PopWars – Coke vs. Pepsi ~ that sort of thing.

July 22, 2026July 22, 2026

Beacon

Our next-door neighbor took the train through Beacon on her way to New York the same day we drove there. She paralleled the Thruway and then the Hudson while we cut diagonally through the Catskills, where the air quality index reached 359 because of the wildfires in Canada. We decided to drive because we planned to visit Storm King Art Center, about twenty miles away.

We decided to go to Storm King on Friday and Dia Beacon on Saturday, as rain was predicted. We found an Italian restaurant our first night there and split a delicious spicy shrimp dish. We told the waitress how much we liked the sauce, and she said many of the regulars order that dish with a side of pasta and mix the two. Next time.

On Friday, our anniversary, we had reservations at another Italian spot, “Amacord,” with a typeface to match the movie. We split a shrimp-and-polenta appetizer, a whole roasted orata, and a Mediterranean salad. They served us a complimentary glass of champagne with an orange slice for our anniversary.

It rained hard while we were inside the warehouses of Dia Beacon—a sound installation from Mother Nature.

We found a bar at the end of Main Street that was showing the third-place match of the World Cup. The bar was a little rough. A guy at the table next to us was wearing a T-shirt that read, “Please Do Not Feed the Whores Drugs.” Beacon has a terrific IPA called Wrench. We had two of those and were considering leaving at the half when England was up 4–0, but I’m so glad we hung in there to see France come back before eventually going down. And despite the fact that the bar had the English flag over it and an Arsenal supporters sign, it seemed most of the crowd was cheering for France.

The smoke cleared, and we sat on the roof of our hotel as the sun set over the Hudson.

We drove home early on Sunday in order to get to John’s Gilmore’s memorial. Traffic on the Thruway came to a complete halt near Seneca Falls so we were an hour late. We got home in time to watch the thrilling World Cup final. We had been for Spain all along and it was so satisfying to see them play that beautiful possesion game of one touch passes to outfox the great Messi and company. Not even Trump could spoil their victory.

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July 18, 2026July 18, 2026

Big Toy Store

The modern giants of sculpture are mostly all represented at Storm King (I couldn’t find Chilida’s name on the list) and the 500 acres of rolling hills along the Hudson is their giant playground. We walked seven and a half miles ( sometimes in circles) and we didn’t see it all but we made sure we found Sol Lewitt, Henry Moore and David Smith. You couldn’t miss Alexander Calder and it was majestic. We loved David Von Schlegell’s three floating, aluminum, tubular squares and we spent some time studying it from various vantage points.

Richard Serra “Schunnemunk Fork” at Storm King Art Center

I first became aware of Richard Serra when his “Tilted Arc” met with all that controversy. I have followed him since and I love his heroic slabs of steel but also his graphic work. The four slabs he installed here, spread over ten acres, each emerge from the hillside, a wondrous collaboration between god and man.

Alyson Shotz “Mirror Fence” at Storm King Art Center

Alyson Shotz’s “Mirror Fence” is such a simple concept, a picket fence covered in mirrors, 138 feet long in a perfectly straight row, keeping nothing in or out but reflecting its surroundings. You have to look to even see it.

Alfred Hrdlicka “Golgotha” (1963) at Storm King Art Center

Alfred Hrdlicka’s “Golgotha” (1963), named after the site of the crucifixion, is startling in this setting. So human, no steel girders involved, it would be at home in the first century Roman and Greek sculpture wing of the Metropolitan. I really loved this one as it seemed to bring everything back to earth.

Ellsworth Kelly “Untitled, 1982” (a stainless-steel "totem" piece) at Storm King Art Center — Ellsworth Kelly “Untitled, 1982” (a stainless-steel “totem” piece) at Storm King Art Center

Ellsworth Kelly has a way of clearing the air. His work is so clean, so essential, so right on. There is nothing more to say. Here it is.

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July 17, 2026July 17, 2026

1976

We were living in an apartment on Dartmouth Street, in a house that Tim Schapp owned, when we decided to get married. Peggi bought a dress from a small shop on Monroe Avenue and I had a suit made by the Turkish tailor who had a shop on St. Paul in the building where New Math practiced.

We rented the non denominational chapel at Colgate, across from Highland Park and a friend of my parents, Jim Hughes, officiated. My brother Fran played some Weather Report tracks on a turntable. My sister, Amy, carried some flowers up the aisle and my brother, Mark, took photos.

Joe Barrett was performing in a play that day at UR Summer Theatre so he couldn’t make it but John Gilmore and Brad Fox, longtime Rochester buddies, were there. We were so happy that so many of our friends from Indiana, where we had gone to school, were able to celebrate with us. Rich, Kim and Dave, Norm and Pam. Steve Hoy was our best man and Peggi’s sister was the maid of honor. Three of Peggi’s girlfriends came from Detroit. We had about ten people sleeping in our apartment that weekend.

My sister, Ann and three of my brothers, John, Tim and Fran took us out to dinner on Sunday and I learned one of them met a foreign exchange student who was working as an au pair for a couple at our wedding. He followed her half way around the world like the Wreckless Eric song.

Steve Hoy cracking me up at the front table

My mother laughing at our wedding reception

Peggi's parents, my parents, our wedding — Peggi’s parents, my parents, our wedding

Steve ogling Peggi's girlfriend Sally — Steve ogling Peggi’s girlfriend Sally

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July 15, 2026July 18, 2026

Sciuri – Sciuri

I’m planning to play this 45 from 1964 at Skylark Lounge tonight. I found it at the Bop Shop. “Sciuri – Sciuri” is a Sicilian folk song by Francesco Paolo Frontini in 1883. Luisa & Gabriella made it a hit in 1964 and the duo split shortly after. The track helped establish Gabriella Ferri as one of Italy’s greatest 20th-century cabaret voices. I couldn’t find the song on Apple Music or Spotify but I found a live (dubbed) version on YouTube. Here’s an English translation.

Jasmine flowers and little creepers,
I don’t sing because I feel in love,
I only sing to clear my mind and pass the time.

(chorus)
Flowers, flowers, flowers all year round,
The love you gave to me, I give it right back to you.

Saturday, as we know, gladdens the heart,
Blessed is the man who has a beautiful wife.
He who has a beautiful one spends money on her,
He who has an ugly one feels his heart dying.

Red roses in blossom,
Pity the poor person who believes your words.
I don’t want you anymore, you can leave!

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July 14, 2026July 14, 2026

More Elephants

We’re bad about getting our car serviced on schedule. We don’t drive it enough, they say. So rather than waiting for the odometer to reach such-and-such a mileage, we’re prompted to bring it in after so many months, and we’re always late. But it’s always fun dropping it off at B&B Automotive and walking over to Seneca Park, either across the river or down one of the paths that parallel it. The car is always ready by the time we return.

We walked down John Gilmore’s street on our way to the park and stopped in front of his house, thinking of him. It was all closed up, with no sign of life other than the rabbit sitting on his front lawn.

We were in the park at eight this morning, so the zoo wasn’t open when we got there. There is a window in the fence by the giraffe enclosure, but they were all looking inside this morning while workers cleaned their area. Farther down we could see the elephants. Two seemed to be having a conversation while they scooped up dirt with their trunks and threw it onto their undersides. Another was being kept in a small fenced-in area. About an hour later, as we were walking back from the other side of the lake, we could hear what sounded like an elephant having an orgasm.

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July 13, 2026July 13, 2026

Midnight Special

Margaret Explosion poster for Skylark Lounge July 15 7PM

I’m a little worried this might be too much—spinning records before and after a set with the band. The initial idea, a set of jazz 45s followed by the band and then a set of party 45s, seemed more interesting than playing two sets, so we booked it.

Pulling records for the two sets got a little crazy. I could have easily fit many of the records into either set, so I kept confusing myself about which one I was building. Jimmy Smith’s “Midnight Special” is party jazz. I’m starting the second set with it.

I think this gig will feature the whole band. And because Skylark is a nightclub, we’ll play through the sound system, which means Ken will bring his electric bass and the rest of us will go through the PA.

Jack made it to the Jazz Fest gig, but he was unable to make the last two Little Theatre gigs. Those two nights—with sax, cello, bass, and drums (and no bass clarinet or guitar)—were like night and day. The first took us into messy territory with no subject, just vamps with no body. The second took its time and eased into things that allowed a melody to come to the fore. Peggi can always do that if she has the room.

Because we don’t rehearse and we don’t have any songs, all we can do is talk about it. That, and relax and stay open.

Boat 2004

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July 12, 2026July 12, 2026

Life’s Too Short

I set the alarm most Sundays for 3 p.m. No matter where we are we tune in to WAYO’s Up On The Roof with Kyle. Today was no exception. His mix of early soul, jazz, R&B, doo-wop, and lesser-known 45s from the fifties through the seventies is exquisite. His radio voice alone takes you back a notch. And we’ve seen him spinning records a few times, most recently at Rochester Rapid Response Network’s benefit at Skylark, where we introduced ourselves. We met his friend Kelley there too, and Kelley suggested we all get together and take turns spinning 45s.

On Friday it happened. They each walked in with a 45 carrying case and we got down to business. Kyle started things off with a record he had just managed to track down, Irma Thomas’s “Anyone Who Knows What Love Is (Will Understand).” Worth every penny he paid for that one! Kelley played a version of “Scotch and Soda” that was every bit as good as the Kingston Trio version I had ready to go. Kyle pulled out a Jamaican pressing on the Barron’s label, Joya Landis doing “When the Lights Are Low.” Kyle told us he has this idea to do a whole night somewhere where they can turn the lights down and play slow songs all night.

The Sapphires’ “Who Do You Love?,” Bertha Tillman’s “Oh My Angel,” Stax’s Wendy Rene, the familiar Barbara Mason with “Yes I’m Ready,” and Barbara Lewis’s “Pushing a Good Thing Too.” We have four Barbara Lewis 45s, but not this one. That is, we didn’t. Kyle told us he had two copies and gave us one. Peggi and I were pretty rabid music fans during this period, and these young guys can play a whole set of songs that are new to us.

We were out walking today when the alarm went off. Bo Diddley’s “Surfers Love Call,” Larry Birdsong’s “Since You Left Me Behind,” Della Reese’s “Blow Out the Sun,” and the Lafayettes’ “Life Is Too Short.”

Life is too short, but let’s not dwell on that.

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July 10, 2026July 10, 2026

Another Row

We put another row of arugula in and another row of lettuce, one that supposedly can handle the heat. Everything is going great guns with all the rain we’ve had. Lake Ontario is still more than a foot above normal. But I’m not complaining. So many parts of the country don’t have enough rain.

We’re keeping up with Cape Fear, watching an episode each week. That is about all the TV we’ve had time for with all the World Cup matches. Javier Bardem is so good! Bardem and his wife, Penélope Cruz, have (so far) been the most natural-looking celebrities in the stands at the World Cup. Unless they are better actors than I think, they genuinely looked like they were having a good time. We liked both earlier versions of Cape Fear, the one with Robert Mitchum and then the one with Robert De Niro, and we camped on Cape Fear a few times on our way down to Savannah, where my in-laws retired. This version is on another level. I hope they don’t wreck it.

And if you are looking for lighter fare, I would suggest the feel-good Neil Diamond movie Song Sung Blue. Years ago, while vacationing with Peggi’s parents on Hilton Head, we went to see a Neil Diamond cover band in the hotel lounge. Peggi’s father had too much to drink at dinner, so he lay down and Peggi, her mom, and I whooped it up. The band was sensational, so much fun. And I thought Neil was corny. I guess he is, but his songs are a life force.

“Solitary Man” wasn’t in the movie. I bought that 45 in the sixties, and I still have it. I might give it a spin tonight when we have a few friends over for a 45 party.

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July 8, 2026July 8, 2026

250

Two big guys and their smoker in Durand Eastman Park

All the picnic pavilions were full (or booked) when we walked through the park on the Fourth. These two guys were smoking meat for a party of one hundred. We stopped to talk for a bit. Peggi asked them what they were smoking, and the guy on the right said, “Just some yard weed.” We laughed, and Peggi said, “No, in the smoker.”

I was intrigued by the two gas cans hanging off the side of the smoker. They said, “It’s not gasoline, it’s cement.” And he pronounced cement like “see-ment.” He said the weight keeps the cooker from rolling over when he opens the top.

We had an invitation to a loft party downtown. The building overlooks the river and is right next to where the city sets off the fireworks. We decided to go low-key and join Kathy in her backyard overlooking the bay. The people on the other side usually put on a show for the boaters, and this year they went all out.

Today is our first day off from soccer in a month. The quarterfinals start tomorrow with only eight teams remaining. Our favorites—Spain, France, and Brazil—are all still in. I was pretty certain the U.S. team would go out when they met one of the European teams, and Belgium made short work of them. I felt sort of sorry for them, playing their best striker only after an intervention from Trump. Can you imagine how the world would have reacted if they had pulled off an upset? The guy wrecks everything he touches.

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July 6, 2026July 6, 2026

Same Wavelength

George Wegman "Broad Street Bridge" series at Dove Center in Geneva NY — George Wegman “Broad Street Bridge” series at Dove Center in Geneva NY

Geneva, just forty minutes away on the northern tip of Seneca Lake, is one of those cities time has forgotten, except for those who live there of course. On a warm Friday evening the downtown area around Linden and Exchange Streets was hopping. We had driven here to see the Wildroot Group show at the Dove Block Project and after finding a parking spot we walked by two bands playing out on the sidewalk. The first was doing a Merle Haggard number and the one out front of the Lake Drum Brewery was playing a dub funk thing.

Pete Monacelli was showing some beautiful oil and ballpoint-pen on canvas paintings from his 2015 “These Are My Rivers” series. He was holding court when we walked in so we went right to the art. These George Wegman paintings were like a magnet. As we studied them George came over to say hi and he started to explain these paintings. He and Katie were downtown when it started raining and they sought shelter under the Broad Street Bridge. I stopped him, telling him you do not have to explain these to me. I know exactly what they are all about.

Just a few weeks ago I had posted a series of photos I took under bridges where the city has painted over graffiti. George was in a band in the sixties, The Hangmen. A friend of his came over and George introduced me as his favorite drummer. The other guy said something about Steve Gadd, a famous Rochester session drummer, and George said, “No, Paul is on the other end of the spectrum.” I loved that.

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July 4, 2026July 5, 2026

Final Verse

John Gilmore at the Little Theatre Café for a Margaret Explosion show.

Someone we don’t really know recently asked, “Whatever happened to that guy that used to come out to Margaret Explosion shows and sit up front in a lounge chair.” I told John that someone had asked us that and he laughed, happy to have been remembered. He said he was feeling stronger and hoped to make it out to a show again.

Bob Mahoney called this morning to tell us that John had passed, at home, maybe three days ago. That didn’t add up because we had received a text from him on Thursday afternoon, a picture of his son, Pat, graduating. We congratulated John, our last brief connection.

John Gilmore and Bill Hill in Madres — John Gilmore and Bill Hill in Madras

John brought this photo over a while ago. He was pretty sure the other guy was Rex Daniels, a classmate of ours who was killed by friendly fire in Viet Nam. I told him it was Bill Hill, not Rex but it is still a fabulous photo.

John moved up here from Long Island. I first heard about him as one of the guys from our high school class that drove a car straight through the T intersection of Holt and Ridge Roads. They crashed well into the cemetery. Dave Mahoney and I went up to look at the wreckage. That was my introduction to John. A high school wrestler, he was bursting at the seams with life.

Joe Barret and John Gilmore in Bloomington

John came out visit a few times while I was in Indiana and it was always somewhat of a clash. John was just a little rough for mellow Bloomington. I drove out there with John one time. He had a cooler between the two front seats of his VW van, loaded with Genny Beer. He drove, drank and talked the whole way.

Hand-colored photo of Mark Dodd and John Gilmore at 116 Dartmouth Street

John had a Jeep when I returned to Rochester with Peggi. We will never forget screeching through downtown on 490 or missing a turn in Mendon and running off the road. John was entertaining us.

John Gilmore with his son, Willie, and Greg at our wedding in 1976 — John Gilmore with his son, Willie, and friend, Greg at our wedding in 1976

He already had a son by the time we were married and went on to have three more along with two daughters. A family man, but the one time we met him to play golf he was tripping on acid. John lived life to the fullest.

We went to a play with John and his wife, Kathe, a musical about Janis Joplin. He was carrying around cushions at the time and this one is familiar. John made the reservations and he posed with the sign on our table.

John Gilmore's mail box and farm field across the street from his house — John Gilmore’s mail box and farm field across the street from his house

He and his friends built a house in Geneseo. It seemed to me the middle of nowhere. Once he was in he threw a big party for all those that helped. When we got there John was sitting on top of the hood of a car that was driving in circles around his house. He was belting out the lyrics to Jefferson Airplane’s “Crown of Creation.”

Stan Merrill taking a photo of John Gilmore at Paul Dodd "Crime Faces" opening. — Stan Merrill taking a photo of John Gilmore at Paul Dodd “Crime Faces” opening.

John was the only one who called me Paulie. Bob was Bobby and John’s mid-career, drink-of-choice, vodka and ginger ale, was a “Johnny.” He lived life to the fullest.

John Gilmore with Wavy Gravy at the Little Theatre Café — John Gilmore with Wavy Gravy at the Little Theatre.

John was like a character out of Kerouac book. He could recite Lord Buckley verse. We went to a Ken Kesey talk with John — the premier of the Wavy Gravy movie at the Little and a Grateful Dead show in Boston.

We bonded over a Traffic album we were listening to in my bedroom at my parents home. John was always there for the music. Pete, shown here with John, plays piano on the “Ballad of John Gilmore” (below.)

His career as an electrician at Kodak came to an abrupt end and he wore a suit for a few days while he tried to find a new job. He asked me to take this photo of him in a suit. We are going to miss John.

"Ballad Of John Gilmore" by Margaret Explosion. Recorded live at the Little Theatre Café on 05.08.13. Peggi Fournier - sax, Ken Frank - bass, Pete LaBonne - piano, Bob Martin - guitar, Paul Dodd - drums. — “Ballad Of John Gilmore” by Margaret Explosion. Recorded live at the Little Theatre Café on 05.08.13. Peggi Fournier – sax, Ken Frank – bass, Pete LaBonne – piano, Bob Martin – guitar, Paul Dodd – drums.

Listen to Ballad of John Gilmore by Margaret Explosion 2013

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July 2, 2026July 4, 2026

Beyond The Tyranny Of Good Taste

Carolyn's red plastic tablecloth after a rain — Carolyn’s red plastic tablecloth after a rain

Pete Monacelli has an art opening in Geneva tomorrow night. We stopped by his place after shopping at the Co-op and he gave me a new book he had just finished, Duchamp Takes New York, by John Strausbaugh. Pete said an artist friend had given it to him with instructions to pass it on to another artist. A review in the front of the book referred to Duchamp as having moved art “beyond the tyranny of good taste.” I’m thinking I’ll send it Duane’s way when I finish because I know no bigger Duchamp fan.

Pete and Emily packed up everything, sold their house, their cars—everything—and took the kids to Italy, where they have already bought a house. They rented a car, loaded it with their essentials, and drove to JFK. We’re gonna miss them.

We had been over there a few times during their sale, and on their last day here they texted to say they were getting ready to throw the rest away. We stopped by again and brought home a long 2×10, a pile of art paper and mat board, and a big fan. They didn’t have air conditioning either. Pete pointed to some drumsticks, but I forgot to pick them up.

The next morning, as we walked by their empty house, I poked through their trash—years’ worth of family photos on top—looking for the sticks. Larry walked by with Ernie and we got talking. Peggi told him we had tried to buy some ligularia like his (they do well in the shade), and he suggested we just stop by and dig up the ones that had spread in his yard.

Of course, any visit to Larry’s mandates time talking about and looking at art. Larry had just finished Life with P. Journals, 1966–1976 and offered to let me borrow it. I’m bad with real books because I can’t help circling passages I love and putting asterisks at the top of a page—or worse—so I might just buy the book. We told Larry we had seen the show in New York. We actually spent half a day at the small 18th Street Hauser & Wirth. I told him I would send him some pictures from the show.

It was a beautiful day on Friday, so the downtown library had us perform outside in the courtyard. Garry Geer took some photos.

Margret Explosion poster for July 2nd gig at Little Theatre Café. Photo by Garry Geer.

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July 1, 2026July 5, 2026

Luck

David Murray performing with Kahil El’Zabar at the Bop Shop in Rochester, New York

David Murray and Kahil El’Zabar returned to the Bop on Monday night. We first saw them together twenty-five years ago at the old Bop Shop Atrium. The recording from that concert was released on Delmark. I shot this video of the two of them ten years ago in this same location. As Murray told the crowd, “I’ve been all around the world, and you people don’t know how good you have it here, in this place.” Peggi and I sat down front, just behind our brother-in-law (right).

After reading James Blood Ulmer’s obituary I had to play his “Are You Glad to Be in America” 45. I might have known this before, but while reading the credits on the sleeve I noticed that David Murray played tenor sax on it. He has recorded with Max Roach, Charles Mingus, Cecil Taylor, Jack DeJohnette, Chico Hamilton, Elvin Jones, Archie Shepp, and Pharoah Sanders. He is a co-founder of the World Saxophone Quartet. And it was a joy beyond words to hear him play in such an intimate setting. We don’t know how lucky we are.

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June 28, 2026July 1, 2026

Modern Dance In Postmodern Days

Elizabeth told us a few times that if we ever sold our house in the city she would buy it. The thought was unthinkable, but twenty years ago it came to be.

She recently contacted us to say that two letters, addressed to us at her address, had come from a Paul Taylor. She left them between the two front doors, and we eventually picked them up. We learned Paul had moved back to the area. He included a photo of his artwork on an invitation to a dance performance he had commissioned at MUCCC.

We left the house for the eight o’clock performance just minutes after watching Spain defeat Uruguay. Our names weren’t at the door, but we went in anyway. The house was full, and we took two seats down front, close enough for one of the dancers to brush my leg. We looked around for Paul, but we could only vaguely remember what he looked like forty-five years ago when his wife, Jeanne, danced behind the screen at Personal Effects’ multimedia show at the Community Playhouse.

There were nine short pieces. Some were cringe, but most were startlingly good. A Taiko drum and woodblock piece performed in coveralls. A dancer in a backlit, scrim-covered cage performing to a spoken-word piece. Paul Taylor’s piece, performed by Claire Spenard to Jonah Kreitner’s atmospheric “Spiral Jetty,” was our favorite. Spenard opened under a blanket and, with movement that was at once physical and graceful, shed it, commanding the space in a dreamlike dance before rolling herself back up inside.

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June 22, 2026June 22, 2026

Life Is Short

I startled a fawn the other morning as I went out to pick up the paper. It was sleeping in our pachysandra. It jumped up and ran headfirst into our deer fence.

We went down to the garden this morning and heard a clicking noise. Something was shorting out the four strands of electric wire that surround our garden. We were prepared to find a toad with one leg on the wire or maybe a chipmunk. Sometimes they’ve been on the fence so long they are charred.

This was different.

A deer leg was pinning one of the electric wires against the metal fence, and the rest of the deer was missing. The thigh was still showing spots and the leg was small, so it must have been a fawn—maybe the same fawn.

Our garden is in our neighbor’s backyard, and they both came out at some point. Everyone had a different theory as to how the deer met its quick demise.

A few hours later a mama deer and her newborn twins sauntered by our front window.

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June 18, 2026July 5, 2026

Hey DJ

Charlie Watts watercolor by Peggi Fournier based on Duane Sherwood photo of Charlie at "Ode To a Highflying Bird" book signing in NYC — Charlie Watts watercolor by Peggi Fournier based on Duane Sherwood photo of Charlie at “Ode To a Highflying Bird” book signing in NYC

It was so good to see Skylark Lounge packed last night for Rochester Rapid Response Network’s (RRRN) fund raiser and dance party. But the bar was so crowded it was tough to get a beer. The pop trio, Missu Kissu played a set and WAYO’s Kyle Brown spun 45s. We told him how much we love his Sunday afternoon show and we hung out behind him in the dj booth for the rest of the night, chatting about 45s. Kelley, a friend of his, was back there as well and he told us about a fabulous store in Detroit that has hundreds of boxes of soul 45s. We hatched a plan get together and each bring a stack of singles to play.

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June 18, 2026June 18, 2026

The Other Half

Painting in house on 2026 Landmark Society Tour

The Landmark Society’s spring tour took us (and hundreds of other retirees) to Beach Avenue in Charlotte where we toured four homes on Lake Ontario, the Secret Sidewalk and Holy Cross Church. We learned Beach Avenue used to run behind the houses on the north side of the street, where the Secret Sidewalk is today. And a street car ran where the Avenue is today. When the City of Rochester annexed Charlotte in 1916 they moved Beach Avenue to where is today. Some of the homes still show signs of being oriented to the north. Of course most have been either rebuilt or added onto beyond recognition.

One of the homes, our least favorite, was brand new. Solar panels on the roof, heat pump for air conditioning, an elevator, a full bar and rec room in the basement and this painting. You are not supposed to take any photos while in the homes but I couldn’t resist sneaking one of this.

The homes on the tour were spread out so we walked along the Avenue to the destinations and then back along the sidewalk with the huge back porches, decks and outdoor living areas on one side and the the boathouses and lake patios on other. The lawns all seem to run together back there. I was picturing a croquet tournament and gin and tonics but it wasn’t even noon.

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June 15, 2026June 15, 2026

Rain Delay (Live)

I have not been here in a week and there is so much to catch up on. We were watching a delayed broadcast of Netherlands vs. Japan last night, rooting for Japan (even though Frenkie de Jong is one of our favorite players). The match ended in a draw at 8 p.m., and then there was this—the president’s birthday-party fight on the White House lawn. I was reminded of that scene in Christmas Vacation where Randy Quaid pulls up in his trailer.

These four lugs killed time while the rain clouds passed. Peggi said they looked like stuffed sausages in their tiny Hegseth suits. Three were sporting extra-large Trump shoes, but the American-flag socks stole the spotlight at first. And then there were the mangled cauliflower ears on these guys. You can’t see them in my picture, but according to ESPN, “every combat athlete wants one.”

President Trump and Joe Rogan at birthday party fight at White House

The four lugs, Joe Rogan, and the fighters they interviewed all described the scene as “surreal.” We need a new word. Peggi thought it played like a Stephen King novel. Larry Ellison spent $7.7 billion for the exclusive broadcast rights to the Ultimate Fighting Championship. Ads for bourbon and crypto filled the screen. The president hardly looked like he was having a good time.

We bailed before the first fight, before Josh Hokit acknowledged his “Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ,” and, “Michelle Obama is a man. Am I right, America?,” before Trump patted Hokit’s hand.

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June 5, 2026July 5, 2026

Steampunkers

Like many homeowners, we have a second bathroom in our basement. Because the shower fixtures are mounted to an exterior concrete-block wall, the plumbing is out front, exposed. The shower had leaked for years and I kept cranking down the nut behind the handles, but the leak would always come back. We asked a plumber if he could just replace the handles and they said, no. The leak will just come back.

Mike from McKenna Plumbing told us, “What you need is a new faucet.”

All these years I thought the handles you turn to get the water flowing were the faucets. The plumber explained that the faucet was the brass body the handles were attached to. Ours was simply worn out.

In the last few years we’ve noticed this look—exposed copper or brass pipes, analog pressure gauges, and vintage wheel valves—becoming trendy in places like restaurant bathrooms. It even has a fitting name in design circles: “Steampunk.” So I guess we were steampunk before it had a name.

McKenna was a delight to work with, but finding a new brass faucet like the one we had was a real challenge. Mike, one of their plumbers, suggested I use ChatGPT. I uploaded a picture of our existing fixture and eventually found the parts.

The way the handles are mounted in this new set up you can’t really see which one is hot and which is cold. But I am dyslexic enough to have looked for them on the sides. Mike put the C handle on the hot feed and the H handle on the cold feed. Now, that’s “steampunk.”

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June 3, 2026July 5, 2026

In The Far East

From Steve Lampert's collection of handbills for Slugs in the East Village 1967 - 1972 — From Steve Lampert’s collection of handbills for Slugs in the East Village 1967 – 1972

I have one Lee Morgan 45 but he is featured on three of the Art Blakey singles I have. I played the Morgan record, “Hey Chico,” last night while we were preparing dinner and Peggi said it sounded like Frug music. She demonstrated it.

I didn’t know much about Lee Morgan, so I googled him and found Ethan Iverson’s Substack article on the movie I Called Him Morgan. Morgan’s wife preferred to call him “Morgan,” and then she shot him at Slugs on the far east side of lower Manhattan.

We watched the movie last night and loved it. Fellow musicians and friends paint a loving picture of Lee. He was a fully formed musician at eighteen. Helen tells her side of the story, and together they paint a picture of Slugs, where nearly every jazz great of that foundational era performed.

If that is not enough up top there are more Slugs handbills here.

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