to having an addiction to "Law & Order." It started back when I was forced to spend endless days trapped in my hospital room unable to read, write, cook dinner. Marty has watched this show forever,  and old episodes play several times a day. From "Law & Order," it was an easy jump to "Criminal Minds." The psychological profiling of serial killers interests me. The characters make the show, from the wacky Garcia to the genius Reid, to the smoldering Malcom.

My friend gave me a paperback months ago, Vicious by Kevin O'Brien. My friend is the publisher. It's small and easily fits into a handbag, a big plus when you're lugging lot's of other junk.

First I'll say that the writing was fine. Nothing great, but no purple prose. It's the kind of book you take on vacation to read in the plane, the airport, poolside. There's action and mystery aplenty, and a wealth of dead bodies, most young and attractive. Most of the characters do a lot of crying, but their travails seem unreal. There's zilch character development hence no motive to give a damn what happens to them.

Four-year-and-a-half year old Mattie is the kind of kid you love to hate. He misbehaves constantly, cries and otherwise makes constant demands on his mother. I won't say what I'm thinking because you'll think I'm a terrible person.

My next post will feature fire trucks.