PopWars

Most of the days on our upcoming walk, the Camino Portuguese, will be twenty miles long so we need to be ramping up. Today we decided to walk to Atlas Eats on Clinton Avenue. We really hustled on the way over because they close at two. There was a band playing in the park next to House of Guitars and the HOG had all kinds of equipment out on the sidewalk. Some sort of tent sale. I waved to Bruce who was standing in the doorway and we kept going.

At Atlas the workers were all talking about Woodstock. Brenda had just watched the movie and Gerry had just re-read “Back to the Garden” by Pete Fornatale. I told them I was there but I didn’t see much of the music. Brenda had just taken a batch of cookies with psychedelic swirls out of the oven. She is calling them “Lemon Sunshine.” I had my usual, the tofu and kimchee bowl, and Peggi had the toasted cheese with salad.

On way back “Cosmic Meditation,” a two piece with congas and guitar, was on the bandstand so we hung around for a bit. A small sign in front of the stage read, “Please Keep Out of the Rain Garden.” I went into the store and Armand’s WAYO radio show was coming over the speakers. I was surprised to see him in store and I said there’s a guy that sounds just like you on the air. He told me he records his weekly show in the studio at the HOG and just sends it to the station. If you haven’t heard him you have to check him out. He has a great radio presence.

At dinner many years ago I asked my father whether he thought, in general, things were better today than they were when he was growing up. He was a genuinely positive, glass more than half full, kind of guy, progressive and always open to new ideas and technology. His response started heading in an affirmative direction but then wandered into a time when the parish priest kept a watchful eye on the whole community, reigning in those who went astray.

My parents left the church decades before but I knew father was holding out hope, not so much for the institution but for the concept. I wonder what he would have thought of the headline in today’s paper. “Rochester Diocese Files Bankruptcy.”

My mother’s first job after high school, one that lasted until she became pregnant with me, was a clerical position with the Rochester Diocese office which at the time was located in the old CYO building on Chestnut Street where the Garth Fagan Dance Troupe rehearses. She told us how the priests constantly pursued the young girls they hired. When I was at Bishop Kearney HS it was common knowledge that the math and drama teacher was chasing girl students. I have at least two relatives who were molested by priests.

It is obviously not just a problem in the church. The Pentagon estimates 10,000 male and 10,000 female service members are sexually assaulted by fellow service members each year. But because the church has set up this archiac unmarried, male hierarchy as shepherds their crimes seem particularly egregious. Of course they compounded the infractions but covering the crimes up and moving the offenders to other parishes where they could continue to prey on innocents.

The model is broken. The whole ship deserves to go down. It belongs in a museum. The Attorney General needs to ensure that information related to clergy abuse and cover-ups are not able to be kept hidden by this bankruptcy process.”

We watched “TheGreat Hack” the other night and it put everything into perspective. It did take some of the fun out of watching the debates though. None of this really matters when you’re sitting on your couch in New York State. The state will go blue and the electoral college will cast its votes accordingly.

As the documentary dispassionately lays it out there are only a handful of states where the outcome is uncertain. And in those states a small number of counties where the outcome is uncertain. But in those counties there are the “persuadables,” enough people who are either on the fence or just don’t really care. Reaching them with gentle pressure can sway not the popular vote but the Electoral College balance.

So those are the towns where the candidates go. It is also where all the money goes. Along comes Cambridge Analytica who combined data mining (mostly from FaceBook), data brokerage, and data analysis with strategic communication. The Trump campaign bought a million dollars a day of their targeted FB ads and managed to tip the persudables. The best democracy money can buy.

But I still give most of the credit to the Trumpeter. We watched the Republican debates last time around, saw the Trump train coming as he stole the Republicans entire platform and trounced one after the other of their leading candidates. Jeb, Marco and Cruz clearly lacked the Celebratory Apprentice qualities.

My watch sometimes has me doing a mile before we’ve even left the house so I’m not vouching for its accuracy. I do know we were about halfway though with our walk when we turned around at the end of the pier and started heading south again.

Our walks are long distance but leisurely, like they will be in Portugal and Spain. We stopped at Kathy’s on the way out (she wasn’t at home) and we stopped a few times on the way back. Frametasitic was having an “Art Sale.” They had a hand made sign propped up against their green garbage toat so we stopped in. We met the owner, Joan, and she showed a self portrait her husband had done before he passed. She has been in business on Culver Road for over fifty years. We walked right by the bait store but stopped in the liquor store to see if they had any Portuguese Port. We were having friends over for dinner and thought that might be appropriate, The small shop only had Taylor Port, a New York State product and the shopkeeper told us they carried that one because it is popular because of a rap song.

Horseshoes adds another bit of milage before the day wraps up. I’ve been on somewhat of a winning streak and I think it has everything to do with concentration. Not my strong suit.

I was not aware of a separatist movement in New York State. I don’t like Brexit. I would rather Catalonia remain part of Spain. I don’t even like the America First thing so I’m not getting behind this. Besides, I thought the wealthy New Yorkers put a bigger share in the NYS coffers.

Once again I made this bone-headed mistake. I set the recording device (Zoom) up before our gig on Wednesday. The levels looked good. It was about fifteen minutes before we were to start so I put the things on pause. We were three songs into our set and I know exactly what Peggi was thinking. It was sounding especially good, like better that ever. Phil was playing a new guitar, a Nash, we hadn’t played together in three months. I t ws all brand new.

The first song sounded like a Can thing, a simple, driving, repetitive riff that that kept shifting ever so slightly. The second song had a fantastic amount of bass movement, an exploration. And the third was full of interesting melodic dialog between Peggi and Phil. It was so good Peggi thought she better check the Zoom to make sure it was recording. It was still on pause so that will stay in a dream state.

We booked our flight to Portugal and are beginning to think about the walk, another approach to Santiago de Compostela, this one from Porto. We took photos of the things we carried last year when we did the traditional route, el Camino Frances, and we’ll put the same items back in our packs. 

We’re starting to ramp up our local miles this month in preparation. We turned down Brad Street today, into that little neighborhood behind Parkside Pines, the oldest miniature golf course in the country. We took a photo of the street sign, “Brad Street,” and sent it to our friend, Brad, in Oakland. He called us and said he got the message but not the photo because he doesn’t use the cloud. He told us that our mutual friend’s sister had died so we called Steve and his conversation took us all the way home. Steve lives in Charleston and they were under a Mandatory Evacuation order. Of course, he isn’t going anywhere. He told he went down to the shore to check out the surf.

Finally shook that song “Sara.” I heard that days ago in Wegmans and woke up singing it. The thing should be banned. I was only able to free myself by replacing the tune with another, “Runnin’ Up That Hill,” which they were playing this morning at the health club. 

It was my first time there. I came on a guest pass with Peggi. We were here for the 8:30 yoga class. Patty is a good teacher but she moves through the poses too fast. You hardly have time to think about the pose you’re in before she is on to the next. The one hour class seemed longer than Jeffery’s two and half hour classes. The New Age music doesn’t help. It agitates me rather than chilling me out.

We walked around downtown yesterday. Bought coffee beans at Canaltown, shopped at Abundance and had lunch at Orange Glory. We sat out on the sidewalk and watched the new Eastman students check out their environs. We spent sometime at the library. Hadn’t been to the downtown branch since they moved the Art section back across the street.

I brought home a 1935 Gaston LaChaise catalog from a MoMA retrospective. They had to go into the stacks for that one. I am in love with his drawings. And I borrowed a copy of “Louise Bourgeois Drawings and Observations.” Peggi picked out two books on Portugal. We’re planning to walk a good part of that country..

The neighbors think there may be two sets of triplets wandering around. We haven’t seen both sets together but we see three young ones and their young mom every day. They may be different sets, we can’t tell. They eat everything. Our ferns, which they usually leave alone have been nibbled to the ground and our Vinca in the pots out back are just stumps.

We sometimes walk in the rain but we waited for it to stop before heading out. The sun was coming out and steam was rising from Pine Valley. We watched a groundhog for a few minutes, we saw a fox slink by and a pack of deer, and then some more and more after that. Not the first time we’ve noticed we see more animals out when it’s raining. In the park on a hillside, near the trail that goes through Tamarack Swamp, we saw five bucks, all with big racks. Three were at least ten pointers. I took some photos to send to our deer hunting neighbor. He has a permit to bow hunt on his property and he will drool over these.

To this day Summerville, on the east side of the Genesee, and Charlotte on the west side are distinctly different communities. Both developed before there was a bridge over the river. There’s historical markers detailing the port of Charlotte’s role in the War of 1812 and the Summerville side is pointed to as an early resort town, an escape from the city.

We took a walking tour of both, a leisurely stroll of the expensive boats in the Port of Rochester and then paused on the O’Rourke Bridge where we looked down on the bustling shipyards in Summerville. In the center of this photo you can see a man towing a kayak with his bicycle. We had lunch at Schooner’s, under an umbrella out on their deck and we watched boats drift past.

We bought some locally grown apricots, plums and corn at Herrama’s and stuck our head in the new Murph’s. There’s a stage in there that would be perfect for Margaret Explosion.