FOTOFRIDAY: I Voted
- Did you?
I may look pleased with my-selfie, but…
Voting isn’t easy in 2020. Nothing is. Seems like we were always told to vote. Vote Vote Vote! That’s still the message, but…why is this so hard?
Keep the faith.
I may look pleased with my-selfie, but…
Voting isn’t easy in 2020. Nothing is. Seems like we were always told to vote. Vote Vote Vote! That’s still the message, but…why is this so hard?
Keep the faith.
When it comes to Wily Marketing, few businesses can compete with Crooners, a large jazz club here in the ‘burbs. (Yes, the ‘burbs!) They’ve found ways to keep open, keep the conviviality flowing, and keep the musicians working—much to the glee of the socially-distanced, sell-out audiences. Their latest innovation: The tent.
Last week, at age 92, the Marvelous Marilyn Maye filled the big-top for 5 nights with world-class music, spontaneous and spot-on humor, and enough Covid-may-care charisma to leave the audiences deliciously, if temporarily, filled with faith. Don’t believe me? Peruse this rave review from the Star Tribune’s seen-it-all critic.
I sit in awe during her shows. And I’ve seen, oh, 55? 95? Because I spent a few summers working a club in Okoboji, where she played—and has for 64 years—2020 being the first miss since the run started. She also plays fine venues all over including in NYC, Palm Springs, and (in the day) Johnny Carson’s show a record 76 times. No wonder I still show up giddy.
A silly pandemic couldn’t stop her from a five-night run at Crooners. She even flew in her favorite but often-unavailable pianist (since he also accompanies starry names like Liza and Bette), Mr. Billy Stritch. Never heard of him? Just trust me when I say he’s the best. And their harmonious chemistry makes your heart pound.
So…YES! Life goes on. Mini-musical-BreakAways can still happen. My obsession with live performance (best served live with good friends and red wine) has not died of C-19. And there are still savvy establishments like Crooners that won’t shut down, and won’t shut up. Instead, they throw up a tent and invite everyone inside.
Marilyn and Band remind us to fight the fear, support your loves and causes, and of course, to…
Keep the faith.
As a one-time college teacher/preacher (and student, many times), I have forever soapboxed about the sacred value of the college BreakAway. It’s the ultimate experience, after all, combining learning, relationship-building, tradition, experimentation, and so much more (whatever you make of it!).
In the College BreakAway Gospel, here are some important commandments: Stay in the same place for 4 years (but do off-campus opportunities); focus on friends and teachers and people; open your mind and try new things; do MUCH MORE than simply studies (sports, music, volunteering, leadership); make memories of all kinds and places; amp up your values and ethics; learn to write.
If you follow that advice, it’s amazing what a $70K tuition (more or less) can buy you these days. All the above, one hopes. And if you’re really lucky, enough hand sanitizer to last until the next…pandemic? Or at least graduation day.
Life is good for my daughter, a senior in high school—today’s sur-realities notwithstanding. Yet doing the college search and visits campaign has become increasingly complex (and it’s never been easy). Interested in playing a sport and wanting to attend the showcase camps, tourneys, and events—where the matchmaking usually occurs? Good luck with that. They’ve been cancelled since March, leaving athletes and teams in suspenseful hesitation. With no clear end or solution in sight.
But we have managed a few presentations, tours, meetings, and walk-arounds. At one university—which had delayed bringing students to campus—we stumbled upon these tons of hand sanitizer. They’re ready for the onslaught of co-eds, contagions, and fate.
So keep the fate. I mean faith. As College Preacher Kirk also says, the process is always strenuous and stressful. But a perfect-enough match usually transpires in the end somehow.
To get to the the point: When we are able to travel again, I suggest you brush off that bucket list, save some jingle, and prioritize trips to your sacred natural spaces. Because they are fading fast.
In my life, snorkeling among the stunning coral, fish, and other critters fills favorite memories. Perfect meditation + exercise. But I can testify that, since I started going to the Virgin Islands in the 80s, the difference is depressingly obvious. Like, at least 75% of the sea treasures are either gone, depleted, or bleached.
Above, these geese are lounging in a city park near where I live. My guess is, not many years ago, that pond wasn’t covered in green scum. Oh sure, we’re all haunted by Covid, elections, violent divisiveness, and such. But when (if?) those issues resolve themselves, I hope the world gets serious about saving, well, the world.
Because many of us still have so much to see, in so little time.
Lotsa folks call fall their favorite season. They seem to get excited about cooler temps, changing colors, a forgotten sweatshirt. Me? Some nickname me “The Summer Guy.” So fall means the end of swims, boats, gardens, and easy-breezy outdoor lounging. I won’t even go into the raking labors and that first ice storm.
However, I do believe fall may be the ideal travel season. Heck, if you go somewhere warmer, it’s still summer! And if you head somewhere trendy and touristy, those swarms have usually flown back where they came from.
I found myself in Europe during the fall of 2000, as part of a 4-month RTW trip. Putin was in Paris on this particular Saturday night. So, well, the place was nuts: Security everywhere, parking nowhere, a seat in a restaurant unthinkable. Until 1:30 in the morning, that is, when my friend and I found both parking and dining.
Without question, that sole meuniere was the best I’ve ever had, well worth the wait. And a long evening of driving all around Paris with no worries and ample time? Unforgettable. The sights were glowing. The people-watching fascinating. And the weather? Picture perfect.
Alas, most of us aren’t going far this fall. Still, happy autumn and…keep the faith.
BreakAways come in all forms. For kids—and for adults who like to don a costume and party—Halloween offers a giddy vakay from Reality for a night that often stretches into all fall.
But a Halloween display in late August? In the produce department of an upscale grocery store? That’s scary. As if we don’t have enough to fear of late.
Halloween will morph in many ways this year. COVID-19 will see to that. But you can count on commercial interests to push candy, costumes, and cavities.
On the upside, most folks will remember to wear a mask.
Who is this guy? How did he get in there? Does he ever get out? Who gave him such lovely blue eyes? And, by the way, when did he last see his dentist?
I know. But I’m not telling.
But I will say this: Take a BreakAway from your normal schedule and routine, assuming normalcy returns again one fine day, and you too will meet characters like this. I promise.
Back in the good old says, most people revered travel as an adventure, a gift, a dream. Nowadays, depending on where you live, traveling a few blocks to get a haircut can seem exciting. And risky.
Speaking of risky, I took some nice shots of Koala Lampur’s exotic, late-night market back in November of 2000. But I preferred most meals in tourist-popular restaurants—since going RTW inspired keeping gastronomic experimentations on the safe side, especially with my 3-year-old son at my side.
Still, whatever this gentleman is cooking looks pretty good right about now. As does wandering around an Asian city that never sleeps.
Keep the faith.
FF is late this week. Because the Crew has been on vacation. Nothing exotic, not long enough, but…away. Most people dream about getting away and things, but the sad fact remains that more than half of US workers’ vakay days go unused. It’s the Odd Duck who actually takes care, takes advantage, and takes off for some frolic and fun.
In this picture, you can see what happens to that Odd Duck. Co-workers attack and ostracize. They splash water on your visions of work/life balance. They quack behind your back and peck at your beak because they are jealous you might find bliss and pissed that your absence may increase their work load.
You, meanwhile, may be a closet territorialist—afraid that ditching the job may result in lost opportunity, a back-breaking backlog, or the realization that you really aren’t essential anyway. Yes, it’s complicated. All the more reason to step away for some fresh perspective. (Just don’t think too much. Watch waves and ducks.)
We’ve been carping about this since at least 2009. And yes, the pandemic complicates time off, as it does everything. But maybe the unprecedented stress and uncertainty of these times makes getting AWAY and UNPLUGGING more important than ever! Because hanging with that white duck and the other curious and revitalizing experiences of this BreakAway did much to calm my turbulent waters. For now, anyhow.
Keep the faith.
Yes! I did! In the city, even, where there is (waaaaaay too much) light pollution. I had to kayak out on a lake (not the safest thing to do but, hey) and use binoculars on a clear night. Once spotted, the feeling was magical. Almost emotional, even.
I couldn’t manage a picture, of course. So here, instead, is a tip case from an excellent NOLA street band. The musicians are suffering, along with other performers and service workers. They’re floating in space, rather like the comet. (There.)
So sad. They need us. More important: We need them. Keep the faith.
1 kid, 5 islands, 69 days
Here's my son’s blog from an '08/09 BreakAway in the Caribbean.
1 planet, countless cultures, 120 days
In 00/01, when the internet was a pup, I went RTW and posted these words and pics en route.
