April 1, 2023
https://ptatlarge.typepad.com/ptatlarge/2023/04/homegrown-yard-art-springs-up-in-watertown-ma.html
A bunch of my neighbors have a playful quirky sense of humor that pops up every April. Like daffodils they are instant mood enhancers.
If you couldn’t travel to San Capistrano to witness the arrival of the swallows in March, you can drive around Watertown, MA to witness yard art displays that nest in yards all over town every April.
The idea of YARD ART, one of the few upsides after COVID-19 shut the country down in 2020. It gave a bunch of my neighbors an idea to allay anxiety about the scary pandemic.
YARD ART invited Watertoonians to take part in a town wide art project that could be done safely and energize our sense of community - a brilliant idea by which we could get in touch with our inner kindergartener or Picasso and put it on display.
Subject matter wide open. “It can be an assemblage, a sculpture, an art project, a lighting arrangement—let your imagination run free! Installations will be on display the entire month of April.”
The idea took off like an untethered helium balloon…and lifted spirits right along with it.
After a year of isolation, vaccinations, boosters, washing everything down with antiseptic wipes every time I masked up to go to the market, I was more worn down than I realized. I didn’t sign up to make YARD ART. No matter. When I drove around, I felt a tribal sense of community and was tickled by the kooky displays. Whether intentional or not, the project was an affirmative mental health initiative.
Oh boy. The neighbors ran with it. See photos below.
Yard Art participants are masters of scale. One display a few blocks from my home hangs all the way down the two floors of the house, indolently fluttering with the breeze that comes late in the morning.
Another is so small that I’d have driven right by it if the YARD ART sign hadn’t been planted next to it.
https://ptatlarge.typepad.com/ptatlarge/2023/04/homegrown-yard-art-springs-up-in-watertown-ma.html
Photos by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.
Homage to André Kertész (1894 - 1985) American (b. Hungary)
Andre Kertész was a pioneer of street photography and a remarkable still life photographer. In a career that spanned seven decades, he captured everyday life with poetic beauty and elevated ordinary objects to exquisite art.
https://photogpedia.com/andre-kertesz-quotes/
Kertész on Kertész
I like high shots. If you are on the same level, you lose many things.
Everything is still interesting to me. You do not have to imagine things; reality gives you all you need. Everything is a subject. Every subject has a rhythm.
I do not document anything. I give an interpretation. The moment always dictates in my work. What I feel, I do. This is the most important thing for me. Everybody can look, but they don’t necessarily see. I never calculate or consider; I see a situation and I know that it’s right, even if I have to go back to get the proper lighting.
Seeing is not enough; you have to feel what you photograph.
I just walk around, observing the subject from various angles until the picture elements arrange themselves into a composition that pleases my eye.
Kertész high shot
Tamburello high shot
Reasons to ride Amtrak Boston to NYC…fleeting vistas of deep woodlands you can almost smell as train heads westward from Boston, stretches of rural Massachusetts and Connecticut with scenes of abandoned and operational farmlands never seen from the highway, pass the burly industrial river port New London on the Thames River, brilliant seascapes along the south coast of Connecticut as the train heads along the coast. Suddenly the New York City skyline appears with outlying residential areas in foreground... with the ca-chunk-ca-chunk ca-chunk rocking rolling soundscape as the coach speeds then slows to a steady march approaching the city…your imagination anticipating what awaits upon arrival .
Photo by K.B.Jones
Scenes of the day at The Longfellow Club in Wayland, MA.
September 18, 2022
A contingent of Pete Farricker's Ultimate Frisbee teammates show up for every ride and donate generously. The "Spirit of the Game" award was created to honor Pete Farricker's impact on the sport.
Several teams raised money for friends and relatives
with prompting from WCVB Meterologist Cindy Fitzgibbon the crowd shouts "Good Morning America!" ...she aired it on her "Eye Opener" weather forecast show the next day.
Presentations by Executive Director John Hedstrom and WCVB meteorologist Cindy Fitzgibbon.
Relaxing after the ride
Cheering arrivals...
Returning riders...
Photos by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.
Written in December 2022, a week after Rebecca "Becca" Wertheimer sent me the transcription of our interview at the Ride To Defeat ALS, held at the Longfellow Club in Wayland, MA September 18, 2022.
Becca created "STORIED", a terrific vehicle in a time when social media generally high-jacks authentic story telling.
Great interview by Rebecca "Becca" Wertheimer who created "STORIED". I composed this after she sent sent me the transcription of our interview at the Ride To Defeat ALS, held at the Longfellow Club in Wayland, MA September 18, 2022.
Consider this a 20 minute podcast in which Becca asks how and why I created the ride, how and why I got the idea to carry the names of Honorary Riders in my bike bag during each ride, and my connection with Myke Farricker over the years. Myke's brother Pete, who succumbed to ALS, a member of a world championship frisbee team, is the red-headed athlete on our T-shirts.
Myke is the co-owner of the Longfellow Clubs in Natick and Wayland, MA where the ride has been held for over 20 years. Myke adds to the story right after I finish.
Riders sat down to share their stories of why they rode in the fund raiser and for whom they were riding. https://www.storiedme.com
Storied is the answer to preserving family history, lore and funny tales. It is a unique way to facilitate sharing what you love, admire, and have learned from those around you."
As a Licensed Clinical Social Worker for over a decade, I have spent hours honing the skills of listening, asking questions, and helping people feel comfortable sharing. With Storied, I use these skills to promote joy and connection
Becca welcomes every interviewee, makes it an easy space for everyone to tell their story. True to her purpose, she promoted joy for me and Myke as we had the opportunity to tell the " creation story" of the ride.
Myke recalled how we met at a personal growth seminar in the 1970s and later joined forces to merge my solo Positive Spin for ALS and a group ALS fund-raiser held at The Longfellow Club into the Positive Spin for ALS and now the current Ride To Defeat ALS.
The Ride To Defeat ALS raised $435,000 in 2022 and $3,555,225 total in the ride from 1995, which includes $300,000 from my solo rides
Riders did the "TALK WITH ME SHARE WITH THEM" process to say why and for whom they were riding. I've never such an opportunity to tell what I call the creation story of the ride that began with a visit to a neurologist at Mass General Hospital in 1975 and continues to this day. Once I began, the words came out in a torrent and in the most appropriate time and place to tell them, the September 18, 2022 Ride To Defeat ALS.
Myke had the shirts and hats made for our first rides in 2003!
This event is the great grandmother of ALS fund raisers. A Positive Spin for ALS that I created in 1995 was the first bike ride in the country dedicated to raise money for research and direct services to ALS patients. Now known as Ride to Defeat ALS, it became the template for rides that now take place in California, Florida, Idaho, Illinois, Massachusetts, Michigan, Oregon, and Washington.
As I note in my story with Becca, my solo fund-raising rides before merging to make it a participatory ride were 1995-2004 - I sent appeal letters before every ride and followed with Thank You letters to each contributor within a few weeks of completing the "Spins."
As referenced above, Sue McNichols showing up as I was preparing to get on my bike at Plymouth Rock, handing me an envelope then driving away is one of many amazing stories about my rides.
Appeal letter and Honorary Rider inserts that were in each appeal letter that I sent for my ride in 2020. The recording of "my story" in the link above explains how I was inspired to create "Honorary Riders," the "connective tissue" between me and the ALS community over the years.
FACTOID #1: While pedaling through Myles Standish State Forest south of Plymouth, MA in 1995, I said to self, "You're putting a positive spin on how you're dealing with this life change...if I do this ride again, that's what I'm going to name it...A Positive Spin for ALS"...and so it became!
FACTOID #2: During my June 14, 1997 ride, I was interviewed on air by Matt Pitta, WQRC Hyannis, MA. I had borrowed one of the first mobile phones from a friend so he could reach me and conduct the interview while I was pedaling through through Myles Standish Park. Way cool.
January 23, 2023
54 days before Spring...
Photo by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr,
December 25, 2022
"A Child’s Christmas in Wales" by Dylan Thomas
For decades, On Christmas Eve or Christmas Day I've read aloud my battered copy of "A Child’s Christmas in Wales," copyright 1954 by New Directions, illustrations copyright 1969 by Fritz Eichenberg
FIRST PAGE OF THE BOOK
Recounted in the voice of a man recounting his memories of Christmas in his home town in Wales.
"One Christmas was so much like another, in those years around the sea-town corner now and out of all sound except the distant speaking of the voices I sometimes hear a moment before sleep, that I can never remember whether it snowed for six days and six nights when I was 12 or whether it snowed for 12 days and 12 nights when I was six.
All the Christmases roll down toward the two -tongued sea, like a cold and head long moon bundling down the sky that was our street; and they stop at the rim of the ice-edged fish-freezing waves, and I plunge my hands in the snow and bring out whatever I can find. In goes my hand into that wool-white bell-tongued ball of holidays, resting at the rim of the carol singing sea, and out come Mrs. Prothero and the firemen."
THEN THIS PAGE the young narrator says...
“But that was not the same as snow,” I say. “Our snow was not only shaken from white wash buckets down the sky, it came shawling out of the ground and swam, and drifted out of the arms and hands and bodies of the trees; snow grew overnight on the roofs of the houses like a pure and grandfather moss, minutely white, ivied the walls and settled on top of the postman, opening the gate, like a dumb, numb thunderstorm of white, torn Christmas cards.”.
Stop. Take a minute ro read this aloud. Right now. Read it a couple of times till you get the rhythm. I wonder if you can picture it as your mouth, tongue and lips wrap themselves around the postcard description.
The words came naturally to Thomas. Everyone around him spoke in the Welch tongue, rich with simile, metaphor and descriptive language as thick as the white smoke from the peat turf drifting from chimneys in his neighborhood.
The language, the imagery, the words... beg to be read aloud. And capture the wonder of a lad with Christmas Day unfolding during December in Wales. I am old enough and lucky enough to have fond memories of sitting on the cushioned piano bench at the end of my grandmother and grandfather's dining room table, aunt and uncles along each side, my grandmother at the head of the table and my grandfatber to her left, where he would carve the turkey.
I read to my fourth graders every year of my 34 year career. I have a gift for language, speak functional French and Hindi. I feel the rhythm of Thomas's prose, revel in the way they roll off my tongue with a Welsh lilt.
I've listened to Thomas's version, It is heresy and self aggrandizing but I read it with the pace and flair of a natural born reader of stories. And that the bard would buy me a Guinness after listening to my version.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dylan_Thomas
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Child's_Christmas_in_Wales
The overhead canopy of the cosmos has been so extremely clear that it feels like I'm standing in an open air planetarium. Jupiter rules every night. Mars and Saturn are frequent sights. Amazing that I can capture a tiny sense of their grandeur with my iPhone.
Thursday December 29. 2022, Jupiter, mighty in the solar system, is the tiny dot to the right of a crescent moon.
Photos by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.
Thursday, December 8, 2022
The Invitation
https://www.armenianmuseum.org/mission
The gallery stroll includes viewing https://www.armenianmuseum.org/on-the-edge
The show is a coup for the museum.
https://www.armenianmuseum.org/staff-trustees
Thursday, December 8, 2022
About a quarter of Watertown's 35,329 population are of Armenian descent. A large contingent showed up for the Gallery Stroll tonight.
Arrive at The Armenian Museum of America
Stroll...
Socialize...
Dr. Chuck Hajinian, Board of Trustees, who will address the gathering later...
The show is a coup for the Armenian Museum of America
Admire the art...The gallery includes a new installation, On The Edge.....
Permanent exhibits includes the work of internationally acclaimed photographer Yousuf Karsh...
Sample tasty savory and sweet food...
Before the program begins, I enjoy a conversation with Mary Hilt, who created "Who Today Remembers: Portraits of Armenian Genocide Survivors."
Welcome remarks by Executive Director Jason Sohigian
and President of Board of Trustees Michele M. Kolligian
The surprise of the night...museum trustee Dr. Chuck Hajinian presents to Michele Kolligian the shawl worn by her grandmother in her wedding in 1914.
It is a miracle that the shawl reappeared at all. After the event, Dr. Hajinian wrote
"The shawl had note : 'this shawl worn at Araxi Kolligian’s wedding 1914'. We found out the wedding took place Dec 8 th 1914- it was returned to her grandchildren Michele and Nancy Kolligian on Dec 8th 2022. The shawl was consigned to the trash bin by an antiques dealer who did not recognize its value. It was rescued by Antiques dealer Paddy Nash. Dr Hajinian purchased this shawl and large lot from her. He then showed it all over the country as it is one of the finest knitted item he has ever seen. Finally it was time to be returned to the family."
Dr. Hajinian shows a photo of her grandparents as he presents the shawl to a stunned Michele. After collecting her emotions, Michele donates the heirloom shawl to the museum.
Art and Culture tonight for sure...Eternity will take a little longer.
Art, Culture, Eternity...
Goodnight...
WATERTOWN AND ARMENIANS...Google source
Grass roots start up of the Armenian Museum of America, from a church parish house in 1972 to a four story former bank in Watertown Square in 1988.
The museum has the largest collection of Armenian artifacts in North America
The third largest Armenian community in the United States is in Watertown, where between 7,000 and 8,000 Armenians account for about a quarter of the city's population.
Watertown population was 35,329 in the 2020 census.
Massachusetts is home to the second largest population of Armenians in the country. About 30,000 people in the state are of Armenian descent.
These numbers beg the question...why Watertown? The answer...The Hood Rubber Company that opened in Watertown in 1996...stay tuned for the story.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Armenian_Library_and_Museum_of_America
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Armenian_Americans
Photos by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr. (museum member)
First cup coffee series...listening to a reorganized collection of CDs while enjoying those first sips of rich coffee...
December 4, 2022
Keith Jarrett totally improvising, letting his inner skylark free on stage in front of a huge audience outdoors in Germany. His recording, made in 1975, became an early morning mantra that transformed me, my psyche tagging along, into an out of the blue surprising Zen moment .....by turns igniting ruminative contemplative cheerful and evocative interior solos of my own, ping-ponging as unexpected flights as Jarrett’s fingers press on just about every one of the 88 keys on the keyboard. Worries about my to-do list evaporated like mist on a summer morning, flashes like heat lighting on a hot August night inexplicably exposed vignettes of my life, past loves, dreams, disappointments, aspirations, regrets for things done/not done in a pure matter of fact way, no finger-pointing here only gratitude for having had them.
Music that appeals to me resonates in wells of memory so deep I can hear an echo as I peer down and exhale. Feels like Jarrett is peering down his own well,
I picture him bent over the keyboard, seemingly oblivious to the crowd of thousands quietly observing his creative genius, fingers on the keys, feet on the pedals, displaying a cognitive sentient mirror through which the audience can see themselves transformed into a dynamic, representational sense of their own interior landscape, like a Whistler watercolor, with a touch of his their own hearts in the wet paper.
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Photos by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.
November 26, 2022
Ceremonial rides To Honor ALS Patients
One way or another since 2004, Myke Farricker and I have created a commemorative event to honor ALS patients past and present.
Myke is co-owner of The Longfellow Club in Wayland, MA, the staging area for the first rides when the Positive Spin for ALS became a group event and Ride To Defeat ALS, The rides have raised over 3 million dollars for the ALS cause.
The first were short ceremonial bike rides in Wayland in 2002 the day after the "Positive Spin for ALS", later renamed "Ride To Defeat ALS", was completed.
In years after that, we strapped our bikes onto Myke's Prius, drove to Truro, MA, parked at a motel at the crest of Route 6 with a magnificent view of Provincetown, and pedaled about 9 miles to First Landing Park and the jetty at the very end of US Route 6A.
As in years past, we met with Susan Lyman whose husband Doug, a beloved EMT and volunteer fireman, died of the disease. We walk onto the jetty, the tangy smell of the salt marshes nearby, and in a moment of silence, honor the patients Myke and I have raised money for. For Myke, it’s personal. His brother Pete, known as Wheels" by his team mates, was a member of the Rude Boys 1982 UPA U.S. National Championship team, lost his life to ALS in 2001.
The tradition continues to cement a bond between me, Myke, and Susan. The challenge of finding a cure for amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, first diagnosed in 1869, continues. So will the Ride To Defeat ALS.
Myke and I are proud that the “Positive Spin for ALS” is the template for seven "Ride to Defeat ALS" rides now sponsored by ALS Association chapters around the country. They’re currently held in California, Illinois, Florida, Michigan, Oregon, Washington, and Massachusetts.
Historic marker at First Landing Park at the very end of U.S. Route 6 A..behind the marker is.the jetty where we take moments to honor the men and women who contributed or whose names were sent with contributions to the Positive Spin for ALS then the Ride to Defeat ALS
Myke had the shirts and caps made for our ceremonial ride in 2008. Myke's brother Pete "Wheels" Farricker was on the world championship Frisbee team, The Rude Boys, in 1982.
Every year we walk onto the jetty...moments of silence for every patient whose names were sent with contriburtions or who contributed themselves.
Mission accomplished November 26, 2022...
The MA Chapter ALS Association added this paving stone in my honor in 2002.
Myke, Susan and Paul at the paving stone honoring the rides made by Myke, Paul, and Sam Trumbo from the staging area about nine miles away in Truro, MA.
Susan Lyman has greeted us at every ceremonial ride...
November 26, 2022
Susan and her husband Ken Stebbins
Sam Trumbo made the ceremonial ride from the Salt Pond Visitor Center in Eastham to First Landing Park with Myke and me in 2007
https://www.nps.gov/caco/planyourvisit/visitorcenters.htm
History...we keep on truckin' for the cause,
https://ptatlarge.typepad.com/ptatlarge/als_positive_spin_for_als_stories/
More history...
2010 MA Chapter announement of 2010 Positive Spin for ALS
The event took place on Sunday, June 13, 2010 at the Longfellow Club in Wayland. Now in its 16th year, the Positive Spin is The ALS Association Massachusetts Chapter's longest running event. It began with just one rider - Paul Tamburello - and has since grown to include several hundred people riding in support of the fight against ALS. The Spin offers a challenge for riders of all skill levels. Whether you ride individually or as part of a team, it is an incredible day for all who participate!
The Burren, 247 Elm Street, Davis Square, Somervllle, MA 02144
If this band was any tighter, it would implode.
Fronted by Amy Kucharik, they perform with the timing of a seasoned show band.
With a nod of the head by Amy, the trombone, keyboard, percussion, and stand-up base players reel off rich solos with the cadences of the blues, rock, shuffle or swing songs on the playlist…every so often punctuated by Amy’s wild card solos with harmonica, ukulele, and this thing she does by pursing her lips together, a labial kazoo, to pardon the expression, that simulates a muted trumpet and often stops dancers in their tracks trying to figure out where the horn is coming from.
This is a big-time dance crowd. It looks and feels like every blues dancer within driving distance is in the room. A 15-minute blues dance lesson given by a member of the Blues Union warms up newcomers in a low key and enticing way,,,it's fun watching them get their backfields in motion.
There’s nothing like blues dancing to call down the spirits in whatever shape, form or style dancers can imagine. Unlike waltz, foxtrot, salsa, or rumba, blues is free style and driven by this band that grasps layers of its gritty spirit. Their unique brand of musicianship beams dancers into a fourth dimension, channeling the music with the playful, passionate, fun-loving gusto and style that blues has always inspired…and Tiger Moan delivers.
Don’t come to passively listen to the music, as fine as it is. Come to have it be the oxygen that courses through your arteries, animates your spirits, connects us to each other, arm in arm, body to body, on a dance floor filled with couples of every orientation, expressing themselves in the slow syncopation of a righteous blues song, a kaleidoscope of jazz styles, blues styles on the floor during any given song.
This is a collection of art forms in motion. If this were a museum, it would be a collection of modern art, American revival, and impressionist art forms. By the third song, the synergy meter pegs the needle.
With each song, the spontaneous energy of partners who have never danced before tests each other’s limits and possibilities. The dynamic form, function, and synchronicity when they get it all together is a sight to behold. The dancers are mostly their 20s 30s and 40s. Men and women in their 50s, 60s and beyond break out their moves as easily as they breathe.
Sitting at the bar and observing this is like watching Pablo Picasso and Kara Walker pushing artistic boundaries to create an amalgam of the new and the old in 4/4 time.
Photo by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.
Halloween, October 31, 2022
Night has fallen. Streetlights have automatically turned on, pools of illumination under each.
Around 5:30 PM, I hear chatter from down the street. First are the little kids, who can hardly contain their energy, dressed in their costumes, orange buckets in hand, politely chanting "Trick or Treat!," their parents standing on the sidewalk, smiling, probably relieved that the days of preparation and costume choosing are over. Some of the parents are pretty cool outliers in costume, sharing the fun moments as their kids, some for the first time, come trick or treating.
One of my neighbors, in solidarity with her daughter and loving every moment, is wearing a really cool T-Rex outfit as she shepherds kids from house to house.
Last there are the 12-14 year olds. They are too cool and too embarrassed to put on a costume but want to embrace this last piece of their childhood before letting go of trick or treating, not able to grasp that the next time they experience this ritual they may bs parents themselves bringing their own kids up a street on a cool autumn night for Halloween.
Photo by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.
The annual Festival of Lights celebrated by Hindus, Jains, Sikhs, and some Buddhists
One of my favorite holidays during my two years serving in the Peace Corps in Azamgarh, Uttar Pradesh, India...it symbolizes the spiritual "victory of light over darkness, good over evil, and knowledge over ignorance".
Hindus were well-versed in stories of gods and goddesses in religious history. Men I worked with enjoyed telling me, perhaps the only American they ever met, richly detailed stories about the hierarchy including Rama and Situ, Vishnu, Krishna, Lakshmi, Shiva, Kali and Ganesh.
Photo by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.
October 16, 2022
4:45 PM Sally, O’Briens Bar, Somerville, Massachusetts.
I arrive a few songs after the band hit the stage. Something feels off.
Something beyond the usual, late Sunday afternoon vibe with the Natural Wonders singing their usual set list in the order that feels like Sunday catechism. Rather than incense and the ringing of altar bells we have hip shaking rock 'n roll, smokey slow drag blues, and a dollop of do-wop. No wonder that the faithful call this gathering “choich”.
If energy had a color, this afternoon’s would be the iridescent purple of a priest’s vestments at High Mass.
The late Jesse Burkhardt, Jennifer Hawkins, Fred Griffeth
A scattering of men and women I’ve never seen here before sit at the tables and occupy some of the seats at the mahogany bar. I can’t see it, but I feel a form of energy not usually in the Sunday vibe.
Maybe they wandered in from the three blocks of vendor tents cheek by jowl lining Somerville Avenue in front of Sally O’Briens and every other establishment on that side of the street. It’s a bit of a retail madhouse out there.
Maybe they were swept in by some kind of retail fairy dust and floated in like dust motes and settled themselves into the tables and shares around the dance floor.
That must be it, says I.
Wrong.
Some men and women join the crowd on the dance floor. They clearly are not dancers. It’s as if some unseen spirit is bidding them to get up and do something that is not a natural response from them. A gesture to make their presence felt for reasons known only to themselves.
The Natural Wonders finish their set. No one moves. A man steps up to the microphone on the stage. The crowd turns to listen. I walk from my seat at the bar to the middle of the dance floor to hear what’s going on.
A man is speaking with a muted sense of urgency The kind that makes people stop their conversations out of respect and curiosity. I have no idea what’s happening, have never seen anything like it at this place where high octane music is an answered prayer to absolve any of our shortcomings. Or at least my shortcomings during the week. If dancing to high and high octane music is my penance, I will come here to confess every Sunday afternoon. But I digress.
Begorrah... I realize that I’m in an emotionally charged Irish wake in which stories about the deceased are meant to greases the skids for his trip to the great saloon in the sky. At ground level, richly detailed stories about the man assuage our grief and bid farewell. For those who didn’t know him, they’re a window into a man whose kindness and eccentricities were legend.
By the third story, I realize that he was the tall thin character who wore an oversized cloche cap, perfect sartorial choice for the thin-as-a-rail man with a carefully trimmed Van Dyke beard. By every story told, Jesse Burkhardt was a social fixture in the Cambridge scene known for his kindness. And the conspiratorial mischievous glint in his eyes.
Jesse was a Plough and Stars presence then a regular Sunday parishioner at St. Sally’s. And in the best Irish tradition, after each story about this man, we raise our glasses in thanks for the memories.
I didn’t know him personally but I sure do remember his incandescent presence. And the energy vibe that surrounded him like a halo.
By every account he was the witty fellow with the gift of uplifting the spirits of everyone with whom he encountered.With a mix of humor and stoked grief, every speaker added a story that certified the man's presence, as outsized as his cloche cap.
Jesse loved the music. You couldn’t miss him on the dance floor. He danced like a stork out of water with intention and immense joy. He’s one of those guys who perfectly fit the saying “Dance like nobody’s watching“ as he danced like a long-limbed stork out of water. Watching him express it was a joy in itself.
This afternoon a mighty cloud of grief was softened by heartfelt stories told by his dear friends, one after another, about the man’s gift of connecting and uplifting every one in his considerable aura.
Photos by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.
Credit to Susaan Straus for forwarding the photo of Jesse Burkhardt, Jennifer Hawkins, and Fred Griffeth and Susan Sullivan for photo montage of Jesse
10.10.22 Branch Line Restaurant, Arsenal Yards, Watertown, MA
“Join us September 30th through October 10th to celebrate Indigenous Food Week! Organized by the Pigsgusset Initiative, a working group of Watertown Citizens for Peace Justice and the Environment. Pigsgusset Initiative and Branch Line have partnered with acclaimed Wampanoag Chef Sherry Pocknett to bring you three Wampanoag dishes: Three Sisters Garden Succotash, Corn Cakes, and Cranberry Chutney. By introducing diners to Wampanoag cuisine, we honor culinary traditions perfected across hundreds of generations by the original peoples to inhabit this land.”
Serendipity: At a recent social at my house, the first since March 2020, my neighbor Mishy Lesser asked, “Would you put up a yard sign for this event?”
Mishy is one of the shakers and movers who created “Watertown Celebrates Indigenous People’s Day” along with a team from The Pigsgusset Initiative.
Mishy floated the idea to Branch Line Restaurant owner Garrett, who viewed it as an opportunity to widen the lens on the menu and serve cultural awareness along with food associated with Native American history.
Like a pebble tossed into a pond, the ripples of the original idea spread around town to lap against a well-known restaurant. a famous chef, community organizations and The First Parish of Watertown.
Thanks to a generous grant from the Watertown Community Foundation, Mishy reached out to Wampanoag chef Sherry Pocknett who developed a menu with Branch Line’s chef Ivan Conill.
The two chefs had fun together in the kitchen, tasting, tweaking, and beaming with delight. Then Chef Sherry and Mishy trained the kitchen and wait staff in the in the culinary history and meaning of the dishes.
Saturday evening, October 1, Branch Line Restaurant
My dining companion and I enter a culinary time machine and sample both of Chef Sherry Pocknett’s Wampanoag dishes...Three Sisters Succotash (Paquahog Clams with local squash, beans, corn) and Journey cakes.
The 2 generously sized journey cakes, cornmeal flatbread cooked on a griddle were served with oh-so-good thick sweet cranberry chutney and garnished with chopped scallions. The journey cakes were the size of the dinner plate, a meal in itself. Likewise, the Three Sisters Garden Succotash, a large shallow bowl filled with half a dozen Paquahog Clams with local squash, beans, corn, and chopped scallions. The clams are just one of the ways Chef Sherry adds protein to the dish.
These two staples of Native American northeast coast tribes required no refrigeration, were dried, and used in foods for months after harvest.
Journey Cakes, also known as Johnny Cakes, have their roots in Native American culture but recipes exist in latitudes from Newfoundland to southern states to the Caribbean and the Bahamas.
Confederate soldiers stuffed them into their pockets for sustenance on the march.
Johnny cakes were a staple for Rhode Islanders for centuries.
Here’s where the water gets deep. In the Ocean State, fist fights have broken out arguing about the provenance of johnny cakes.
Keep this in mind when you branch out to try Johnny Cakes.
Many thanks to Mishy Lesser who contributed facts to the story and corrected an earlier version.
Entering Branch Line during construction in Arsenal Yards
Branch Line, heated open patio on L and restaurant on R
Indigenous Food Menu
Rockey's Spritz - Aperol, Rockey's Liqueur, Cava, highly recommended by this writer.
Journey Cakes served as a pair, we each had one. Deliciously dense, moist, filling (and larger than appears in photo).
Three Sisters Garden Succotash: a large shallow bowl filled with half a dozen Paquahog Clams with local squash, beans, corn, and chopped scallions.
Branch Line, heated open patio on L and restaurant on R
Interior
Illuminated stack, remnant of original 1816 Watertown Arsenal Building reported to be one of the largest steel-frame structures in the United States, sized to accommodate both very large gun carriages and the equipment used to construct them. A venture to Branch Line serves as an appetizer to visitors interested in history of early American mechanized industry.
Photos by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.
Other resources
https://whatscookingamerica.net/history/johnnycakes.htm
https://watertowncitizens.org/working-groups/pigsgusset-initiative/
A global event, watched by millions lining the streets of London all the way to her final resting place in Scotland, and possibly billions watching on TV.
A personal bookend...On June 2, 1952, I ran home from school to watch her coronation.
In the days after September 8, 2022, I witnessed her funeral.
The Queen... there was only one, a North Star for the globe. No need to add the word Elizabeth, and now she's gone.
Queen Elizabeth II and the word dowdy would never appear in the same sentence… over the decades the wardrobe of vibrant pastels was remarkably lively in color, visually stating the Queen's outlook towards life. And let’s not forget those wide brimmed matching hats that she wore such easy grace. On any other, they may have seemed passé. With Elizaberh they were de rigeur.
And of course a reason for it. According to fashion expert Daisy McAndrew, she wanted to make sure that her people saw her, literally. Except for somber occasions, she succeeded magnificently. I literally smiled every time I saw a photo of her...and yes, she stood out from every other royal in the picture.
In her day job she was a workhorse. In fashion she was more like one of her beloved showhorses. Like them, she drew attention for her poise, discipline and demeanor that underscored her role as mother and then grandmother of the kingdom.
She knew it, she acted it, she delivered it with measured grace. On rare occasions when she fell short, she followed up with apologies.
We never knew about her in her inner life, emotional state. It was not necessary. It would’ve cluttered her single-minded sense of purpose, duty, and service to her country and every citizen within it.
On June 2, 1952, I ran home from school to watch her coronation. My parents had purchased a huge RCA mahogany radio, television, record player console. I sat on the floor, fascinated by that pomp and circumstance and sense of history of the occasion captures on a 12 inch black-and-white TV in the console. Like most citizens of the commonwealth, she is the only Queen I have known.
Joni Mitchell famously sang, “You don't know what you've got 'till it's gone."
Well, we knew what we had and it still stings that we have lost it.
https://inews.co.uk/news/entertainment/queens-lighter-moments-sense-humour-shine-through-olympics-paddington-1841850
https://www.elle.com/uk/life-and-culture/culture/g41130520/queen-best-quotes/
https://www.cnn.com/2012/06/05/world/europe/rainbow-queen-outfits/index.html
https://www.townandcountrymag.com/style/fashion-trends/g22550728/queen-elizabeth-headscarf-photos/
During her ordinary days in the country, she wore a simple headscarf, a touch that endeared her to her subjects. For all the photos I've seen, the Queen in a headscarf remains one of the most affecting.
Post script 1
"I was willing to wait 24-48 hours. This is a woman who was so much more. She was modest. She communicated with us at our level," he says as he waits to pass the Queen's casket in Whitehall.
Post script 2
I'll bet the Queen was wearing her headscarf when this hilarious event took place as she was walking the hills near her home in Scotland.
Post script 3
I always read stories to my 4th graders. In the first years of my 34 year career, I read "Mike Mulligan and The Steam Shovel," written by Virginia Lee Burton. One of the lines that always got a chuckle was Mike asking about the steamshovel operator - "How does he go to the bathroom?"
I wondered the same thing as I watched the miles long queue (line) waiting to pay respects to the Queen. The answer: https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2022/sep/13/toilets-and-first-aid-on-five-mile-queue-route-to-view-queens-coffin
Post script 4
There will be challenges to be managed. We shall find out whether King Charles III has the steady long view of his mother.
Cindy’s Country Café, 1324 West Main Road, Portsmouth, RI
August 26, 2022
Here we are at 1 PM the end of August, the roadside diner is filled with what every diner wants, a crowd of locals mixed with tourists and all of them hungry. A laid-back local establishment, everyone sitting at the counter knows the names of the servers and vice versa.
"We crack the eggs to make omelets and scrambled," our waitress Maureen says when my companion, lactose-intolerant, asks if milk is used to prepare eggs. "We don’t buy an egg mix at the store," in her opinion an affront to her customers and a qualifying bona fide for the cooks in the kitchen.
The all-American breakfast menu is just what we wanted, Maureen recognizes us when we return for breakfast the next day... we feel like 'regulars' now!
Tourist season or not, Cindy’s is a happening place. In post pandemic America, it will keep thriving day in day out. It survived.
That's saying something.
Photos by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.
Photos by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.
Photo courtesy of Carol Fondé
July 3, 2022
Porch sitting...
A routine...8:08 PM
A dog barks in the distance. Crows make their final caws before choosing their resting places high in the trees. A jet at about 20,000 feet is sounding taps for the day,
8:58 PM
Gathering dusk has eased into its armchair. A great stillness envelops the land. Ink blue sky turns cheek to pillow, dusk enveloping the cosmos as the earth makes its quotidien turn from the sun. Evening slides its arms into its sleeping robe, ready to preside until dawn.
Photos by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.
June 21, 2022
Scenes from a 2-week road trip to Rome, Tuscany and Bologna in May 2019
Tuscany is an orchestrated palette of everyday scenes that meld past and present. Revisiting photos from a 2019 road trip bring it back rich in memory. More to come.
June 24, 2019 on the road to Volterra, Tuscany
Ernie Pyle: The Great Chronicler of GIs in WWII
May 29, 2023 MEMORIAL DAY
A perfect day to salute the memory of Ernie Pyle, born in Dana, Ind., Aug. 3, 1900 - Died on the island of Shima in the Philippine Sea, April 18, 1945
Nominally the best reporter to capture the unglorified daily life of GIs in WW II, 1940-1945.
The term “embedded” had not even been invented when Pyle followed troops in combat, ate what they ate, ducked into foxholes with them when bullets and mortar shells landed. Pyle had the gift of memory so lucid that he wrote his columns when he could get his hands on his typewriter after exchanges with enemy troops and document how soldiers faced danger or looked forward the occasional letter from home.
He asked for no protection or special status and was respected by the men with whom he served. He died on April 18, 1945 when he popped up in a bunker to see the terrain and was killed immediately when struck in the head by a sniper’s bullet.
One of Pyle’s most simply eloquent stories was "The Death of Captain Waskow".
Ernie Pyle wrote of Captain Waskow: "In this war I have known a lot of officers who were loved and respected by the soldiers under them. But never have I crossed the trail of any man as beloved as Capt. Henry T. Waskow of Belton, Texas". It's a strange word to use, but I've never read a more endearing story about the humanity of men at war.
Like a sketch artist, Pyle's ability to capture detail that personifies his subject is fully charged in his story about the death of Henry T. Waskow.
Below: "Killing Is All That Matters." Pyle's observation describing how soldiers spend their time before being ordered into combat, an experience that will change them forever, December 1, 1941, is stunning in its contrasts.
https://erniepyle.iu.edu/wartime-columns/killing-is-all-that-matters.html
A collection of Pyle's columns about war and the men waging it ..so few words, every word in service to the moment.
https://erniepyle.iu.edu/wartime-columns/index.html
Long form journalism about what Ernie Pyle saw on the Normandy beach on D-Day was published so Americans could read about the carnage and pay respects to the dead by buying war bonds to pay for the war. If read only one link, read this one from the New York Times. Ernie would have loved it. (NOTE you will be able to read as a guest or logon if a subscriber)
https://archive.nytimes.com/www.nytimes.com/learning/general/onthisday/bday/0803.html
New York Times fully dimensional obituary for Ernie Pyle, April 19, 1945
Further reading
The Man Who Told America the Truth About D-Day
https://www.nytimes.com/2019/06/05/magazine/d-day-normandy-75th-ernie-pyle.html
Last and not least...Ernie Pyle up close and personal: https://erniepyle.iu.edu/wartime-columns/personal-items.html
Within a paragraph or two, the man has a knack for roping us in to a story whether in a war zone or his home town,
May 31, 2023 in Commentaries | Permalink | Comments (0)