Felicitations From Fairhope #19

Felicitations From Fairhope #19

29 February 2024

 

Hello there… Rodger French here.

 

Anne and I are marking the fourth anniversary of our retirement from the State Department and subsequent move to Fairhope, Alabama. It being a leap year, a Presidential election hellscape is upon us, so I've decided (rather than suffer in silence) to share a little background on how it’s going around here.

 

[Empathetic Sidebar – Many of you also live in hotbeds of political dumbassery, and I share your pain. But I also recognize and respect that overt political expression may not be what you signed up for when you somehow ended up on my postings email list. Be assured that I do not intend this to be a permanent state of affairs.]

 

With national elections slightly less than a typical "snowflake" pregnancy away, here’s a brief rundown of select Alabama elected officials.

 

Name, Title: Kay Ivey, Governor

Party: Republican 

 

Job Description: Provide a typically folksy "Meemaw" avatar for typically cruel,

reactionary, and unnecessary legislation, all in the name of "Alabama values."

Running in 2024? Nah.  

 

Actual Quote: “In Alabama, we're going to keep putting lead on target.”

 

Constituent Service: Carries a gun in her purse.

 

Name, Title: Tommy Tuberville, U.S. Coach Senator

Party: Republican

 

Job Description: Empty suit living in Florida, representing AL.

 

Running in 2024? Nope.

 

Actual Quote: "Our government wasn't set up for one group to have all three

branches of government - wasn't set up that way, you know, the House, he

Senate, and the Executive."

Constituent Service: Goober-brained obstruction that resulted in AL losing out on

hosting the U.S. Space Command, at a cost of "1,400 jobs and millions of dollars

of economic impact." Widely regarded as the stupidest member of the Senate,

bless his heart.

 

Name, Title: Katie Britt, U.S. Senator

Party: Republican

 

Job Description: Young religious zealot previously employed by retired "boll weevil

Democrat" Sen. Richard Shelby.

 

Running in 2024? Nay.  

 

Actual quote: "Freedom of religion doesn't mean freedom from religion."

 

Constituent Service: Continuing the time-honored tradition of "bring home the

bacon" to a Red State utilizing tax revenue from Blue States. (AL receives app.

$2.00 from the Feds for every $1.00 it pays in taxes.)

 

Name, Title: Jerry Carl, Representative, AL-01

Party: Republican 

 

Job Description: Election-denying White remora desperately attached to tRump's

orange ass.

 

Running in 2024? Oh, yes. Rep. Carl is in a very nasty primary battle with some

GOP yahoo who is - incredibly - worse.

 

Actual Quote: "I will always have Donald Trump's back."

 

Constituent Service: A series of questionnaires designed to bolster his MAGAty

worldview, a.k.a. "Alabama values."

[Parodic Disclaimer - What follows is an entirely accurate representation of Rep. Carl’s questionnaire format (created by AI or an unpaid intern) that pops up from time to time in my inbox. The content herein is my own, of course, and intended for the purpose of irony in the service of reality.]

 

Part 1: The most urgent existential threat facing America today is (choose one):

 

      Uppity Women

      Uppity Negros

      Uppity Acronyms (BLM, CRT, DEI, LGBTQIA, WOKE)

      Soros-financed Democrat Pizzerias

      Immigrant Fentanyl Mules

      Gun Control Nazis

      Public Libraries

 

Part 2: America's best hope for the future is (choose one):

 

      Seven Mountains Mandate

      Seven Pillars of Putin's World

      Seven Seas Commentary

      Seven Dwarfs Storyboard

      Seven Deadly Sins Memorandum

      Seven Wonders of the World Brochure

      Seventh Inning Stretch Invitation

      

Part 3: Questions (Yes or No)

 

1. Do you believe that Joe Biden still beats his wife?        Yes       No     

2. Do you support a House Select Committee to investigate whether Joe Biden still beats his wife?        Yes       No

 

Yep, business as usual and always mindful of our Official State Motto: “Alabama - We dare defend our Whites.” Happy Leap Year.

 

Onward.

 

Rodger

Felicitations From Fairhope #18

 Felicitations From Fairhope #18

10 March 2023

 

Hello there… Rodger French here.

 

For more than a few years before (and occasionally during) my tenure as a Foreign Service Officer’s “Wingman,” I had a band - a pretty good one, at that - called The DeLuxe Vaudeville Orchestra. The concept was simple: A Vaudeville show in which band members doubled as variety entertainers (juggling, song & dance, etc.), with room galore for guest musicians and assorted eclectic performers. The whole enterprise was a lot of work and buckets of fun, and we had a nice run.

 

I like to think that I got pretty good at putting together shows on the fly with a minimum of actual, you know, rehearsal. Chaos was part of the deal, of course, but as long as everyone - regardless of skill level - paid attention and tried to bring their A game, confidence was high. Fortunately, the band had a decent repertoire that included numerous musical styles to draw upon. And, being a high-class outfit, we had actual charts.

 

In addition to concerts, weddings, etc., The DVO served as the house band for all sorts of late-night, ad-hoc, off-the-wall, and other hyphenated affairs. For example, a few years back, we were booked to be house band for a Vaudeville Extravaganza at an annual summer gathering of mostly Southern artists. Naturally we recruited guest musicians and did very well, landing two fine percussionists and a ukulelist. We also scored an excellent young violinist. And thus, to the point, arrived we have. But first...

 

[Gender Adjacent Sidebar - When you build a career (even one as strange as mine) in music and theatre, you are 99 and 44/100% sure to find yourself collaborating and becoming friends with Gay people. I am a better musician and person for this and most grateful.]

 

Turns out, the very nice and talented musician now sitting in the 2^nd violin chair was a woman transitioning to be a man. He was dressed as a man and used masculine pronouns, but when I referred to him, I instinctively said “she” and “her.” Of course, I believe that all people are entitled to determine their own form of address and corrected myself immediately.

 

It was a slightly embarrassing process, but this was my first experience working with a transgender person and I knew, as bandleader, I had an added responsibility to get it right. Which I did. It took a little time before I got there (he was very understanding), but everything came together splendidly. I enjoyed our collaboration and hope he’s doing well in his journey.

 

I recall this as I ponder the ceaseless attempts of right-wing extremists, hypocritically claiming the cloak of Christianity, to demonize groups they think we should all hate. Pushback from uppity women, Black folks, and Gay people being fierce, they’ve lately turned their attentions to the much less influential Trans community. The results of this “volatile experiment in turning grievances into governance” have been acutely vicious, cruel, and idiotic.

 

[Drag Queen Sidebar - Banning drag shows? Are you kidding me? Drag has been enormously popular since antiquity when women were not even allowed to be actors. (Shakespeare was performed solely by men until 1670.) Not to mention Vaudeville (e.g., Julian Eltinge, Bert Savoy, Vesta Tilley) and TV (e.g., Milton Berle, Monty Python, Barry Humphries, RuPaul).]

 

So, craven politicians continue to (a) build their brands and (b) raise piles of money by lobbing vengeance like red meat to their most fearful supporters. But transgender people struggling with life-defining issues should not be subject to your or my approval. It is not about us; it is none of our goddamed business. I submit that it would be more Christian to show some empathy and try to make people’s lives less difficult. And if that’s just too much of a cross to bear, well, in the words of the song:

 

“Lord, if you won't take care of us, won't you please, please let us be?" Amen.

 

Onward.

 

Rodger

 

Felicitations From Fairhope #17

 Felicitations From Fairhope #17

10 February 2023

 

Hello there… Rodger French here.

 

February has a particular significance for me, one that does not necessarily involve prognosticating rodents. On 02 February 1972, I was discharged, honorably and six days early, from the U.S. Navy. I can objectively report that I (a) enjoyed being a sailor at sea, (b) detested military chickenshit, and (c) felt my hitch elapse like an eternity. But now, at an age where I may regard the passage of time in years, decades, and even generations... nah, it was still a long four years.

 

[Military Etymological Sidebar - “Chickenshit:” WWII troop slang for military bureaucratic regulations so silly and trifling that they don't measure up to the level of bullshit.]

 

Periodically, I found myself with a lot of free time. Since I’ve never been much of a boozer or tattoo aficionado - and one can spend only so much time in a gym - I gravitated to the library, where I could indulge in binge-reading, mostly biographies and science fiction. But I also took the opportunity to educate myself regarding more serious matters, foremost of which was Black History. This was a very big deal for me, given my background.

 

1962-65 - Growing up in Kentucky, I went to an integrated high school (Class of ‘65) and, as a student manager for the basketball and track teams, had regular interactions with Black guys. What I didn’t have, of course, was the education necessary to comprehend the true history, complexity, and legacy of “Race” in the United States. But the Civil Rights Movement was constantly in the news, and that helped provide a starting point for me to begin to learn.

 

1966-67 - At the University of Kentucky, I was part of the “Marching 100” band: 98 Whites, 2 Blacks, and no women. (I am not making this up.) UK surely needed a reality check/attitude adjustment and received one in 1966 when the Wildcat basketball team, an all-White group coached by Adolph Rupp, a notorious racist, got their asses handed to them in the NCAA Men’s Basketball Finals by Texas Western University, which started a defiantly all-Black lineup. And as much as I wanted the Cats to win (I was drumming in the pep band, after all), it was clear to me that this was a historically seismic event.

 

1968 - I reported to Navy boot camp at Great Lakes, IL in February 1968. Recruit Company 103 was integrated, although (like the Navy itself) largely White. We all got along alright, just trying to get through basic training in the butt-freezing cold. But on 04 April 1968, Dr. King was assassinated, Chicago was declared off-limits, and shit got very real. There was an incident within our Company that could have easily turned very ugly, had cooler heads not prevailed. It felt - again, still - like we were due a reckoning.

 

My self-education in Black History (and subsequently, Critical Race Theory) began in 1968 in the Naval Station Newport library with The Autobiography of Malcolm X, followed in short order (from a variety of sources) by Invisible Man, The Souls of Black Folks, Native Son, From Slavery to Freedom, The Wretched of the Earth, The Fire Next Time, The Life and Times of Frederick Douglass, The Peculiar Institution, The Negro in the South, Blues People, and basically any relevant book I could lay my hands on. The process was enlightening, embarrassing, and infuriating. It was also one of the wisest things I’ve ever done of my own volition.

 

50+ years further on up the road, I have that same feeling when I read, among other books, The 1619 Project. And while it is currently fashionable to forbid the teaching in public schools of subjects that offend the tender fee fees of White supremacist snowflakes, I call bullshit. I deserved the truth in the 1960s and our kids deserve it now. They can handle it and shouldn’t have to ferret it out on their own. And, after all, February is also Black History Month.

 

Onward.

 

Rodger

Felicitations From Fairhope #16

Felicitations From Fairhope #16

29 January 2023

Hello there… Rodger French here.

 

It is hardly revelatory that the status of “retired” tends to enable, nay, mandate reflection on matters both profound (the qualities of love and friendship, apologies owed to those wronged, hard lessons learned) and frivolous (bucket lists, Top 10 lists, the list goes on). Recently, I have been ruminating on the motley assortment of jobs I’ve had in 75 years and... Ta-da! A list! Don’t panic, it’s brief:

 

Short Term - Pest control flunky, grocery warehouse picker, costume shop and department store shipping & delivery, telephone solicitor (one horrible day, never went back)

 

Military - Navy Signalman (SM2): Visual communications supervisor, “Leader of Men”

 

Longish Term - Artist model, residential carpenter, radio (Program Director, DJ, titular engineer), Arts Administrator, newsletter editor

 

Career - Accordionist, drummer/percussionist, musical director/band leader, theatre/studio musician, juggler, Vaudevillian

 

State Department - An assortment of jobs, some of them interesting, designated for Eligible Family Members able to obtain a Top Secret security clearance

 

OK, now on to the actual point of all this.

 

FWIW, I used to be a decent drummer. Never had chops to burn or a desire to solo, but I worked at it and developed a solid feel for “sitting in the pocket” (keeping good time), became adept at playing quietly (essential for theatre gigs), and learned how to read drum scores. I had several teachers - notably the great Peggy Benkeser - and earned an actual degree in music that included a minor in “Percussion Performance,” a fact I still cannot believe. Along the way, I became acceptably proficient in several styles, although not-so-much jazz. (I respect jazz drummers too much to ever consider passing myself off as one.) But my favorite style of drumming was, and still is, funk.

 

By now, you may be wondering “WTF brought all this on?” Well, this December past, A.J. and I took a little trip to New Orleans to spend a few days with some old friends eating too well, watching a ridiculous amount of college football on TV, and celebrating New Year’s Eve. We had a great time. Each evening, a large assemblage of local brass and percussion players would congregate on a corner opposite our digs in Faubourg Marigny to play and pass the hat for a couple of hours. Straight-ahead brass band, second line parade music with that funky New Orleans shuffling rhythm I first heard as a kid listening (on a transistor radio, of course) to musicians including Fats Domino, Ernie K-Doe, Barbara George, and Little Richard.

 

This is a rhythm foundational to an incalculable amount of great music. It makes you glad you came to the party and compels you to move your ass. And if you’re fortunate enough to be a somewhat skilled drummer who has been paying attention, playing it connects you to a boatload of musical and cultural history. And, at no extra charge, briefly exalts you to the status of “too cool for the room.”

 

[Essential Commerce Sidebar - I returned from our trip not only with a renewed appreciation for New Orleans music, but also three books on the subject from Frenchmen Art & Books and a double CD anthology found at Louisiana Music Factory.]

 

My trusty Ludwig 14” chrome snare drum and stick bag are still in the closet. Might be time for another list.

 

Onward.

 

Rodger

Felicitations From Fairhope #15

 Felicitations From Fairhope #15

20 May 2022

 

Photo Update Links: Madrid/Toledo, La Alhambra, Mezquita-Catedral de Córdoba, Granada/Córdoba/Sevilla

 

Hello there… Rodger French here.

 

Anne and I just returned from a two-week trip to Spain – our first overseas excursion since decamping from Italy to Alabama in early 2020. She had spent time in Barcelona and Valencia as part of her gig at State, but I had never been. Well, OK… in 1972 I spent a lovely week at the Base Naval de Rota awaiting my discharge from the USN, but that Does. Not. Count.

 

Designed, nay, artfully crafted by A.J., our tour took us south: Madrid, Toledo, Granada, Córdoba, and Sevilla. We took in the sights, mostly parks, museums, and places steeped in Abrahamic religiosity. We dived into the tapas culture, but never ate dinner at 10pm. We walked our asses off, yet became comfortable with trains, subways, and buses. We spoke as much español as we could muster, much to the amusement of the locals.

 

We had a great time. Cue the highlight reel:

 

MADRID

 

Museo Nacional del Prado – One of the world’s great art museums, featuring works by Diego Velázquez, El Greco, y Francisco de Goya. Oh yes, and “The Garden of Earthly Delights” by Hieronymus Bosch, a triptych that is even more strange, disturbing, and full of wonder than expected.

 

Museo Nacional Centro de Arte Reina Sofía – Featuring a significant collection of modern art, notably works by Joan Miró, Salvador Dali, and Juan Gris. And Pablo Picasso, of course, including “Guernica,” which is even more startling, disturbing, and overwhelming than expected.

 

Museo Sorolla – This lovely museum resides in a mansion that was the home and workshop of the artist Joaquín Sorolla y Bastida and his family, most notably his beautiful and formidable wife Clotilde García del Castillo. It is a jewel.

 

Parque de El Retiro - A beautiful park in the center of Madrid near El Prado, it was full of people, but never felt too crowded, and offered a pleasant respite from walking the city streets. And, accordion players are to be found there. Always a plus.

 

TOLEDO

 

A short train ride from Madrid, Toledo is rugged, ancient, and famous for steel cutting implements and El Greco. The city has been ruled by Romans, Visigoths, Moors (who tolerated a sizable Jewish population, and Christians (who ultimately did not). Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor and noted architectural vandal (more on that later) also took up periodic residence there.

 

[Worst Spanish Monarchs EVER Sidebar] No contest: Isabell I de Castilla y Ferdinando II de Aragón. 1478: Launched the Spanish Inquisition. 1492: Expelled the Jews from Spain. Also, enabled Cristoforo Colombo to begin his voyages of conquest and plunder. 1502: Ordered the forced conversion of all Muslims to Christianity. That is a lot to answer for.]

 

Toledo is a UNESCO World Heritage Site and was predictably overrun with touristas. But, whaddaya gonna do… we walked up and down the steep and ancient streets, looking for shade, food (which was very good), and photo ops. We decided to bypass La Catedral Primada de Santa María de Toledo, a gothic magnum opus festooned with stolen gold, in favor of the Sephardic Museum, a small place dedicated to the Jewish cultural heritage in Spain. All in all, a nice daytrip.

 

GRANADA

 

La Alhambra - Another UNESCO etc., etc., and the most popular tourist attraction in Spain, it “was begun in 1238 by Muhammad I Ibn al-Ahmar, the first Nasrid emir and founder of the Emirate of Granada, the last Muslim state of Al-Andalus.” It is a collection of fortresses, palaces, and gardens that really deserves to be seen. Interestingly, in 1526 Charles V decided that what the place really needed was a Renaissance-style palace for… what? Contrast? So, construction was begun, but - thankfully - never fully completed.

 

[Fine Dining Sidebar] The best food of the trip was, for me at least, to be had at Restaurante Ruta del Azafrán (Saffron Road), located next to a small park with killer views of La Alhambra. The menu was imaginative (really, what miracles one can perform with anchovies) and the prices reasonable. And, being accomplished Gringos, we were first in line when the doors opened at 20:00.]

 

CÓRDOBA

 

We trained to Sevilla to set up camp in a really nice hotel (¡Muchas gracias, Anna!) and took off the next day for Córdoba to see the Mezquita-Catedral de Córdoba, yet another UNES… you know the drill. This remarkable building consists of (a) an enormous mosque begun in 785 CE, when Córdoba was the capital of the Muslim-controlled region of Al-Andalus, and (b) an enormous Catholic cathedral superimposed on it beginning in 1523 with the express permission of… wait for it… Charles V. Who, to his credit, came to regret it. The result is more than a little schizophrenic, but amazing. Please check out the photoz.

 

[Possible Religious Experience Sidebar - The capilla mayor (main chapel) of the church is plopped smack in the middle of the former mosque’s prayer hall and includes a “symphonic organ” with 3500 pipes, más o menos. We sat down in the Gospel nave to rest our feet, with the organ surrounding us on two sides. An unassuming hombre wearing a mask (the Spaniards being quite serious about this Covid shit) quietly sat down at the console and started to play.

 

I am not a religious person, but I do revere the power of music. The piece, which I did not recognize, lasted maybe three minutes, during which time I was completely overwhelmed and brought to tears. It was one of the finest musical moments of my life and I am grateful for it.]

 

SEVILLA

 

Catedral de Santa María de la Sede - THE largest Gothic cathedral in the world. (But is it a UNESCO thingy? Why, yes. Yes, it is.) And it is really big: 15 doors and 80 chapels big. And the bell tower, which has become a symbol of the city, is a converted minaret. Not unlike the cathedral bell tower in Córdoba.

 

Museo Bellas Artes de Sevilla - Housed in a confiscated convent building, this museum’s collection originally consisted of works from confiscated convents and monasteries. So, a lot of religious art, mostly from the Sevillian Baroque. A.J. and I both particularly liked the work of Bartolomé Esteban Murillo, whose religious-themed painting sometimes seems a tad less ecclesiastical, more human, and more accessible. 

 

Centro Cerámica Triana - Located in the Triana barrio across the Río Guadalquivir (the only navigable river in the country, by the way), this charming former tile factory, offers displays and explanations in Spanish and English concerning the history and process of ceramic tile manufacturing in Sevilla. Me, I just love the stuff, but I’m gonna need a bigger suitcase.

 

Before we took the train back to Madrid (and an airport hotel and a Covid test and a long flight home), we managed to get in a bit of light shopping and a final run at the tapas thing. We finally got it right at a local place recommended by our ever-helpful hotel staff. We ordered a bunch of fried items, all of which were perfect. In fact, the fried anchovies were so good that even Anne enjoyed them.

 

Finalmente, I would be remiss in not acknowledging how friendly and helpful the Spaniards were to us. In Myanmar, we saw signs reading: “Warmly welcome and take care of tourists.” Good advice anywhere, I think. 

 

Gracias españoles. Estamos muy agradecidos.

 

Onward.

 

Rodger

Felicitations From Fairhope #14

 Felicitations From Fairhope #14

20 January 2022

 

Hello there… Rodger French here.

 

It’s been a strange three months since the last posting, that being about our wonderful trip to New England. Since then, Anne and I have traveled exactly nowhere further than Mobile. Like most oldish folks who are vaxxed, boosted and have a lick of sense, we decided to stay out of airports and off the roads during the Holidaze, especially with The Omicron running amok and roughly 1/3 of the country (so many assholes) still refusing to get jabbed. So, we opted for quiet and safety, thank you very much.

 

There was, however… one small problem. File this under “No good deed goes unpunished.”

 

On the Saturday after Thanksgiving, while setting up our Christmas tree (and a splendid one at that), I suffered a herniated disc in my back. This set off a cycle of pain, visits to doctors, pain, tests, pain, drugs, somewhat less pain, and – six long weeks later – surgery. Which went well, I am told. I weaned myself off the pain meds after four days and have a follow-up appointment with the surgeon in a couple of weeks, and then rehab.

 

The worst part of all this mess is that I cannot sit for long periods nor lift anything heavy, such as an accordion. It’s been weeks since I’ve practiced and it’s making me a bit crazy.

 

But I do realize my good fortune. A.J. is looking after me, my insurance has me covered, and we’re just taking it day-to-day, poco a poco. We have a couple of small trips scheduled in February (FL) and April (the ATL). Who knows, maybe we’ll even get in a really big trip later this year, Covid willing.

 

[Convalescence Amusement Sidebar – While necessarily spending mucho tiempo in a more-or-less prone position, I have had the opportunity to read more books than usual. FWIW…]

 

Backstage Passes & Backstabbing Bastards – Memoirs of A Rock ‘N’ Roll Survivor (Al Kooper). Enormously entertaining reflections from a great musician and one of my personal faves.

 

Short Nights of the Shadow Catcher - The Epic Life and Immortal Photographs of Edward Curtis (Timothy Egan). Fascinating and appalling American history about one man’s obsession to photograph vanishing indigenous culture.

 

Taste - My Life Through Food (Stanley Tucci). A charming, delicious, and surprisingly poignant book by one of my favorite actors. The guy’s a real mensch, too.

 

The 1619 Project – A New Origin Story (Created by Nikole Hannah-Jones and The New York Times Magazine). Excellent. Every high school student in the United States, especially the White ones, should read this. I wish I could have.

 

Tango Masters – Anibal Trolio (Michael Lavocah). A deep dive into the musical history, including analysis of recordings, of Argentina’s most revered bandoneonista.

 

[Warning: Rant Alert Sidebar – Apologies in advance]

 

I also watch more TV than I should, and I find my patience wearing a bit thin with news programs. Never mind FOX and the other vandals on the right. Nine months out, it seems that the “mainstream” media election year narrative has been set:

 

President Biden is answerable for… well, everything that has gone wrong: Covid, inflation, supply shortages, you name it. The congressional GOP, which has zero inclination to govern, gets a pass. This leaves Biden and the Dems totally responsible for solving these problems - which they must do in a “bipartisan” fashion, by the way - or face certain Armageddon in November.

 

And that would be just fine, since it would generate truckloads of money and support their ongoing business model based on lazy, irresponsible, but “savvy” journalism.

 

All of this is as predictable as it is depressing. But we know how to thwart the template: Work hard, spend the money, and get out the vote in numbers too big to ignore or falsify. As per frickin’ usual. End of rant.

 

Finally, in local news, construction has begun of a new house on our south side. Weather permitting, the jobsite is occupied by a very good Mexican (American) framing crew. I don’t mean to stereotype, but estos hombres (a) look Mexican, (b) speak Spanish, and (c) play Mexican music while working. The good stuff, too, con mucho acordeon. Sometimes I’ll find a reason to putter around the front yard just to listen.

 

As always, thanks for being there. Be well, stay safe, and let’s get ready to rumble.

 

Onward.

 

Rodger

Felicitations From Fairhope #13

 Felicitations From Fairhope #13

22 October 2021

 

Google Photo Update

“The State of Maine”

 

… continued from #12

 

The State of Maine - Taking an Amtrak/bus combo from Boston to Portland, we were picked up by my friend Michael (clown, of course), to spend two nights with he and his wife Judy, a theatre set designer and another old chum. But first…

 

[Car Rental Sidebar - “Would you like an upgrade to… well, a Planetoid-class SUV? True, it’s too wide, it’s too high, and you can watch the gas gauge drop while you drive. But it’s wicked commodious and, with a V-8 engine, perfect for stately touring.” I took it. I make no apologies. And, for the record, we own a Subaru, the “official car” of the State of Maine.]

 

We liked Portland and had a great time with Judy & Michael, just hanging out with pizza and the Red Sox on TV, eating insanely expensive lobster rolls, checking out local lighthouses, and generally catching up. Michael and I discussed using some of my recordings for his work and Judy gave A.J. a book about John Singer Sargent that belonged to her late mother, a fine painter. They are welcoming, talented folks and we hope to see them in Fairhope one day.

 

From Portland, we drove up the coast to Boothbay Harbor for lunch and then on to Camden, a very picturesque little town. Our B&B was fancy and convenient, and the food excellent. The room, regrettably, was small, the bed a giant marshmallow, and the church bells across the street rang on the hour… all damned night.

 

But we were up and/or at ‘em the next morning for a beautiful autumn drive, first to Belfast (lunch, natch), then on to SW Harbor, located on the rockbound coast near, and sometimes in, Acadia National Park. Anne booked three nights in a place built in 1755 as a family home that has since metastasized to offer numerous acceptable rooms with fabulous water views.

 

We drove to Bar Harbor (“bah hah-bah”), a hugely popular tourist destination. It was a splendid day and we arrived early enough to get a decent parking space. After lunch, we cruised to Acadia National Park, which, by the time we arrived, resembled an anthill. All the parking lots and scenic spots were completely overrun, but we had a fine time motoring around in the Planetoid, enjoying the scenery. 

 

The following day, we boarded a Sea Princess Nature Cruise in NE Harbor. It was quite chilly, and we gladly wore all the layers of clothing we brought with us. Yay! We saw loons, sea gulls, a bald eagle, and harbor seals. The cruise docked at Little Cranberry Island, a lobster-fishing village (pop. 70), and then concluded with a trip up Somes Sound Fjord, where the ospreys - victims of DDT in the 50s-60s - are once again building their nests on the cliffs. A good day on the Gulf of Maine.

 

[Tree Hugging Sidebar - A knowledgeable Park Ranger narrated the tour, and did not fail to emphasize the historical environmental degradation visited upon Maine by clueless White people; e.g., recklessly overfishing cod stocks, then ignorantly blaming the seals and wantonly decimating their populations (which did not help). Currently, global warming is forcing lobsters to migrate north and the lobster industry, valued at $500 million a year, is in big trouble.]

 

Our final overnight Maine destination was Bath, a town we really liked. Located on the Kennebec River, it remains one of the most important shipbuilding centers in the USA. Our B&B was entirely satisfactory: good room, good bed, and wicked good breakfast. We spent the morning at the outstanding Maine Maritime Museum. Bath’s shipbuilding history encompasses vessels both sail (schooners) and mechanized (destroyers) and thousands of people still work in the yards. 

 

Then it was off to our final stop in Maine: Gardiner, and a visit with Denise. I met Denise and her late (and much lamented) husband Benny at a clown workshop in 1980. Over the course of the next decade, we spent a lot of time together, and it’s fair to say that most of what I know about organizing Vaudeville shows I learned from studying and performing with them. Right place, right time… I was lucky. We arranged to meet at the local diner.

 

[Local Diner Sidebar - Three of Maine’s finest:

- Becky’s Diner, Portland (broiled scallops with garlic and bacon)

- Moody’s Diner, Waldoboro (haddock Ruben with local sauerkraut)

- A1 Diner, Gardiner (haddock fish tacos)]

 

As for Denise, what a treat to see a dear friend doing so well. She and Anne hit it off right away and we had a great lunch. Afterwards, we walked to Johnson Hall, the oldest opera house in Maine. This historic place, which Denise & Benny were involved with for decades, is undergoing a $5.5 million renovation (donations graciously accepted) and it’s going to be magnificent. Finally, we dropped by her charming apartment, yakked away until sunset, and left her with an invitation to come to Fairhope and eat her weight in shrimp.

 

The following day, back to Portland to surrender the Planetoid, take a bus to Logan Airport, and check into a swanky hotel on the eastern shore of Boston Harbor. We spent our last night in New England with a panoramic view stretching from the Boston Navy Yard in Charlestown to the South Boston Naval Annex. A classic, excuse me, wicked classic ending to a most memorable trip.

 

Spend the money, see the sights. And visit your friends.

 

Onward.

 

Rodger

 

Felicitations From Fairhope #12

Felicitations From Fairhope #12

21 October 2021

 

Hello there… Rodger French here.

 

Before I begin this account of our recent trip to New England - specifically Boston and the State of Maine - please indulge me in a short, but brief, backstory.

 

I lived in Boston in 1970-71 while in the Navy. My ship (U.S.S. Mississinewa, A0-144) was homeported in Newport, RI and every single day it was actually there, I carpooled 140 miles round trip with three other sailors. Ridiculous? Ayuh, but Boston was a boatload more interesting than Newport. The ship, however, was also constantly undergoing repairs at the South Boston Naval Annex, making for a significantly shorter commute. The point is, it’d been 50 years since I lived in Boston.

 

Anne, who has travelled the world, had never been to Boston. This could not stand.

 

A few years later, having learned to juggle pretty well, I fell in with a motley crowd: Vaudeville performers, many of who lived and worked in Maine. So I ended up spending a lot of time there (often with LaBanana, my juggling partner) studying and learning more about “New Vaudeville” and playing my accordion for anyone who might listen. My last trip was with the Ben & Jerry’s Road Show in 1991. So… it’d been 30 years since I’d been to Maine.

 

Anne, who has travelled to all the continents except Antarctica, had never been to the State of Maine. This. Could. Not. Stand.

 

[Travel Advisory Sidebar - U.S. airports are still overcrowded, security-crazed hellholes and mandatory masking (which I firmly believe in) is nonetheless a massive pain-in-the-face. Business Class (Thank you, A.J.!) is the only way to survive.]

 

Alright, enough background. On to the highlight reel.

 

Boston - We spent four nights in a hotel near Boston Garden, in a slightly dodgy neighborhood convenient to the “T” (subway) and home to roughly a zillion sports bars. Boston is the sports bar capital of the universe and, since there are literally dozens of colleges/universities in the city, bars (and the T) teem with “yout.” Boston is still a wicked cool city for young people.

 

[Tourist Emergency Sidebar - On our FIRST MORNING, I awoke in severe pain. I’d been down this road before: kidney stone. Fortunately, Mass General was nearby, so we taxied to the Emergency Room, checked in, ran some blood work, and while I was collecting a urine sample… behold! The little boulder fell into the cup and I was OK. In and out in two hours, could have been worse, let us speak of it no more.]

 

Anne had a list ready: Boston Common and Public Garden (with busking Italian accordionist), the Museum of Fine Arts (replete with familiar portraits of our slave-holding Founding Fathers), the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum (featuring a surreal courtyard worth the price of admission), and the Boston Public Library (housing “Triumph of Religion,” a mural by John Singer Sargent that is simply astounding). We also made a pilgrimage to Harvard Square for Sunday brunch (the best Eggs Benedict ever) and a stop at the Harvard Coop, the country’s oldest collegiate bookstore.

 

[Nostalgic Sidebar - When I lived in Boston, several of we young Navy types would, on occasion, ingest thoroughly illegal substances and take the T to the Coop, the ground floor of which was then a wonderland of vinyl LPs. Bliss ensued.]

 

We also caught up with friends. One night, we took a commuter train to Middleboro, MA, where we met with Fred & Sylvia. (Fred and I were stationed on the Mississinewa, working in the signal gang.) They took us to a fine, local family-owned Italian restaurant, and then to their wonderful, music stuff-filled home. Both of them are classical musicians and quite lovely people.

 

On our last night in Boston, my old pal Kenny (a mensch and actual famous clown) graciously drove in from the ‘burbs, picked us up, and schlepped us around town. I had not seen the city since “The Big Dig” and many of the roads I remembered had simply disappeared underground. (At a cost of over $24 billion, sure; but such an improvement.) We had dinner at a pleasant Afghan restaurant in Cambridge and then meandered around looking for ice cream, which we found. Parking, however, we found not (just like 1971), so it was back to the hotel to exchange big hugs and get ready to head onward to Maine.

 

To be continued…

Felicitations From Fairhope #11

Felicitations From Fairhope #11

02 August 2021

 

Hello there… Rodger French here.

 

OK, I know it’s been eight months since the last posting, but as Stephen King observed, “Time takes it all whether you want it to or not, time takes it all.” If that seems a bit on the fatalistic side, then perhaps a little Kurt Vonnegut is in order: "I tell you, we are here on Earth to fart around, and don't let anybody tell you different." In any case, ciao.

 

A.J. and I are hunkered down in our home here in Fairhope, AL, laying low during the typically heinous summer heat while keeping a wary eye on predictive hurricane weather patterns. We’ve been very lucky so far. Heat and humidity can be worrisome, but are not normally in the same ballpark as hurricanes… or drought and wildfires.

 

And we are planning a trip to New England (Yay!), which Anne has never visited. The idea of enduring several U.S. airports is less than appealing, but driving 1239 miles to Boston just to begin the trip is simply not an option. An other time, perhaps...

 

Our biggest travel concern is The Covid Delta variant, of course, although we are fully vaccinated and down with getting booster shots as soon as they become available. Since the airlines are all up in it when it comes to safety protocols, we feel pretty confident about our chances, and while we have no love for masking, it’s still a reasonable precaution and not really a BFD. However…

 

The state of Alabama vaccination rate is 34%, the lowest in the nation. (It’s so bad that Mississippi has a new official motto: “Thank God for Alabama.”) So far we haven’t personally experienced any grief from anti-vaccine folks, but that sentiment is definitely to be reckoned with. And it really pisses me off.

 

Those of us who are vaccinated have made it possible for this country to begin returning to a semblance of normalcy. Reasonable medical exemptions are one thing, but it is frustrating beyond measure that so many people seem intent on fucking it all up, whether in the name of “personal freedom,” “owning the Libs,” or “precious bodily fluids.” For my part, I am out of patience and running regrettably low on sympathy.

 

But we are fortunate and healthy, so we carry on, avoid large crowds, and try to keep in touch. So should we all, I think. It’s been a really tough 18 months and the end is still not in sight. And while some may disagree, I believe that the simple truth of our struggle against this pandemic is: “Nobody wins unless everybody wins.”

 

Stay strong, stay kind, stay alive.

 

Onward.

 

Rodger

 

Felicitations From Fairhope #10

Felicitations From Fairhope #10

25 November 2020

 

Hello there… Rodger French here.

 

You know those “end of the year” emails we all get from time to time, the ones that summarize the entire year and chronicle - in great detail - what the kids are up to? Sure you do, and I want it known that I value receiving them since it indicates that somebody out there has enough regard to think that I might actually read them. Which, of course, I do.

 

But 2020 has been an absolute shitshow and, until January 20, 2021, President Trump (loser of not one, but two nationwide popular votes) will continue wiping his blood-stained hands on the White House curtains, hosting “Super Spreader” holiday events, and issuing pardons like a fat, orange Pez dispenser. So I figured I’d get a jump on things in hopes of bending the time continuum ever-so-slightly in the direction of better days to come. Because, why not.

 

A Short, but Brief Recap of 2020 Highlights.

 

February - Left Roma early to come to the ATL to begin work on “Indecent,” a wonderful beast of a show and a dream gig, at The Theatrical Outfit.

 

March - Opened the play to rave reviews just as the Covid nightmare was starting to sow the seeds of panic. After one week, we had to shut the show down and I still haven’t gotten over it. However, the day after we closed, I packed up the Subaru and hauled ass to Fairhope, AL to get back to A.J., who, retiring from her State Department gig, had managed to get on one of the last flights out before the Italians shut down their country.

 

[Viral Background Sidebar - The Trump and The Covid: Twin pandemics in an awful year; the perfect combination of clueless egotism and relentless nature.]

 

April - Moved into our new old house, where three truckloads of our stuff from three different locations finally caught up with us. The next few months were spent doing household things. You all know the drill. So, on to…

 

September - Hurricane Sally made landfall smack on the Eastern Shore of Mobile Bay with high wind and torrential rain, taking 36 interminable hours to mosey through. We lucked out on any significant damage, but power was down for a week and there are still large residual piles of trees and other debris almost three months later. But wait…

 

October - Hurricane Zeta made landfall smack on the western shore of Mobile Bay. We were spared the worst of it, but communities in Mobile and points north were not so fortunate. Many folks who had barely recovered from Sally were hammered again and the storm surge wiped out a boatload of docks.

 

November - The Biden/Harris ticket won the Presidency by over six million popular votes, with a margin of 74 in the Electoral College, thanks to (mostly Black) voters in Atlanta, Detroit, Milwaukee, Philadelphia, and other actual, you know, American cities. Cheeto Benito can sulk, bitch, piss, and moan all he wants, but he is now officially: A Loser.

 

Sadly, the good citizens of Alabama will be represented in the U.S. Senate by Tommy Tuberville (R-Meathead), a failed football coach, career grifter, and ambulatory pork rind. (But if Doug Jones gets a position in the Biden Cabinet? That would be very cool.)

 

[Final Political Sidebar - There’s a Georgia Senate Runoff election on Jan. 5, 2021 and if both Raphael Warnock and Jon Ossoff win, Democrats will control the U.S. Senate and Mitch McConnell (R-Satan’s Spawn) can kindly go piss up a rope. So if you’re eligible to vote in Georgia, do it. If you live somewhere else (for instance, oh, Alabama), send money. And, if you’re a Republican, try reaching out to the other side of the aisle. We’ll wait.]

 

And… that’s a wrap. Probably. Thanks again, and I wish each of you (you know who you are and if you don’t, please ask someone) Happy Holidaze and a Healthy Cold, Flu & Pandemic Season. Let’s hope that this time next year finds us looking back and laughing, with inoculated chagrin, at the depths of American dumbassery. Here’s to 2021, and don’t forget your mask.

 

Stay strong, stay kind, stay alive.

 

Onward.

 

Rodger