video « Kenny Smith | A remarkable thing happens …

video

What does it look like if you keep going further?

It’s a banner day of banners around here. I laid out the photos and the videos and put in the appropriate segment pieces up and everything here goes under one of our old familiar pieces of art.

I got in a 21-mile ride this evening. It was one of those, What if I went straight at that one intersection, instead of left or right? Where would I wind up? rides. The best kind of ride.

Going that particular direction, you’re bound my geography anyway. The river is out there somewhere. But after I passed that intersection, pedaled through some tree covered roads and dodged a few potholes, I got to a new stretch of road.

What is down there?

It’s a wonderful feeling. You’re about to see something new. And maybe it’ll be regular fields and houses. But they’ll be new houses. And you’ll be able to wonder who is on their way to that house? Who is the light on for?

Or maybe it’ll be something surprising, big or small. There was a small surprise near the very end of that road. A lovely suburban farmhouse style home on a great big lot. Next to it was an oversized produce store. It looked like a family operation, perhaps the same people ran it as lived next door. At least that’s the way the landscaping felt. It was large and looked great. Better than most of the houses, and there were a few nice spreads on that road.

Here are two more brief clips from last week’s concert. “Yoke” was the last track on 2011’s “Beauty Queen Sister,” and it became one of my favorites in their whole catalog almost right away. It feels like an Amy Ray song. And Lyris Hung’s violin, which sounds like a circus organ, an ethereal cacophony, a mental high wire act. All of it just sticks in the head, not an earworm, but something even more potent. And this part, right here …

Again, we were about a quarter of a mile away, so please excuse the visual quality.

This one was the second single from their 1997 record, the second track on that record, and I’m pretty sure everyone fell in love with it in about two seconds of the first time they played it. It takes less time for a crowd to voice their approval when they play it live, and so they play it live all the time.

It’s a historically important song. When my lovely bride and I were just dating, we were on a trip and playing this song. It’d been a good weekend after a long week and the sun was shining and the road was long and actually using an actual map — as one did back then — and singing along.

I don’t sing in front of people. We’d only been dating for a few months and there was that barrier dissolved. Music makes you vulnerable. And now here we are, all these years later.

We return once again to We Learn Wednesdays, wherein I am discovering the county’s historical markers via bike rides. This is, I believe, the 45th installment, and the 77th marker in the We Learn Wednesdays series. This one is a new marker for an old site. It’s not even in the marker database yet. I visited it only because I saw it out of the corner of my eye while riding to another site a few weeks ago.

The history of this cemetery is not well documented. An article appeared in the January 6, 1941 Standard and Jerseyman that indicated that Mrs. Lydia Fox Kelty had paper records in her possession which showed that her father, Robert Fox, was a direct descendant of James McGill, who donated one acre of his farm to Alloway Township, in which residents of the township were to be buried free of charge. Research of family records reveal that Robert Fox was the son of Charles H. Fox (1845-1929) and Lydia Megill (1846-1897). Lydia Megill was the daughter of John Megill (1805-1883) and Elizabeth Margaret Shaw (1810-1881). John Megill was the son of James Megill (1780-1842) and Margaret Mower (1788-1824).

Per the newspaper article, James McGill was the great-grandson of Rev. James MacGill who came to America from Scotland in 1725. Several of Rev. MacGill’s grandsons settled in Salem, and one, Patrick MacGill, a blacksmith, settled in Allowaystown. James McGill, who gave the ground, was Patrick’s son. James McGill, his family and a number of soldiers of the American Revolution are buried in this old cemetery. Research of the June 1793 tax records confirm that Patrick McGill lived in Alloway.

According to the article, this gift was made by James McGill in the year 1810-11, when he learned that the owners of the cemeteries in this vicinity refused to allow soldiers of the American Revolution to be buried without buying a lot. This so incensed Mr. McGill, whose father and uncle had served in the Revolution, that he gave the aforementioned ground to the citizens of Alloway Township. Unfortunately, the deed documenting this gift could not be found in the Salem County archives. Burial records are incomplete and many of the early gravestones are no longer legible, and documentation has not been found to identify what Revolutionary War soldiers are buried here.

Some of the earliest known burials include: Elizabeth Bee 1768-1832, James Bell 1756-1830, Rebecca Sweeten Bell 1767-1806, Jesse Earley 1786-1867, Peter H. Emel 1778-1823, Esther Emmel 1786-1847, Martha McCormack 1777-1806, John Mowers 1760-1822, Lydia Johnson Mowers 1765-1807, Anna Simms 1798-1855.

There are still McGills in that community, and dozens and dozens more in the broader area. The cemetery has 158 memorials, but among the unknown things are if any stones have disappeared in the last 200 years. And while the marker and the people that put it together have come up short on Revolutionary War veterans that are buried here, we know at least 10 Civil War veterans and two WWII veterans are at rest on McGill’s old land. One of those Civil War veterans served for all of two-and-a-half months. He died, in camp, of a fever.

The rest are normal people. And that’s rather the point, isn’t it? In the end, we’re all the same. Husbands, wives, their families. Old and much-too-young. There are carpenters and farmers and a firefighter who died on the job. There are 158 markers and at least that many stories that have been passed down and then gotten blurry and then forgotten. The sign says it is still an active cemetery. I believe the most recent burial was in 2003, of a widow who outlived her husband by 43 years. She was 25 when she got married, and 39 when she lost her husband. She lived half her life as a widow, and made it to see 83 or 84. I wonder what it was like for her to go by that place, or go to that place, to see her husband. It’s been 21 years since she joined him, and you wonder about those memories. As far as I can tell, there’s no one in that community with their family name.

Rebecca Sweeten Bell, one of those earliest burials, in contrast, has a huge list of descendants in the region. The man who is recorded as the oldest member of the cemetery was John Mowers. He died at 62, but in just six generations we can get to a descendant of his who is buried elsewhere, having died just last year. You wonder how far the memories reached back, even as you know why they sometimes don’t. For in the end, we’re all the same, but it’s still a bit uneven.

Next week’s marker feature is still a mystery to me. You’ll just have to come back to see what I’ve found. If you’ve missed any markers so far, you can find them all right here.

books / cycling / Indigo Girls / music / photo / Tuesday / video — Comments Off
27
Aug 24

Really got a lot in here

Do we have a lot for you in this post. Let’s jump right in! First, I just came in from watering the pothos plants, and I checked on the spider. She’s still out there doing her thing.

I’ve decided this is a she for reasons that don’t have any basis in anything, really. But he, or she, is one industrious spider. Every day that web disappears. Every night it returns. Almost in the same spot. The angle of it has shifted in the last few nights. Maybe this is better for catching things coming off the prize-winning plants back there.

Looked up how long spiders can live, and this is not a long-term location for my new friend. I’m going to wind up re-positioning this arachnid, if for no other reason than I’ll want this little section of sidewalk back. And also because this is too close to the house, and I don’t want it coming inside when the weather turns.

I bet she’ll have great success in the woods out back.

I got in a late evening bike ride. I started a little too late, which is funny because I’d just been mentally patting myself on the back for how well I time these rides. Usually, I’m back just as it gets dark.

It was still daylight when I started. Here’s the proof, this is about halfway through.

You know how those late summer evenings get, though. The sunset and the gloaming happen more quickly than you’ve lately been expecting. This photo was just four miles later.

And this was an accidental shot, but look at that blurry wrist!

The problem — if you want to think of it in those terms, and I don’t — is that soon after that last photo I made an impulsive decision to add on a few miles. Turned left to add a circuit, instead of heading straight in. That gave me almost six extra miles, which was nice. And about three miles into it, I had to pull the headlight out of my pocket and light the road in front of me.

I have a lot of light on the back of the bike for oncoming cars. But the other thing that’s nice is that I was on sleepy country roads. Over the course of the last six miles of today’s ride I was passed by five cars, and only two of them came by when it was truly dark.

Anyway, another delightful, slow, 22-mile ride is in the books.

You might recall we went to a rock ‘n’ roll show last Thursday. On Friday I wrote in this space about Melissa Etheridge. Today, and for the next few days, we’ll have a few short Indigo Girls clips.

This year they’re celebrating the 30th anniversary of Swamp Ophelia. And this is a deep cut, a tremendous song off a lush album. A song I don’t think I’ve heard live in decades, and apropos of the moment.

I’ve been in awe of that line about the summer since the 1990s. It’s not fair what Emily Saliers can do with a few lines of verse.

And here’s a 1997 classic to go alongside of that one.

That song — which went to number 15 on the US Adult chart, enjoyed a bit of air play on the radio and was in the last batch of videos I recall on MTV — was inspired by this documentary, which has become something of a classic on its own, while still remaining contemporary even as the sands shift around us.

That documentary itself is three decades old now. It’d be interesting to go back and see the modern version, just so we can marvel at what is and isn’t different.

I finished Walter Lord’s The Dawn’s Early Light. It is wonderful pop history, my first Lord book and I’m sure I’ll go find more of his writing later.

Militarily, his tactics are sparse, and written at a regimental level, but he’s not writing too much about the military action. It might be easy to get bogged down in that, or easy to get it wrong or be incomplete, all these years later, despite his excellent research. It’s a book about the time, rather than the conflict. He basically has it that the places the U.S. did poorly were down to bad organization and ineffective leadership. The places where we did better, Baltimore and New Orleans, were down to a key British army officer being killed and the Americans getting their act together.

And because it includes New Orleans, Andrew Jackson does become a minor character late in the book — a book which doesn’t sit on anyone for too long, come to think of it. Jackson has a few good lines in the text. This is, perhaps, the best one.

I’ve jumped ahead some 120 years in my next book. I’ve started reading about mid-20th century journalist and author, Richard Tregaskis. Updates on that text are something to which you can look forward. Also, more music tomorrow. And a swim! (Maybe … I’m trying to work up the nerve.)

cycling / Monday / photo / video — Comments Off
26
Aug 24

I did the pedaling thing, it was just like riding a bike

Since we didn’t do it last week, and shame on me, let us immediately get to the most popular weekly feature on the site. No one demands the weekly feature on the cats as much as the kitties. This is an important part of the schedule around here. We are quite regimented and, believe me, they know. They spend enough time hovering over computers; they can tell.

Here’s Phoebe, giving me a little judgement for the oversight.

She loves boxes, of course. It’s just baked in to cats. She has a west-facing afternoon window seat, and a while back we put one of the cat caves — it’s a small sleeping bag, basically — on it. She sleeps on that. Recently, we put the cat cave in a box and she is very pleased with this development. Almost as if she’s relieved we finally picked up her signals.

Here’s Poseidon, working on his aerodynamic position.

You can’t get more low drag than that cat. Gotta work on those ears, though.

So the cats, as you can see, are doing great, and thanks for asking.

I got out for a bike ride this evening. First one in almost two weeks, and just the second ride in three weeks. I blame my ear — which is very much improved by the way! — and the vagaries of life. Both have been getting in the way of the more important things, like this.

We have several standard routes. Two of them we have combined into a slightly longer route. Today I did that, but I did it in reverse. Really shook up the horses, who were busy frolicking around when I went by.

Later, I was buzzed by a CH-47 Chinook, probably on maneuvers from the base an hour or so away.

Of course, earlier in the day the house was buzzed by a C130 that belonged to the Egyptian air force. I wonder what it’s doing around these parts.

Around these parts began to look like this on the last bit of my ride.

I timed this just right. It got dark right as I got back in the neighborhood. Didn’t even have to turn on my headlight. It was a slow, quiet, peaceful 34 miles. Felt great!

I wonder where I’ll ride tomorrow.

adventures / Friday / memories / music / Philadelphia / photo / video — Comments Off
23
Aug 24

Still not over it

Last night, we went over the river.

We went for a poke bowl. This was when I learned something about poke bowls. The fish is raw — which is not my thing. Eat it fast and in big chunks, then.

And, next time, order the ramen bowl, like you initially planned to do.

Anyway, it was a lovely night for dining outside. We were the only people at the place, so we timed it right. And the food was good, except for, you know.

The purpose of that trip was to go see a rock ‘n’ roll show. I am, of course, going to get two posts out of this.

Opening the show was Melissa Etheridge. I bought her first albums as cassette tapes. They were loud and a little rowdy and a lot intense. Or, as she said last night … (Excuse the video quality, we were roughly a quarter of a mile away.)

That’s a good summation, the raw lyrics, the talented guitar work, it all worked very well.

For me, it was all about those first three albums — even though I was playing catch up. Someone played me a song as a teen and that 12-string guitar got my attention and her sound kept it. Superstardom was obviously on the way, the drama was there, and she was belting things out as fast as she could churn them out, and she’s been prolific for decades. Sixteen studio albums, five of them platinum, two golds. She’s supported them with 43 singles, including 11 that charted and six landing in the Top 40. She’s moved more than 25 million units, not counting whatever her digital sales are. But, again, for me, it was the first three records. Time and place. Lightning in a bottle. An earnestness that matched a feeling, whatever it was. If I had to narrow it down further, it just might be about this song. And, man, I still can’t believe this happened. It’ll take days to get over this. (Update — Still not over it.)

Amy and Emily doing melody on the song about two people running away together, or just running away? I do not know the extent to which a pop ballad can move a person, but there I was, thinking, No way 16 year-old me could have pictured any of this.

I suppose we could have left then and I would have felt as though I’d had my fill. How often can you say that just a handful of songs into a show? But you don’t do that, because there’s always the potential for magic in the air. They rolled out a piano and Etheridge put down her guitar and played a Joan Armatrading classic.

One day, someone is going to figure out that Melissa Etheridge has just been riffing on Bruce Springsteen, Billy Joel and Joan Armatrading her whole career. And why not? It works.

She’s 63 and still brings it. I’d never really had a desire to see her in concert, and I see now that was my loss. She put on a terrific show, and that was only the first half. We’ll get to the rest of the show next week.

Back at home, we have a new friend in the backyard. I just happened to catch this in the light as I went about the evening chores. Much better to see it than feel it.

It’ll be interesting to watch that web work evolve, I’m sure.

Meanwhile, over in the giant leaf district, we will find giant leaves.

That plant sits next to the water spigot, so it gets a bit of extra water whenever that’s on. I assume that’s why it’s taller than me now. Thankfully the brown-eyed susans that are growing next to it have no similar ambitions. But who knows what they’ll get up to this weekend.

And you? What are you up to this weekend? Make sure it is a good one!

memories / music / photo / Re-Listening / Tuesday / video — Comments Off
20
Aug 24

There’s a hint of live music below

Well, today was just beautiful. Impossibly so. Sunny, blue skies and temperatures settling into the 70s. There was no ambitious mercury in the thermometer. No overbearing sun. Just this …

… and the promise of another day or two of it afterward.

It was this beautiful. I couldn’t decide what to do with the day. Which was weird.

Finally, I settled on sitting outside and reading. It was a good choice.

It was such a good idea, I did it again, sitting outside this evening, listening to the symphonic crickets, flipping through pages of a book, asking myself why I don’t do this all of the time.

I should do this all of the time. Or at least more.

We return to the Re-Listening project. Regular readers know I’ve been listening to my old CDs in the car, and in the order of their acquisition. We’re in, let’s say it is 2006, listening to a 1998 record that I picked up at a library sale. It’s everyone’s 1990s friend, the Dave Matthews Band.

“Before These Crowded Streets” was their third album. Béla Fleck appears. Alanis Morissette is on it. And so is the virtuoso Tim Reynolds — this being just before he joined the band. It was another successful album, even as they were beginning to change some things up. The instrumentation gets more exotic, the time signature experiments are underway, and the themes got a bit more mature, a bit more worldly.

This was the record that pushed the Titanic soundtrack from atop the Billboard charts. Three singles became hits, the record went platinum four times in the United States.

Some of the best parts of this record are the interludes, usually outtakes, between the songs. And the biggest memory I have about this record is actually from a live show. They play the amphitheater in 1998, supporting this record and the version they did of “Don’t Drink the Water” was just about the most intense thing I could imagine seeing at a yuppie party. Here’s a version from that tour, about three weeks earlier than the show I saw. This is sedate in comparison to my recollection.

They’re still at it, of course. Ten studio albums and something like 17 live albums later. Touring machines, who even knows how many millions of concert tickets they’ve sold at this point. But I know some people who have purchased a lot of them. My god-sisters-in-law (just go with it) and their large entourage see them a lot, probably four or five different dates a year. And they invited us to one of them. It was my third or fifth time seeing them, and my first in 20-plus years.

I don’t think I even mentioned the concert here. We left the show early for some reason that was never explained. The group gathered and walked out and, I said Who doesn’t stay for the false finish, let alone the encore? And the answer was, the crowd of people we were with, for some reason.

Though I blame DMB as the sole culprit in the outlandish ticket prices we’ve seen explode in the last several decades,
they still create a happy crowd. And their tour continues right now. They’re playing the northwest, before heading back east in late September for some festivals, and then a few fall dates in Mexico.

We’ll go north, to Canada, when next we return to the Re-Listening project.

But what will we get into here tomorrow? Be s ure to stop by and find out!