Writer's Notebook - James Rafferty Blog

A Day at Newport Jazz - 2023

Saturday, August 5, was a bright and sunny day and our group of four drove down to the Newport Jazz Festival. We hit the usual traffic, but it took quite a while before we got through security and found a spot to plunk down our chairs to the right of the Fort stage.  As we got situated, we were able to listen to the sounds of Superblue, which featured the fluid vocals of Kurt Elling. 

I stopped by a nearby food tent and picked up a tasty Mediterranean platter -- with stuffed grape leaves, lots of hummus, lightly toasted pita bread and a Greek salad.  Yum.   

Here's a view of the nearby waters on this day.  

Next up on the main stage was Charles Lloyd. He played several songs with a John Coltrane flavor on his tenor saxophone, then shifted to quieter songs where his flute reminded me of the Seventies music of Chick Corea from the Light as a Feather album.   

I then took a walk to go inside the Fort area, where Louis Cato's band was about to begin at the Quad stage.  Cato plays guitar and sings vocals.  The band began with the set with a funky talking blues.  On the second song, the rest of the band joined in to fill out a jazzy strut.  Cato's guitar solos reminded me of the long sustained lines of Robben Ford and he also liked to add a vibrato sound to his chords.  I noticed that Christian McBride's Jam Jawn group was about to begin at the Fort stage, so I headed back there.  

McBride had about eight musicians on the stage.  As I arrived, the band played the classic Afro Blue, which highlighted the strong melodic lines of Ravi Coltrane on soprano sax.  After that, McBride introduced more of the players, which included the veteran jazz pianist and composer Bob James; the band continued by playing one of his tunes, which had a funky sound that reminded me of the theme from Shaft.  Once again, Coltrane offered strong solos, this time on tenor sax.  Later, James traded off riffs with McBride and the two percussionists in the band.  A couple songs later, the up and coming vocalist Celise joined the band and sang an energetic version of "Hound Dog."  The guitarist Eric Krasno played a hard edge solo that threatened to rip a hole in the atmosphere and then McBride shifted over to the eloquent sounds of a bowed bass for his solo.  The band closed the set with soul music from James Brown.  It was amusing to see McBride ask Ravi if he was ready to got down with James Brown.  Ravi seemed to shrug his shoulders as if to say "whatever." Ravi kept it professional and did his part.  This was the first time I'd seen Ravi Coltrane play.  He truly brings life to the music and carries the Coltrane name and sound of his parents John and Alice very well.   

Here's a dimly lit glimpse of the band.  

The smaller stage areas at Newport often offer the best chances to see and hear the music up close.  A standout group was the trio led by guitarist Julian Lage. Lage played a solid body guitar and offered a very melodic style that included lots of sliding notes and even a few octave passages. The group played in tight communication with uncanny interplay.  The other band members were Joerg Roeder on upright bass and Dave King on the drum kit.  Here's a view of the band while improvising:  

I stayed by the Harbor stage and managed to get a good seat near the stage while the next group, the Orrin Evans Quintet, was setting up. I was not familiar with the group beforehand, but liked the way their music built up over the course of their set. Orrin Evans on keyboards is the band leader, but he gave the other musicians lots of space for soloing.  The front line of Ingrid Jensen on trumpet and Gary Thomas on saxophone was very strong and propelled by the powerhouse rhythm section of Luques Curtis on upright bass and drummer Mark Whitfield Jr. They wailed together on the first song and the collective sound and energy reminded me of Art Blakey's Jazz Messengers. Orrin Evans showed influences of  Herbie Hancock in his right handed chords and lines, but with a sharper edge. By the last song, which Evans dedicated to the memory of pianist Geri Allen, the band had really hit its stride.  Jensen played lyrical muted trumpet lines and Thomas switched off between flute and his sax. This was ensemble jazz at a high level where the players listened closely to each other and the music evoked the spirits of many brilliant musicians who have played here at the Newport festival. Here is a shot of the band: 

The final act of the day was Jon Batiste. His band was dressed up in flashy clothes, led by Batiste himself in a bright red suit.  For me, the early music felt like showtime from the Doc Severinsen era of the Tonight show, as the players blasted out hot solos from their instruments.  They were good, but it didn't feel very much like jazz.  Later, Batiste led the crowd in some collective vocals and got people up and moving on the grassy areas in front of the stage.  Then, Batiste changed the mood and played some delightful acoustic piano with a ragtime feel.  At the close, the band played a rousing theme and finished by stepping off the stage and playing music out in the crowd.  It was powerful and energetic, and offered a unique ending to the festival for this day.   

 

 

Connecting - Crossing to Safety

I recently returned from a unique trip to one of my favorite places, Asheville, North Carolina.  Despite all of the obstacles, my wife Cindy and I took a road trip to get there and helped our oldest son Jason pack up both his art studio and the apartment he shares with his fiance as they made plans moving to a new locale to attend graduate school in the Fall. The trip doubled as a vacation, though with lots of constraints. 

Here's a picture as we crossed the border into Tennessee and checked out their wonderful Welcome Center a few miles before we crossed into North Carolina through local mountains:  

After a 3 day ride to Asheville, we settled in at our Airbnb in West Asheville and started planning the month. Both Cindy and I had decided to do some reading during our stay and I'd brought along a couple books to read, but was open to getting more. Early on, Jason took me to one of the few bookstores that was open during this pandemic period, Mr. K's, which sells used books and CDs. The title of this post mentions connecting and here we go. In early June, A.O. Scott  published a wonderful profile about the writer Wallace Stegner, introducing him as a writer who had profiled the American West and influenced other writers, notably one of my favorites, Robert Stone. So, in Mr. K's, I went looking for a book by Stegner and found Crossing to Safety.  

Later in the month, I began reading the book and brought it back with me to Massachusetts. The novel was simply superb. Stegner published the novel late in his long career, in 1987, but the writing still felt fresh and contemporary. In the book, we meet a young couple, Larry and Sally Morgan, who are beginning a new life in Wisconsin, where Larry has gained a teaching position in the English department. Larry is also a writer and is in the early stages of getting his stories published.  They meet another young couple, Sid and Charity Lang, and the two couples find that rare experience of meeting people with whom they connect very well. Stegner writes the book from Larry's point of view and we bounce between these early scenes and others that take place some 40 years later, but the shifts aren't difficult to follow and we gradually learn so much about each of these characters and how their lives are intertwined.

I can heartily recommend the book to virtually anybody who enjoys well written prose and deep character development. But my own connection was deeper than that. The novel reminded me of why I fell in love with both reading and writing, and the aspirations many of us have when we are young to make a mark in the world and do things that matter. In this novel, all of the characters wrestle with what they want and could be and we get to see these perspectives at multiple points in their lives. There's also a remarkable chapter where all four of them journey to Florence during a period when Larry has a sabbatical and hopes to take this time to write a novel, yet they also all take some time to see the country and gain unique experiences in the Tuscan countryside.  The novel also speaks to the present moment -- the year of the pandemic -- in a sense as one of the characters falls victim to a disease common to this period, polio, and we see how this changes the lives for all of the characters.  

Noting the theme of connections, the article I read in June led to my selection of this book in July at Mr. K's and then I connected deeply with this novel during the past few weeks. Crossing to Safety is a powerful story and quite inspiring as well. It serves as a reminder to remember our dreams and what we truly value, both in our worldly or creative goals and in our relationships, and then act upon them while we still can. I look forward to reading more of Wallace Stegner's works, but he also has pushed me to carefully consider my own way forward as I continue to wrestle with life's challenges during a time of transition.       

Here's a glimpse of a rainbow that we encountered one day when we were returning to Asheville during a rainstorm, one of many inspiring moments during this one month vacation.  

 

Rolling on the Cape Cod Rail Trail

The sky is a pure blue, with bare hints of cirrus and streaks of white written by jet fuel as if viewed upon a global spectroscope. I sit at a picnic table by my hotel, beneath a canopy of twisted pine limbs and an overspread of maple and oak trees above. Across the way, I see glimpses of bicycle riders as they roll silently by. It's a Cape Cod morning and it's already been a fine day. 

My wife and I are staying for a long weekend at a hotel located strategically by the Cape Cod Rail Trail. We had a relaxing start to the day, taking in the continental breakfast offered by the hotel. Once fortified by coffee, juice and light food items such as muffins and fresh bananas, we were ready for the next step.  

I took my time and had a nice chat with a neighbor from a nearby room; like me, he has a background in the telecom world, so we briefly compared notes about the transition from that work into some form of semi-retirement. Both of us were getting ready for a bike ride, but at a leisurely pace.  

I listened to the last minutes of the Saturday edition of CBS This Morning, hearing an energetic song of gospel inflected blues rock performed by Mavis Staples and her band, and pulled together my supplies for the bike ride.  Some fifteen minutes later, I was ready. By this time, the reader may wonder, is there a point to this post or will it simply meander. To which I'd say, that's one of the joys of a visit to Cape Cod; there's no schedule, no need to rush out or, for example, to roll up 50 miles on one's bike. But yes, let's begin the tale of the bike ride. 

I got onto my bike and rode a short way on a path through the woods. Moments later, my tires hit the pavement of the path. I turned right and headed south in the direction of Orleans. I haven't been riding a lot this spring, but as I rode down the path, my leg muscles felt limber. I enjoyed picking up speed and feeling mild breezes brush against my face and legs. Just last evening, we'd experienced fierce winds at sunset, but that phase of weather had passed. Since I felt very good, I decided to push ahead and see how much ground I could cover in about twenty minutes on the trail  For those who want to track mileage. stone markers appear at every mile and identify which town you're in and how many miles you are from the start of the trail in Dennis. 

Most of my ride was in the town of Eastham. Sights include the back side of the local transfer station, which now doubles as a massive solar farm, vestiges of departed businesses such as a fully overgrown golf driving range and a diverse variety of different micro eco-systems. On my way out, I was content to move along past all of that, but planned to view the trail-side flora and fauna more closely upon my return.  So I rode and rode.  The trail wasn't too crowded.  I saw one large group of teenagers in matching tee shirts, most likely a scout troop, various walkers, the occasional jogger and of course, bikers coming to and fro. My journey continued, past some of my favorite small lakes and ponds, across numerous intersections and the miles rolled up. 

As I approached my twenty minute goal, I decided to continue until I hit a major cross street. As luck and my route would have it, I naturally hit a stretch where there were no cross streets. I continued on, but noted how the terrain had changed to a mix of swamps and green lowlands;the scent of decaying vegetation filled the air. Finally, I saw an indication of incline on the trail just ahead. I continued until I reached that point, which led onto a bridge that crossed over into the town of Orleans. I'd taken that particular ride last year, but decided It was time to stop and begin my return back. My outbound ride had expanded from twenty to twenty-six minutes. I scanned the map at trail-side; the spot I'd stopped at branched off the trail to a road that led to Rock Harbor. Years ago, this had all been part of the rail trail, but a relatively new set of bridges and interconnections built since then now totally bypasses that segue.    

As I rolled down the hill, I noticed a mile marker and pulled my bike to a stop. The mark showed I'd reached the town of Orleans: 

And so the slower and more observant return began. I soon reached a group of elder women who were taking a walk and I guessed they'd be knowledgeable about the local birds. I was right. One woman quickly identified a white bird in the nearby marsh to be an egret and another called attention to a massive nest atop a power line tower:  

The nest, atop the middle stanchion, was the home of a large Osprey. The bird itself was perched on the top of the left tower. Quite a sight and one I wouldn't have noticed on my own. I passed along my thanks, bid adieu to the women and continued down the path.  

Along the way, I saw several of the lakes and ponds I'd passed on the way out.  

By now, my muscles were getting a bit sore, but I carried on toward my goal. Near where I began, a large stone marks a distance where the trail is 100 miles from Boston.  Here's a glimpse of when I reached that point.  

After this stop, I circled back to my hotel and concluded a perfect morning by writing about the journey. If you like nature and are visiting Cape Cod, be sure to check out the wonderful Cape Cod Rail Trail.  

 

Back on the Cape Cod Rail Trail

Over this past weekend, I got re-acquainted with the Cape Cod Rail Trail, which is one of the premier bike trails on the east coast. My family first explored the trail in the Nineties, but it's changed a lot in the time since with a variety of expansions and new trail segments. After a couple of warmup runs, I decided to head from Eastham south toward Orleans and see how far I could get in a one hour round trip.  

Much of this portion of the trail runs through wooded areas, which makes riding comfortable even on a sunny day. Here's a portion of the trail in one of those wooded stretches:  

One aspect I like about bike trails converted from rail lines is the variety of the surroundings. As I rode through Eastham, on one side I passed an abandoned golf range, complete with overgrown fields and the remnants of yardage markers, interspersed amidst the backsides of local hotels, various types of construction businesses, a large workout facility and more. A half mile up the road, I recognized the local transfer station on the other side of the trail; the landfill portion has now been augmented by the addition of many solar panel arrays, which look a bit like alien invaders who decided to alight upon these manmade hills.  

A little further on, I passed a local landmark restaurant, Arnold's, which is known for its fried seafood, though other options are also available. The parking lot was packed on a Friday evening, but mostly deserted on Saturday morning.  Next, the path crosses under Route 6 and the views get more rustic as the trail veers into residential areas, but also passes by several gorgeous lakes. Here's a glimpse of a lake that visible on the left as one passes through a mix of water and wooded areas that also feature jack rabbits, chipmunks and birds flying by. 

As I got closer to Orleans, the terrain changed and miles of wetlands were visible to our right and in some cases we could see all the way to the inner coastline on the bay side of Cape Cod. Here an earthy mix of fragrances emerged from fields that sometimes get bathed in sea waters during high tides. We had learned about this phenomenon during a visit on the prior day to the Wellfleet Audubon sanctuary a few miles further north. Other fields were drier, but still extended out in undeveloped areas toward the coast.  

Eventually I came upon a portion of the path which I didn't remember from my earlier trips. At one time, as one left Eastham, the next stop on the trail was Rock Harbor, but in order to get there, bikers had to go along the side of the road. Now, the trail continues and extends over a bridge which rises above the roadways below and connects the Eastham side of the trail directly into Orleans. In Orleans, we formerly would have needed to follow roads to pick up the trail again, but now the trail is set aside from the road -- akin to a broad paved sidewalk -- and after a few stop signs and road crossings, the uninterrupted portions of the trail resume. Soon after that, I'd reached the halfway point of my trip, as my stopwatch indicated I'd been riding for a little over thirty minutes. But I felt really good to have reached Orleans and connected with this new portion of the path.  

I turned around and after a short break, resumed my ride for the return trip. I decided to lighten up the pace and kept my eye out for scenes to photograph, some of which I've shown here. I also discovered that the path to Rock Harbor was still available, but was now off of the main bike path.  

By the time I returned to my starting point in Eastham, I'd been riding for just over an hour. I decided to go just a little bit further north. At one time, trains from Boston actually ran on the tracks which have now been replaced by the trail. Here is the stone that marks the one hundred mile distance from Boston.   

The Cape Cod Rail Trail has changed some over the years, but still provides an incomparable view of Cape Cod's many and varied terrains as one rides from mile to mile upon this paved path.  

Walking in Asheville

This past week, I spent several days visiting Asheville, North Carolina. It's a great city for walking and I stayed in an apartment which wasn't too far from the downtown. I found myself taking long walks on most days, either in the city or nearby. On my first full day, the rains came. Merrimon Avenue filled with water on either side and I decided to wait out the storm in a fine music store called the Musician's Workshop. I tried out an Ibanez hollow body electric guitar and messed around with a crazy pedal called Superego + that had multiple effects and even allowed overlays of one effect on another. It was fun, but really getting the most out of this kind of effects pedal would take more time than I currently have. Maybe someday. 

When I looked up, the rain had stopped and I decided to take a walk at the Botanical Center right next to UNC Asheville just down the road. Normally, a quiet stream curls through the center, but not on this day. Here's a glimpse of the churning brown waters of the stream that afternoon. 

The next day, I walked into downtown late in the morning. Most of the trees in town were still green, but here's an exception I saw along the way walking on Broadway.  

My favorite stop in downtown is the Malaprop's bookstore. This week I had a gift card at the store, so I had the luxury of browsing through titles in various sections of the store.  I did my research on one day, then bought the books on another day.  I like science fiction books, so I looked at those possibilities, but I also checked out books of regional interest and the general fiction area as well. The store is replete with other sections such as Banned Books and Staff Picks, so those books are also worth checking out. On prior visits, I had seen books such as 1984 and the Just Kids memoir from Patti Smith that I later read.  

But since it was lunchtime, I walked downhill toward the Green Sage on Broadway. This restaurant has great coffee and tea selections, and also has innovative fare for lunch or breakfast.  On this day, the temperatures had dropped a bit, so I wanted a lunch with both hot and filling foods. After asking a few questions when I got to the head of the queue, I made my selections and they were brought to my table a few minutes later. My sandwich was called a Rainbow Wrap and its mix of veggies included beets, carrots, lettuce and alfalfa sprouts, augmented by olives and small hunks of feta. Very tasty. My soup was intriguing and warm -- lentils served in a curry-based soup.  The piece de resistance was a spicy chai cider which brought the rest of the meal together and whose hot spicy taste felt like a pure burst of autumn. Green Sage is a magnet for a diverse group of people -- single, couples or in groups -- and ages ranging from students to retirees. Across the street, a new building is being erected, which will house a mix of condos and hotel rooms; the city continues to evolve from the one I first encountered about 8 years ago, with a big push toward providing more rooms in and around the downtown. 

Later on the trip, I took a ride up into the hills of the Blue Ridge Parkway. Asheville has beautiful views even from the downtown, but it's magnified up on the parkway. Here's a couple glimpses of what I saw:  

 

 Back in Asheville, one can encounter some surprising sights. Here's the side of the original Moog studio off of Broadway:  

 Whether it's music, books, food, wine. beer or the outdoors, it seems there's always another adventure lurking around the corner in Asheville.  

Return to the Cape

This past weekend, my wife Cindy and I returned to the Cape Cod to celebrate our 28th anniversary. Our Cape history goes back to the early years of our marriage and it's always been a special place for us. Richard Russo wrote a novel called Cape Cod Magic and truly it's always felt that way to us. Going to the Cape brings back old memories, but there's often new bits of experience in store. 

After a scrumptious seafood lunch at Seafood Sam's on the Sandwich side of the canal, I dropped Cindy at a local beach and strode back up a hump-backed boardwalk to my car. A few young men in white shirts and ties were unloading a truck and I wondered what that was all about. I'd find out later. I'm not much of a beach person, so I drove to the nearby Sandwich village and stopped in at the local library. Outside I saw this stone plaque in the shape off a book. 

The inscription had always been a favorite of the pastor at our church and it was a reminder that we all have choices about how we spend our time now and going forward. I relaxed with a favorite pursuit - reading in the library for a while - and recharged my phone. Then I set out on walk through the village. For about five years, some close friends had lived in Sandwich. It's a classic New England village, replete with homes that go back over 150 years, cute cafes and a cornucopia of bushes, beach grasses, and other greenery filling the  nooks and crannies between houses and shops. At one time, Sandwich connected dIrectly to the mainland before the canal was dredged and along my walk, I saw this stone which dated from that earlier time.  

 

 A while later I returned to the beach. As I again followed the boardwalk to the beach, I encountered an attractive, young woman in a open-backed, white dress accompanied by several other young women in light tan outfits -- a bridal party. Just ahead on the beach, a crowd had gathered by the water.  I found my wife about 100 yards further down the beach and we watched briefly as the wedding ceremony began. Just another bit of that Cape Cod magic.   

We drove up the Cape to our hotel in Wellfleet. A while later, we donned our swim suits and swam in an outdoor pool whose waters had been warmed using an array of solar panels. Our stay at the Cape had begun. We had a fine meal that evening at Van Rensselaer's a few miles down the road, which began with the local specialty -- fresh Wellfleet oysters. The rest of the meal was equally good and we began to settle in for a fun weekend. 

The next morning, we took to the bike path. The Cape Cod Rail Trail extends from Dennis to Wellfleet, so we were on the final portion heading up toward Marconi Beach.  Here's a look at a view of the bay side looking out from the trail:  

I'll close this post with a view of the bike trail itself looking towards it terminus. We'd been on the Cape less than a day, but we were already much more relaxed as we let the beauty of the outdoors weave its spell upon us. 

 

 

 

 

 

Remembrance of Paddy

The summons came in the late Fall around 2007. You're invited to breakfast. My wife Cindy and I had been asked to breakfast by our neighbor, Paddy Wazan. Paddy and her husband Hank lived in a unique house across the street, a contemporary built during the Sixties to Hank's specifications, complete with a classic New England living room and a garden one could see through the glass behind the dining area in the middle of the house.  On this morning, we weren't the only guests; another couple from in town had also been invited.  We all sat around the breakfast table, which filled with vivid conversations, fueled by wonderful aromas coming from the kitchen. Soon a brunch was served -- replete with eggs, pastries, bacon, fruit, strong coffee and juice. We hadn't seen Paddy very much since we'd moved onto the street, since she spent her summers in Nantucket and would come back to our town of Norfolk for the winters. Paddy had loads of energy and loved hosting guests and cooking delicious meals. Hank was a quiet man, but loved doing projects and had a background in architecture.  They were a generation older than us, but good neighbors.  

As I write this, another nine years have elapsed and so much has happened since then. This was one of our early introductions to Paddy, but we got a glimpse of her vitality and artistry in the kitchen during that breakfast and on other occasions where she would host groups large and small. In 2009, all of this changed. Hank was diagnosed with cancer and within weeks he had passed. Paddy came back from Nantucket and had to re-build her life without having her beloved Hank by her side. The sad occasion brought our families closer together, as Cindy helped Paddy get organized when she decided to sell the house in Norfolk and I would help Paddy with whatever computer needs she had. 

In time, the Norfolk house was sold, but we soon received the first of many invites to her new abode, a two-story apartment in Wellesley. She would get in touch with Cindy and we take the jaunt across a few towns to her place. Food was a common theme; she always seemed to have a delicious meal waiting for us. She had also struck up a relationship with our son Jason and their fifty some year age difference didn't stop them from becoming fast friends. 

Paddy loved to travel and would regale us with tales of her trips to places like Australia and Japan. Over time, she'd met people from all over the world and was quick to make a plan and take a trip to see these far flung friends.  As she got to know Jason better, she insisted that she would make a visit to see him in his adopted town of Asheville, North Carolina, where he was studying at the local college UNC at Asheville and producing remarkable art. So, in the fall of 2011, our family made plans to visit Jason in Asheville and Paddy arranged to visit during the same time period, just a few days before Thanksgiving.  

Thanksgiving that year was special. We all arrived at Jason's house in West Asheville, which he shared with three roommates from UNCA and immediately got to work cleaning and making preparations for the Thanksgiving feast. Paddy was a guest, but she had definite ideas about what food we would need and we got a few additional provisions at a supermarket down the street. Paddy took command of the process of cooking the bird and she had several other ideas about what needed to go with it. I can remember sitting on the porch in a rocking chair and smelling the enticing mix of foods, both traditional and vegetarian. Later we all sat down for the meal and it was one of the best ones in our memory, as Paddy had worked her culinary magic in a strange kitchen and produced a delicious and diverse meal.

During the next year, Paddy invited us to visit her on Nantucket, so Jason, Cindy and I hopped on a ferry from Hyannis and took our first voyage to Nantucket. Nantucket is an amazing place and we found that Paddy had a charming two story apartment she called the Snuggery hear the harbor. We were staying at a bed and breakfast place nearby, but passed on the regular breakfast to join Paddy for a shared meal at her home. Over the weekend, Paddy took us all around Nantucket and we had a fabulous time.  Here is a picture of Paddy with Cindy and Jason on the beach.  

 Our family had many other fine visits with Paddy over these years.  Whether we were meeting at her apartment for brunch or sharing a lunch at a local seafood restaurant, there was always much to talk about. Paddy tended to be feisty and unstoppable. She had the occasional health issue, but exhibited marvelous resilience and came back from many challenges and then would set out to yet another destination. Last winter we met at her house and she told us about a planned trip to Africa. A few months later, she came back and told us about it; she'd gone on safari and seen so much else on a trip to South Africa.  

We were looking forward to seeing her again when she came back to Wellesley in the late Fall, but heard unfortunate news in mid-October. She'd had a relapse in a bout with cancer and was flown back from Nantucket to a Boston hospital. After so many times of pushing back illnesses and other incidents, she'd finally reached a point where she was beyond treatment. She did return to her home in Wellesley under hospice care and she said her goodbyes over a couple of weeks. She passed away about a week ago and we attended her memorial service and a reception yesterday.  Friends and family gathered, and we all told stories about her, the many times we had met and about her unrelenting zest for life. Paddy will be missed, but will also live on in our memories as a treasured friend and remarkable example of a well-lived life. One of her friends called her "the hostess with the mostest." Yes. Here is a picture of Paddy with Cindy and Jason in front of her Nantucket apartment. Au revoir dear friend.  

Asheville Changes

I came back to Asheville, North Carolina for a one week visit after several years away. In the time since my last visit in 2012, the city has continued to evolve. My son is active in the River Arts District, which is adjacent to the French Broad River a little bit south of downtown and there's been numerous changes down there.  The working studios have spread out and are now being joined by other neighbors such as massive breweries.  Touchstones from prior years such as a mural at Cotton Mill Studios are now gone, but other sights have replaced them. Here's some new outdoor art that is decorating walls and a water tower near the western edge of the district.  

 

As I write this, my streaming Pandora station is playing a jazzy rendition of the song You Can't Go Home Again, which is the title of the last novel by Asheville's most famous writer, Thomas Wolfe. Serendipity, a wonderful notion, sometimes realized.

Another major change is the emergence of Asheville as a leader in the brewing of craft beers.  The other night, we checked out the Burial Brewing Company on the South Slope of downtown. This area, a former bastion of warehouses and empty buildings, is now rapidly expanding to include a variety of different options for one''s beer drinking pleasure.  On that evening, I tried a Kolsch and a Pilsner from local brewers, and these were some of the less exotic choices; the ever changing menu included information about size options -- 8 oz is a good tasting size, particularly if you want to try multiples -- as well as alcohol content.  

Happily, Asheville is still a go-to spot for finding wonderful bookstores, a wide variety of cuisines and much more.  I'll write more about that in my next post.   

Excursion to Squam Lake

This week my wife and I returned to an area we had enjoyed in the past -- Squam Lake in Holderness, New Hampshire.  Squam Lake is part of the state's Lakes Region, but not nearly as well known as Lake Winnipesaukee, the large body of water which is a bit further south.  

The main reasons why Squam Lake is less well known are due to its mostly private nature. We got to hear that story while taking a 90 minute boat ride on the lake.  Here is what we saw where the inlet opens up to the broader expanse of the lake:

 

Squam Lake is massive -- about 10 square miles -- running about seven miles from south to north, and about four and one half miles in width.  We entered at the northwest corner, adjacent to the small town center of Holderness.  By contrast, Lake Winnipesaukee is about seven times as large as Squam, but Squam is still the second largest lake in New England. However, Winnipesaukee is a mish-mash ranging from crazy over-development in some areas to tightly zoned sections in towns and villages such as Wolfeboro and Melvin Village.  

Squam Lake is totally different. There is virtually no commercial development on the lake, with the exception of a few hotels and a couple of restaurants in Holderness. Over 100 years ago, 4 families owned most of the property around the lake and they set in motion a set of agreements which has kept the lake lightly developed. Squam also has rules governing color schemes permitted for lakeside houses -- earthtones and similar shades please -- and has a strong focus on preserving the natural character of the lake.  As a result, the lake is home to a thriving loon population -- about 15 nesting pairs -- as well as hosting Bald Eagles.  We saw several loons and a pair of eagles during our boat ride.  

Here is another view which we saw looking north toward the White Mountains. The nearby peak is West Rattlesnake and is accessible via a hiking trail which our family had enjoyed on a previous visit.  

Squam is also dotted by numerous islands, only a few of which have amenities such as electricity. For example, our guide drove us by one island which is set up with pews and is used for non-denominational services during the summertime.  All attendees need to arrive by boat.  We also saw small islands that included features such as an eagle's nest and a loon breeding area.  Some islands also had houses, but more typically, all one saw were pine trees. One surprising fact was that there are enough residents without electricity so that a local business provides and transports fresh ice to load up ice boxes at some island homes.   

By midday on this day, the temperatures were in the range of 80 degrees F (27 degrees C), but a light breeze and low humidity kept it comfortable. Our tour guide told us stories about the prominent families who founded and still own property here such as the Coolidges (former President Calvin is the best known).  The lake also gained a bit of notoriety in 1980 when a film crew arrived and shot On Golden Pond, starring cinema legends Henry Fonda and Katherine Hepburn.  Our tour included several spots featured in the movie and our guide told a few tales of how Hollywood adapted the natural features of the lake for the purposes of the story.  

As we returned, it became clear that the northwest corner from which we departed is much more dense in housing than the rest of the lake. New Hampshire now has laws prohibiting boat houses that extend onto the water, but older structures were grandfathered in and we saw numerous examples of the older style boat houses as well as the boats which they protected.  

At the end of the tour, we slipped under the roadway and entered Little Squam, a smaller body of water which is connected to the larger lake only by a narrow causeway, and our tour came to an end.  The tour was conducted by the nearby Squam Lake Natural Science Center, which is located just north of the lake.  The science center conducts a variety of lake tours and also has its own outdoor attractions.  On this day, we opted only for the boat tour, but our family had a good experience at the science center itself several years back.  

Afterward, we settled in for sandwiches at Walter's Basin overlooking and weren't disappointed. Soon after that, we took a leisurely ride back to Wolfeboro -- our vacation spot for the week -- with a few stops along the way. Our day trip gave us a fresh taste of one of New Hampshire's most unique and charming locales - Squam Lake.        

Book Review - That Old Cape Magic

I just finished That Old Cape Magic by Richard Russo. It's a book which intersects with my own experiences in a few ways. I first started thumbing through this book a few years on a stormy Columbus Day weekend in Brewster, shortly after it was first published in hard cover.  Russo's novel centers on the story of a small family -- a couple of university professors with a single son -- and their yearly experience with Cape Cod. They love the Cape, but it never quite lives up to their expections. Nonetheless, they kept coming back year after year.  

My own family has it's own experiences with the Cape.  My first visit was when I was about 12 and the family took a ride up north while on a stay with relatives. We drove all the way up to Provincetown and walked around Commercial Street downtown.  Some ten years later I returned to P-town and it had become a much different place -- quite outre compared to my home town in Connecticut, but fascinating to watch. But Provincetown is just a single community on the Cape and we found others that were much more comfortable for us when I returned some 15 years later with my own small family.  And I'd say that's one of the things that gives the Cape a kind of magic. I suspect every visiting family has its own version of the Cape which acts like a magnet and draws them back year after year.  

In the novel, Jack Griffin is visiting the Cape to attend a wedding, but just crossing the Sagamore Bridge brings back a fusillade of memories about his parents and their dysfunctional relationship. His elderly Dad had died recently, but Jack's mother is still only a phone call away and is quick to offer a caustic critique about Jack's own marriage to his wife Joy and her extended family. The novel shifts between the current day and all of those memories. We learn that Jack's own marriage is on shaky ground.  Can two people from radically different families manage to bury all of those differences and wind their own way through life together?  Russo explores this theme in real time with Jack and Joy, but by extension we dip back into the years before and watch as the relationship of his parents goes through its own twists and turns.  

Russo makes the reader work, but we do learn to care about these characters and their attempts to  live a life that's meaningful even as some of their dreams fall apart. We can learn a lot about our spouses by watching their parents and Russo forces the reader to take a hard look at Jack's parents and the differences between them and Joy's bouyant parents Harve and Jill.  

The novel lurches ahead with its own momentum, framed by two weddings -- one held on the Cape and one in Southern Maine.  And by the end, we are willing to suspend disbelief and agree that the old Cape does exert a kind of magic that mends lives in mysterious ways.   

This book isn't for everybody. The constant flashbacks and interaction between Jack and the voices in his head require close reading to follow.  But the setting on the Cape and in Maine draws us in and Russo interweaving narrative eventually tells us a lot about these people and their stories. As a writer, I like it when an author conveys a real sense of place and we can smell the salt air of the Cape as Russo's characters move from place to place.