Bring Back Big Hair

Okay, the real reason for driving 250 miles north last weekend... was to attend this fleeting occasion called a reunion. Dare I admit this was our 20th year since graduating from Red Raiders high school? Nobody looked a day over 18 years, in my opinion.

With slightly over 230 people in our 1989 graduating class it was easy to forget names. I did so twice with pals who went through some kind of curious metamorphosis growing old. Though my friends and I part company when it comes to marriage and kids, the one thing we do agree on, the one thing that binds us as 1980's relics, is not the Moonwalk or Molly Ringwald or parachute pants - it's big hair!

Yes, there's nothing missed more fondly during a decade of self-indulgence and glam than big hair. And, with any luck and enough talk, we might all be sporting big hair at the 40 year reunion... I can only hope.

Civil War Reenactment on Barnhart Island

While visiting the folks this weekend, a Civil War Reenactment took place on Barnhart Island, part of the Robert Moses State Park. This is where I did most of my tenting as a kid, later replaced by a pop-up camper that Dad dragged behind our pickup.

Gophers and white-tailed deer roam free between picnic tables and sandy beaches on Barhart Island. Here you can shove off in a sail boat at the marina or visit the international hydroelectric facility called the Robert Moses Power Dam. It produces some of the cleanest and cheapest power in North America, 2/3 of which is piped directly to Manhattan.

We arrived late Sunday but got to see plenty of the Reenactment during the last hour of the event. Living history came alive through staged battles, cannon and artillery fire and simple white tents for the Union and Confederate actors. I nearly lost my hearing getting these close-ups.

Civil War reenactments are common up and down the Hudson but I thought it was unique to see them so far north. Then I learned that nearly 5,000 St. Lawrence County residents fought the slave states in 1863. That reminded me of the muzzle-loaded musket that I have hanging above my gas fireplace, a family heirloom handed down from generation to generation.

We'll have to come back again next year because we missed Lincoln's Gettysburg Address, delivered by a 6'4" man from Utica with an uncanny resemblance for the real Abe. He introduced me to his White House on wheels, a motor-home that takes him all over the country to perform these gigs, as well as his wife who plays Mary Todd on occasion.

Giddy Up to St. Lawrence County

I knew I was getting close to home on Friday when I saw them galloping at me down Route 420. The Amish still make their way in the world with horse and buggy and St. Lawrence County, NY, has more than most.

I never gave these traditional folks the respect they deserve when I was driving stick-shift on these country roads in my teens. I would blast by them spraying up water, dirt and gravel, probably frightening the wits out of the poor horses. Now, I promptly come to a turtle crawl marveling at their simple living and resistance to modern conveniences.

How they can continue to live a life of separation from evolving technologies deserves veneration. Nobody works harder for so little.

Soggy Summers are Still Fun

"Rain, rain go away..." so said the kids that I grew up with, but not at this camp on Schroon Lake in the Adirondacks. My Weather Channel meteorologist friend (you may know Kelly Boland/Cass?) and her tiny tykes swam like fish despite the deluge this weekend.

The water was warmer than the air but I resisted joining in and took shots from the dock instead. Her middle fish, weighting in at no more than 50 pounds, even dropped a waterski as we blasted around the lake in Jerry's boat. She joins the ranks of a long lineage of slalom skiers, both in the water and on the mountains.

Brian Dennehy Narrates the Via Papale

The "Via Papale - the Lost Road of the Popes" is a documentary I shot in Rome, Italy, a couple years back. It's finally making it to theaters but I have no details on where or when. My TU and GoNomad audience will be the first to know when I do find out. The doc is narrated by Emmy-nominated and Tony award winner, actor Brian Dennehy. Here's a little summary of the full feature story:

Beginning with a city in ruin, the Pope under arrest, and Catholicism under seige, Lost Road of the Popes is the untold story of the "lost" road on which 16th century Rome and its Church made the most profound urban and religious comeback in history.

In little more than a lifetime, fueled by their faith, wealth and mission, the story follows the lives of six powerful Popes and their family dynasties and how they take on the task of first rebuilding, then glorifying, the new Rome. They have separate agendas, separate allegiances, and separate fortunes, but one thing in common: the need to build their legacies at Romes most visible, important address: along the road of the Popes and route of Papal processions, known as the Via Papale.

The Via Papale unfolds the miracle of this remarkable renaissance. How Rome and its Papal rulers not only survived, but were inspired by a Holy road to create the magnificent monuments, churches, art and architecture that defines the city's skyline today. And why that once powerful road has been forgotten.

We Interrupt this Broadcast

What I remember most about Walter Cronkite is getting shushed by Dad as soon as the Evening News came on when I was a child.

"Hush up, the news is on!" he would shout. My little sister could care less and flew to the bedroom. I, instead, put a sock in it and stayed and watched. We got our news from a snowy black and white RCA with long rabbit ears and a noisy dial. But rapt attention was given to it as soon as Walter appeared.

It was 1977 and at 7 yrs old, not only did I recognize Walters voice better than my own teachers but Dad, knowingly or not, instilled in me an admiration for quality broadcasting, maybe even precipitating a future career in that direction.

I wasn't alive during most of the iconic reporting Walter did; shocking events like President John F. Kennedy's assassination or the Vietnam documentary or play-by-play of the Apollo 11 mission. It wouldn't be until much later that I'd learn that I was watching Walter broker a peace agreement between Sadat and Begin or mourn the passing of Elvis or report on the eradication of the smallpox virus.

When I now watch YouTube reruns of CBS Evening News in the seventies I have to laugh at halo chroma keys, cartoonish weather maps and stick mics without ID flags. The production levels may have been poor but the writing standards were never higher and... that's the way it was.

Talking Moose Meat

The Honest Weight Food Coop and the Linda Norris Auditorium (WAMC's Performing Arts Studio) put together a wonderful combination of film and food last night.

A long table was dressed with colorful pint-sized appetizers like blueberries mixed with yogurt, granola and a sprig of fresh mint and wholesome crackers stacked with smoked lox, cream cheese and capers. Deb and I could have made a meal of both had it not been for a pizza slice next door.

Before the show coordinators encouraged an auditorium of about 70 people to jump up during the screening and fill their plates. Even the rows were widened so that people could reach the fresh fruits and veggies comfortably.

The documentary "Eating Alaska," was about a vegetarian who marries and moves to the final frontier and learns to fish, hunt, skin and cook meat. After the 90-minute flick, a panel of 2 Schoharie County farmers and 1 local author answered questions from the audience.

The movie's underlying themes addressed the importance of buying local, consuming less and respecting nature. The story is told through the direction and humor of 48-year old director/producer Ellen Frankenstein. She does a wonderful job portraying diverse female protagonists who advocate for safe, healthy, meaningful, and sustainable food options. Some are vegan, some are vegetarians but most are carnivore who go to great lengths to secure a clean kill of caribou, elk, goat or deer.

There were moments in the film that bugged me like when Frankenstein's self-proclaimed environmental husband Spencer sells Pacific sea cucumbers to Asia for profit or when overweight tenth graders baked fatty pretzels during home-ec. But truthful documentaries need to show conflicting parallels even in the most well-intentioned eco-minded, like Spencer, to understand the complexity of a globalized food industry.

Deb and I left there talking moose meat while enjoying free berries and Saratoga mineral water. The next showing of Food for Thought, an evening of socially relevant cinema is August 20th called "Neighbor by Neighbor."

Housemates Are Like Shooting Stars

While driving back from NYC I saw a shooting star. It streaked across the sky in a fury with a tail ablaze in an orange and red inferno. Last night's clear skies were perfect for catching a fleeting meteor, comet or asteroid.

While I clocked in at 76 mph, this streak of light was moving faster than the Earth's velocity around the Sun, roughly eighteen miles per second. Sporadic showers are more common between July and December so I keep my eyes pierced for all kinds of celestial debris. Rarely do I see a fireball this close though.

I nearly pulled over when I saw it. It looked as if it was going to crash headfirst into the woods to my right. It lasted more than a second, I'm guessing 5 or 6 seconds. My trusty Nikon sits on the passengers seat waiting for phenomena like this, but had I lunged for it I would have missed the show, or lost control of the lane I was in.

Catching a rare sighting in the vacuous heavens always triggers introspective and reflection during these long and tedious drives back from Manhattan. Mortality is first on the list. Just as ephemeral as this universal fireball so are the lives of family, friends and my fading furry head dog Rocco.

Nobody I know died (thank God) but loosing both my housemates (and good friends) to a house purchase and a job switch this month is nearly as troubling. The obligatory search to fill my home with responsible tenants is a frustrating and daunting challenge. Nearly 10 years of interviewing perspective housemates to live with and you'd think this wouldn't cause so much consternation but sharing space with a stranger is no easy task, at least in the beginning.

If any of my readers are looking to cohabitate with a scruffy Golden and a world traveler in the quiet suburbs of Bethlehem, check out Craigslist and follow up before the end of summer.

Biking the Alcove Reservoir

Last week Nola took me on a 50-mile bike ride up, down and around Thatcher Park from Selkirk. I've done it before but not with Nola, the Superhuman 63-year old I try and often fail to keep up with.

Today we did more of the same but with a gal by the name of Tess to help lighten the load. We hurried up Route 32, through a detour, past the beginning of the Albany Alcove and finally a swift left onto Henry Road.

That's when traffic eased up and the three of us could easily bike side-by-side at a pace that afforded a conversation. We talked about Lance Armstrong's three week race and all nine grueling stages he and others endure. Given I ride an ancient 15-year old Schwinn Hybrid our rolling route felt like the Pyrenees to me.

Like last Sunday at Thatcher Park, my calves burned, back ached and sweat filled up sunglasses. But complain I didn't dare, not when my attention was diverted away by old beautiful stone homes, working farms, picturesque barns and tall silos. I even caught a glimpse of a historical marker of a fallen Tannery from 1834.

Tess and Nola barely broke a sweat past all this, with their skinny tires and sleek water backpacks.

Newry road lead into Sunset road that lead into the town of Alcove. A little General Store and Post office were our first commercial sightings in 2 hours. Back onto State Route 143 and past a gigantic pool of crystal blue water, the Albany Reservoir we peddled. FYI: In 2007, Albany water won first prize as the best tasting drinking water in New York State.

Desperate for a dip in the Reservoir we wisely agreed not to trigger the authorities and pressed on. Hunger struck and I insisted on stopping and sharing my fruit cup.

2 scaried deer jumped in our path and tore into the woods. On Onesquethaw Creek road a local farm stand was selling freshly picked sweet corn. Nola and I scraped up enough loose change for 2 ears each. Toting my Red Cross backpack wasn't in vain after all.

Next Sunday we'll do the same, another 40-50 miles in an effort to stay in shape and enjoy the Southern Albany region. But beyond everybody's earshot is one hell of a potty-mouth ascending hills with pure dread. By September that better change!

Blistering Ballads on the Hudson

"To be Irish is to be political!" said Irish Rocker lead singer Larry Kirwan.

His outspoken Celtic band Black 47 played a killer set along the Hudson river at Albany's Alive at 5 yesterday evening. Thousands crowded the lawn and pavilion with blankets and green t-shirts.

I adore Black 47 for their seething political commentary. Their 2008 album "Iraq" are songs in steadfast opposition to the war since before the invasion.

Miho and I waited for our favorites like "James Connolly" or "Funky Ceili" but enjoyed the new stuff like "Downtown Baghdad Blues", "Sadr City," and "Ramadi," an emotional tribute to a young US soldier fighting for his life on the bloody streets but obsessed with his girlfriend's loyalty back in the states.

Inspiration for the play list came from actual stories and interviews with troops returning from duty. In the audience, several fans held up their fists in defiance to Iraq and support of revolution.

“Because of our background, we've always had a strong fan base of right wing cops, firemen and conservatives, as well left wing students, radicals, and the working disaffected; neither side has been afraid to vent its views,” Kirwan said.

Yarn takes Mountain Stage in the Adirondacks

Newgrass, bluegrass, alt-country, whatever you want to call it, Yarn knows good music. But rather than emerge from Nashville the band was hatched on the crowded streets of Brooklyn 3 years ago. They performed last night at Sheppards Park in Lake George while a bunch of us videotaped the show for a pending tv program.

The weather held off most of the evening but had is poured I doubt anybody would have left. A crowd of about 200 stomped their feet and shook their booty to mandolins, guitars, sax and a wicked percussionists.

A few weeks ago the 7-piece band performed on West Virginia's Mountain Stage radio show with originals from their "Empty Pockets" album. The album features guest appearances by Edie Brickell and Caitlin Cary of Whiskeytown. Check your local NPR station this weekend (July 10th - 12th) and enjoy the all-Americana set.

Keep close tabs on these vocal boys. They won the 7th Annual Independent Music Awards last year and recently were honored with eight first round 2009 GRAMMY® nominations.

Jamming Session with Friends

To celebrate the 4th, my neighbor, Folk Singer, Gloria Jean and her husband, a Master Craftsman of acoustic guitars, had a party. Nothing fancy, just all the best pickers and grinners from the Capital Region including acoustic bass player, Dick Kniss of "Peter, Paul and Mary."

The eight of them played time-honored favorites by John Denver, Woody Guthrie, Bob Dylan and Pete Seeger. They played outdoors letting the sweet sounds of their talent waft through the woods for others to enjoy. It was magical.

There's something so incredibly soothing listening to custom-built six strings make melodies around a crackling fire. It doesn't matter the mood your in, or even if there are stars in the sky, after listening to happy hippies hug mahogany and rosewood for an hour, all is right with the world. I could have enjoyed the jamming journey all evening.

Gloria's band "All-She-Wrote" has been playing arts and crafts festivals and coffee houses like Caffè Lena in Saratoga Springs since the 1980s. Her tunes can be heard on radio stations and special NPR broadcasts throughout the country.

Toss a Ball, Dunk a Boy

A neighboring development here in Bethlehem welcomed kids from all over to enjoy July 4th fun while it still stayed sunny this morning. Before the bouncy bounce and climbing wall, kids paraded behind a Delmar Firetruck with ribbons and flags tied to their ten speeds.

Rocco and I were out for our daily walk when we stopped to sniff out a table of painted cupcakes and cookies. Earlier we walked the Delmar Farmers market at the Junior High School in search of ripe tomatoes. At the townhall, Bethlehem officials read a passage from the Declaration of Independence to a small group of boy scouts and nursing home retirees.

So, being back in Suburbia isn't that bad. I keep applying bug spray for no reason and checking for moose in my rear-view mirror. But, it's especially nice to back in the states to celebrate our independence.

The Oldest Female Survivor and More

And finally...the winners (survivors) of the 11th annual Yukon River Quest.

Mistaken Identity on the YRQ

These 2 friendly Germans, on holiday until September, shadowed me at the Carmacks resting area during the Yukon River Quest. Their stopping in Carmacks was a very comical misunderstanding.

They had been canoeing the Yukon River with their own canoe and on their own time when they got caught up in the race and were mistaken as a registered team by YRQ officials.

As they paddled closer to the mandatory Carmacks stop, several officials demanded they pull over and register in. Being German, speaking German and not familiar with Yukon rules, they promptly did as they were told. As they were emptying their canoe, not knowing why, one of the support guys asked,

"Hey, what the hell are you guys doing with a fishing pole in your canoe?"

In a broken accent, the younger of the two troubled youths responded, "To catch zee fish vith, Zir." The race official was still confused but hauled their canoe up the hill nevertheless.

Later, much later, the true identity of these 2 hapless Germans was discovered but by then they enjoyed the comforts of a fresh meal, shower and new found friends.

Big Game in the Yukon

Before I got back from the Yukon the other day I finally got a shot of a Black Bear. He lumbered across Route 2 on my way back from Dawson City to Whitehorse. He or she was in no hurry to get to the other side and stopped to look back at us once or twice.

I was hoping for a Grizzly, the bigger and scarier of the two, but I'm delighted with this big fellow. Earlier I missed a shot at a moose that high-tailed it into the dense bush before I could grab my Nikon.

Other wild animals in the Yukon include caribou, elk, mountain goat and sheep, bison, wolf, mule deer, polar bear, muskox and cougar. Most of these animals, wisely, stay away from the limited number of roads in the Yukon.