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

Felicitations From Fairhope #09

Felicitations From Fairhope #09

03 September 2020

 

Hello there… Rodger French here.

 

Old habits die hard, so the urge to check in must be acknowledged from time to time. Not that there’s any special news to report on our part. We’re still laying low, working on the house, and trying our best to ride out the twin horrors of Trump and Covid-19. But the prospect of the upcoming election doesn’t make that any easier.

 

Perversely, that isn’t a real issue here. There is absolutely no chance that Biden will carry Alabama, although incumbent Senator Doug Jones (D-Decent Human Being) does have a shot, albeit a long one, at retaining his seat. His opponent is a former Auburn football coach whose entire platform consists of “I will always have President Trump’s back.” Great… another reactionary White man who has attached himself to Trump’s pasty ass like a remora in heat. Naturally, he opposes common sense pandemic measures such as wearing facemasks.

 

But lest you think there’s no hope (and really, why wouldn’t you), it turns out that Alabama’s Governor Kay Ivey (R-Not Insane) is actually a fan of science and has extended her mandatory facemask order for another month. I theorize that this is because she is 75 years old and a grandmother and would like not to die.

 

Speaking of which, the summer reaches its cultural apex on Labor Day and it’s a safe bet that many Lower Alabamians will be taking stupid risks in a desperate bid for “normalcy.” Gulf Coast beaches are especially prone to boneheaded pandemic enhancing behavior and should be assiduously avoided during holiday weekends. We plan to stay at home and do… stuff. 

 

For example… after a long hiatus, I have resumed practicing the accordion. I was just too depressed and unmotivated for a long while, but the benefits of practice are too great to be ignored forever, so I’m at it several times a week. Good for the brain, good for the hands, and good just in case I ever get the call to play in public again. Could happen… it can’t hurt to be ready.

 

Stay strong, stay kind, stay alive. And get your voting act together.

 

Onward.

 

Rodger

Felicitations From Fairhope #08

Felicitations From Fairhope #08

14 July 2020

Hello there… Rodger French here.

One of the more stressful effects of “The Trump Flu” is, for me, the necessity of social avoidance. I freely admit that my days as a party animal (“animale da festa” in Italian - so much classier) are further away than they seem in my rear view mirror. And, as much as I like to travel, the notion of getting on an airplane for any reason is simply a non-starter right now. Also, I find Zoom intensely tedious, but that’s just me doing me. So it’s emails, phone calls, and - once in a while - daring road trips that keep me in touch with family and friends. Which is why you’re getting this. Anyone who hasn’t already consigned these postings to their Spam folder deserves to be kept in the loop.

A loop largely closed, at the moment. Summer has come to Fairhope and the heat index, as expected, is well over 100° F every day, with no relief in sight. Fortunately, the need for the heavy lifting necessary during our move has abated and we are in the most fortunate position of being able to enjoy our very nice and appropriately air-conditioned house, venturing out now and again to forage for food and hardware, all the while being good citizens doing the mask wearing/social-distancing/hand washing thing.

We also have decent, if not extraordinary TV. But, as you may have heard, it’s an election year, which, in Alabama, means relentless ads from alarmingly White GOP candidates, each trying to outdo the others in pronouncements of fealty to our moronic President and his cult of stupidity and death. Again, totally expected, but still… so goddamed… lame. Makes me want to jump up and finally order that “Race Traitor” t-shirt I’ve had my eye on. Politically, the only good news here is that incumbent Senator Doug Jones (D-Sane), while still an underdog, might actually have a shot.

Otherwise, we are doing well and remark pretty much every single day on how lucky we are to be (a) retired and (b) in good health, and have (c) decent insurance and (d) no kids. Now, if we can just vote in a government that is (e) competent and (f) gives an actual fuck…

Stay strong, stay kind, stay alive. And stay in touch.

Onward.

Rodger

Reflections From Roma #07

Felicitations From Fairhope #07

07 May 2020

Hello there… Rodger French here.

We’re another month into The Trump Virus and I thought I’d check in. A.J. and I are doing well. Baldwin County, Alabama is relatively unscathed and folks here are pretty considerate about  “social distancing,” a term that I have come to detest almost as much as “at the end of the day” and “jaw dropping.” Anyway, we’ve been moving and sorting all our worldly goods, so our social life consists mainly of trips to (a) the grocery, (b) the gas station, and (c) Lowe’s Home Improvement, which is apparently where Lower Alabamians go now instead of church.

We count ourselves as fortunate indeed, since we have the ability to be safe and no choice but to stay busy. We have also caught an enormous break with the weather, as this spring has been just wonderful: Fine and dry days, cool nights, and - thank Dog - low humidity. It’s made the trauma of moving more bearable, and I think we’ve got a shot at being fully sorted out (including the guest room) before the inevitable heinous summer weather sets in.

[Musical Sidebar - I look forward to one day resuming practice on my beautiful red, Italian accordion, which perches gloriously in my studio/man cave, mocking my musical aspirations without mercy.]

Speaking of… As you may remember, I left Roma early for the ATL in order to participate in a production of “Indecent” at The Theatrical Outfit. I’ve been looking for an opportunity to say something about the experience and this is as good a time as any. As the great Oscar Levant once remarked, that’s like “trying to create a concise nebula from a dispersed confusion.” Nevertheless...

It’s fair to say that theatrical opportunities this meaningful are few and far between for accordionists, so it was an honor to be part of this one. “Indecent” is a terrific, demanding play (our director referred to it as “a beast”) that requires an absurd level of talent, sensitivity, and effort. Frankly, I’m still amazed that it all came together, but theatre magic really does work. 

Everyone - cast, crew, designers, administrators - brought their A game, with powerful and magnificent results. The cast became a tight, almost familial unit, delivering performances that were resonant with passion, heartache, humor, and joy. Coming to the theatre and performing onstage - as a member of this troupe telling this story - felt less like going to a gig and more akin to an act of devotion, such as attending church. Or, in this case, temple. We laughed a lot, we cried every night, and we made great theatre.

Then, one week into the run, we cancelled. It was, of course, the responsible thing to do, and it broke our hearts. But what we created lives within us and all the people who came to see the show. And a lot of us are keeping in touch, and that will just have to do for now.

[Administrative Mensch Sidebar - Hats off to The Theatrical Outfit for honoring contracts in spite of having to close “Indecent” two weeks early and, in the process, losing a ton of money. Well done.]

Now, in other news…

I have finally finished Happy To Be Here - Vol. 5: Reflections From Roma, the fifth and final collection of postings from my career as a State Dept. wingman and occasional employee. It is available on the evil amazon.com at a very reasonable price.

And finally…

I have just received a new shipment of Loose Endz CDs. If you do not have a copy and are interested, please contact me and we’ll make all appropriate arrangements.

I guess that does it for now. Thanks, and keep staying alive.

Onward.

Rodger