Monthly Archives: July 2019

Southbound

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Moving is a lot of work. Transitioning stuff 50 miles might not seem like much, but it is.

The last time we made a major move, we sold a house we’d been in for 26 years. We found a place we thought would be a good placeholder until we figured out whether we wanted to own another home.

Then, less than two months later, the floor of our lives opened-up: Mark was killed.

Living in Brunswick was tarnished. It became a place where we experienced the horror of losing our son. I guess the house by the cove was as good a place as any to grieve and deal with our loss.

Brunswick is a nice community. Mary always loved their farmers’ market. Curtis Memorial is a terrific library. I enjoyed downtown, visits to Wild Oats, and walking around town with my friend, Paul.

I also found living outside of town lonely and isolating—not as much as Durham, but Brunswick never felt like home for me.

In 2015, I stumbled upon what was beginning to ripple in downtown Biddeford. I ended up pitching a story and ultimately writing one about city’s mills and their redevelopment for the Boston Globe. I was proud of my work.

When we began actively looking to buy a house, Portland was too expensive. There were also things about Portland that I’ve never loved. We broadened our geographic horizons and began in earnest to look in Westbrook, then Saco, and eventually, Biddeford. Westbrook did nothing for either of us. Saco is a nice community, but we found a place we both liked in Biddeford.

Biddeford’s downtown has really blossomed. Some have taken to calling it, “the Biddessance.” I like that. Continue reading →

Moon Shots

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Tomorrow is the 50th anniversary of the moon landing. Being old enough, I can actually say I was alive when it happened. I don’t remember much about it, though.

I imagine it was a topic of conversation in the house where I grew up. Did my parents watch it on their black and white television console? I don’t know.

This summer, I’m more apt to learn about current events from music, or related to the music I am listening to. I think it beat my former method of news consumption, relying on cable’s 24/7 cycles and never-ending Trump coverage.

Most Fridays (at least for a few more weeks), I’m usually at home, streaming Jon Bernhardt’s “Breakfast of Champions” slot on WMBR. I don’t know Jon, but by the kind of music he programs, I’m guessing we both have an affinity for mid-90s indie and that our interests in current bands/artists is informed by that period of time. I could be wrong.

Bernhardt featured a compilation called, The Moon and Back: One Small Step for Global Pop, along with a host of other songs related to the moon shot. Like most of his shows revolving around a theme, it was pretty cool, coming from a former DJ who took pride in putting together a radio show back in the day. A few songs into the show’s setlist, I figured out that there must be an anniversary related to the first landing on the moon.

The compilation tracks I’ve heard thus far are really good. I especially like The Nameless Book’s “AS-506” (track #13).

Along with the music, I found this article that I thought was well-written. It delves into why we fixate on things from the past and get all “geeked out” about anniversaries like these. The past does actually matter. Who knew?

I’m a bit like Larry Norman when it comes to celebrating the moon landing and nostalgia about it. Back in 1969, Norman was non-plussed about it and wrote “The Great American Novel” that touched on the waste or resources that the moon launch represented. Norman’s song creates a snapshot of that time that in my opinion is as powerful as anything Dylan wrote about the late 1960s. Unless you ran in Xian rock circles like I did for a time, you probably don’t know his music. Norman launches it with this line:

I was born and raised an orphan in a land that once was free
In a land that poured its love out on the moon

He goes on from there to offer a critique of a country that still gets its priorities upside-down, or worse.

Changing Shifts

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I’m going to miss swimming at the Bath Y. For more than three years, I’ve driven north on Route 1 to Bath to swim. Swimming has been one of a few things that kept me centered during the most difficult period of my life, both emotionally, and a year ago, when my SI joint flared-up.

For the past year, I’ve tried to swim three mornings a week. I’m usually there Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I tend to arrive after 6:00 (the pool opens at 5:00 a.m.), which allows me to get up at 4:45, have a cup of coffee, watch the weather with Mary, and then throw my bag in the backseat and make the 12-minute drive from where we’ve been living in Brunswick.

My arrival usually corresponds with a “shift change” of sorts. The group that arrives when the facility opens is usually wrapping up and the locker room most mornings is full of talk and camaraderie. Having played team sports throughout high school as well as coaching, the energy in a locker room is a special kind of thing.

Auto workers leaving the General Motors Powertrain plant in Warren, Michigan (2008)

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Desert Guitar

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For a time, guitarist Matt Sweeney had an awesome job—traveling around and gigging with other guitar players for Noisey. Apparently, the spots are no longer being made: the last one was posted on the “Guitar Moves” site late in 2017. If you dig these like me, check out the rest of them. This one was with Josh Homme of Queens of the Stone Age.

When we went out to California the spring following Mark’s death, we spent time near Joshua Tree National Park. We weren’t far from Rancho De La Luna, where Homme and a host of other musicians have recorded. This studio shows up in the episode with the late Anthony Bourdain filming his No Reservations show with Homme. The desert is where Homme’s roots run deep. Bourdain talked about the mystical elements of the California high desert. I clearly felt that energy when we were there.

While we were staying in the town of Joshua Tree, I thought of heading over to Pappy & Harriet’s to catch a show, but at that point in my life—being overwhelmed by grief and loss—keeping it simple was the plan. Being able to make it through another day and making it back to our rental in the desert after spending the day out in the natural world was the best Mary and I could do at the time..

I’m enjoying learning how guitarists do what they do. I’ve heard the pentatonic riffs Homme is talking about with Sweeney countless times over my life loving rock and roll. I recognize them whenever I hear them, but now I’m thinking about how to play them, as I continue my journey with the guitar.

I love how Homme talks about how much fun he has playing the guitar, too. It’s nice to know that a professional musician still finds joy from doing something he dreamed of doing and that the “bidness” of rock and roll hasn’t stolen it. Because in the end, for me, finding a little joy in life is what it’s all about right now.