I found ten versions of “Blue Moon” songs in our digital library and played them all in succession while Duane was here on the eve of such a celestial celebration. Peggy Lee, Duke Ellington, Coleman Hawkins, Charlie Parker and Sun Ra all did “Blue Moon” but Bob Dylan’s from “Self Portrait” is my favorite.
We had dinner at Vic’s Place and then walked out on the pier. Duane has a new camera so we both took photos in all sorts of low light and challenging situations and then compared numbers, F-stops, shutter speeds and ISOs. We parked the car in the parking lot of the old Vic & Irv’s, god rest their souls, and sat on the beach in front of Marge’s to watch the moon rise over Alayna’s house. On the way out I heard the owner, Fran Beth, say her husband would have been 72 last night.
Duane wanted to see Olga while he was in town and she suggested meeting at Jeffery’s yoga class at the Rochester Yacht Club. This would be his first yoga class. The two of them set up in the shade in front of Peggi and me this morning. The sky was intensely blue until white puffy clouds drifted by. I stopped several times to take a quick photo. Jeffery demonstrated something that looked like a can opener but he was calling it a cannonball. I corrected the yoga teacher, gently pointing out that a cannonball would be both legs. There was a time when I got so good at can openers off the diving board of Tim Schapp’s pool that I was not allowed to do them because I emptied too much water from the pool. I would lean back at exactly the right moment and it would sound like thunder as I hit the water. I could never do a proper cannonball. Wrong body type.
After yoga class, we headed over to Atlas Eats. I had Kimchi pancakes and about six cups of coffee. Duane told us a story about smoking a joint with some friends at a park in the Thousand Islands and some guy came up to them and said, “That smells pretty good, can I have a hit?” They hung out for a bit and the guy left. He turned out to Abbie Hoffman who was in hiding up there.
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