The snow this time

Another snow is falling.

I have things to do, but I don't feel like doing them.

Watching the snow is peaceful, even with the roar of traffic going by; the sounds, not of quiet, but of tires on wet asphalt, punctuated by the whirrs of small motors, and the occasional groans of trucks.

I haven't been able to write much, and what I have been able to get out has been in orgasmic spurts on Facebook, commentary meant to attract the reader to news stories that seem important.

There are too many stories.
There is too much to try to understand.
There is too much to think about,
there is just too much.

One night last week, I watched 'Gojira', the 1954 Japanese movie that was altered for release in the United States, where it became known as 'Godzilla'. I dare say everyone knows the outline of the story: a few years after the atomic bomb, a monster arises from the seas, a monster that shows little use for logic, a monster bent on destruction.

Such plots call for a scientist who will quell the beast. In 'Gojira', that role was filled by Takashi Shimura, known to film buffs worldwide for his roles in the films of Akira Kurosawa. In his role as the scientist fighting Godzilla, every time the camera zoomed in for a close-up of his concerned face, all I could see was his face at the end of Kurosawa's 'Ikiru', in which he plays a bureaucrat struggling to find the meaning of life, his life, as he dies of cancer.

The picture I want to use as illustration shows the actor, in the snow, on a child's swing. It has a stock photo company's watermark on it. A lot of photos which used to be considered to be in the public domain are now claimed as the property of such companies. They want to be paid for their use, and the amount they want to be paid, even for a blog almost no one will read, is not cheap. I know the progression of this takeover for a fact, as for several years I have done occasional searches for particular photos, and watched as this has happened. In this case, a 65 year old photo from a Japanese movie is claimed to be under the ownership of a stock photo company. Much of the world seems to be becoming divvied up by owners who were not creators.

The snow outside of my window isn't sticking to the road yet, but is already piling up on the earth which had just started to suffer the appearance of crocus and the earliest signs of Spring.

About two weeks ago, I woke repeatedly throughout the night, which is not at all an unusual occurrence. That evening was different, however, in that every time I woke, I was in the same dream. I only remember the part at the end, from my stirring in the early morning. That's a metaphor, I suppose. In the dream, people were being rounded up. Color was draining out and everything was becoming, well, not black and white, but gray. Gradations of gray. Gray upon gray. People were being rounded up and sent off to somewhere. Younger men were being sent to the army, that much was known. Other people were being sent someplace unknown, to be unknown. I managed to sneak away from the roundup, and made my way down a long corridor which seemed an endless void. There were doors everywhere, lined up neatly, evenly, like some Levittown style apartment house. As I came close to my door, the corridor was flooded with people, people rounding up people, people trying to escape, there was a crush of people. I managed to open the door to my place, and snuck in, hopefully unobserved in the chaos. It was my space without a doubt. Except that my stuff had been largely removed. The furniture that was left had been covered by sheets and tarps, resembling one of those old closed up apartments opened years later with layer upon layer of dust covering everything. That was when I woke up.

The snow covers the world like layers of dust.

I feel stupid. I may have misread the situation, and the intentions of the Trump coterie. I just read several of the comments made by Nikki Haley, the new United States Ambassador to the United Nations. The situation in my country grows more surreal by the day, by the hour. I'd long assumed that the takeover by the reactionary right was an attempt to gut the government, to remove any help given to the working class, to move as much money and resources as possible to the rich, the oligarchs, the robber barons of our time. This seemed like the natural, and predictable, outcome of years of de-regulation, of lies and distortions by media representing the far right. A fight that had used the religious culture wars had paid off, but the cost was Donald Trump and the destruction of the Republican Party. I think I was wrong. I should have kept focus on the religious right. They don't just want to end abortion, or end gay rights (and gays). They don't just want their version of Sharia law, a world in which the husband will rule the home, with an obedient wife to wait on him (if she knows what's good for her - by now a working life in an often corporate culture should have taught women that they are expendable, their roles replaceable).

As I look at the proposed cuts to -this year's - budget, the toll in human misery can easily blind one to the toll on science, on the arts, on international aid, basically everything. I thought these people were simply ignorant of the interdependencies of the world, and had no understanding of the outcome of their actions.

But it's what they want. They are depending on it. Many of this crowd are fundamentalist Christians. The Bible is their word, their God, infallible, and Trump is His servant. They are not here to destroy the world so the United States can take over, so the moneyed class can acquire more than they already have. They are here to destroy the world. Period. They seek nothing less than to force Armageddon; they aren't looking for the end times - they consider that we are already in the end times. They are looking to hasten the end.

Mr. Trump isn't the intransigence and chicanery of the Republican Party come back to haunt them. He is their monster, rising out of the sea of their despair, come to destroy.

And me? I'm just another observer, a loser at life, swinging back and forth in the snow.

I (heart symbol) DVR

If ever there was any doubt that sometimes progress, in the form of technological innovation, can be good, one should look no further than the annoying and overpriced cable box that most of us have these days.

'Rabbit ears' antenna for set top use.

Once upon a time, tv signals were acquired for free via over the air broadcast. Well, nothing is ever really free, I suppose. Except the squandering of my charms, and even that had a cost - but that story is not the subject of this post. If there was a cost beyond the purchase of a television, it was the purchase of some form of antenna. Many people, living near the point of broadcast origin, could make due with nothing, or with rabbit ears. If you lived a little bit away from the source of the broadcasts, there might be a further cost with the purchase of an outdoor antenna, and once the evening network schedules began converting to color the follow up purchase of an antenna rotator to get a clear ghost free image.

Outdoor antenna with motor.

When cable came along, it was cheap, needed no set top box decoder, and carried only broadcast tv - because that's all there was. Broadcast then included the recently arrived UHF channels, which showed old movies and old tv shows. I still treasure the year I lived in my first 'on my own' apartment in Ocean City, NJ, where the cable brought Star Trek (then newly syndicated for re-runs) from a Philadelphia station at 6pm and from a New York City station at 7pm (a bit preferable, as the series from New York was shown in original broadcast order).

The Rotator control, which usually
sat by the 'easy chair'.

Eventually, HBO started up as a pay channel devoted to recent movies, shown uncut. Set top cable box decoders entered the scene. Other 'cable only' channels joined the fray. I suppose this plethora of entertainment could not have happened if the remote control hadn't come along about the same time as the antenna rotator. I was quite impressed by the first remote control we had, which was acquired with my Dad's purchase of our first color tv. Before that, I was the remote control. I didn't mind being told to jump up and change the channel - we didn't know anything different. (And I didn't mind being the remote in visits to my Grandmother or my Uncles. I supposed it was part of the deal of getting fed and being the kid.) Plus there was an extra added benefit of a bit of exercise.

One of the great inventions of all time, the remote control.

When home video recording began, I dove in. I loved recording programs (mostly old movies) that I would otherwise miss, and watching them later. I loved being able to fast forward through the commercials. And I really liked the idea of archiving the movies and programs I liked - at the time the Betamax and VHS cassettes weren't all that expensive.



Yes, I had a Betamax. Just like this.
Later models had better quality and stereo sound.
I got one of those, too.
And I still have it - but it needs a minor repair.

Fast forward to today. Cable now brings ever changing numbers of hundreds of 'stations', can provide what some advertising executive must laughingly refer to as 'high speed internet', Wi-Fi broadcasting that can't be turned off (although a passcode would be require to use it), and a 'land line' telephone line for those of us who prefer to be somewhat old-fashioned with that form of communication. (Today's everything to everybody media device telephones, and their cost, is worth a post of its own.)  Add in high definition and Digital Video Recording, and one's monthly bill for cable can easily reach a level which could inspire expense guilt in rich people (if they were to ever think about it).

The cable companies have, for many years now, given new shades of meaning to the concept of perfidy. They have created a world in which the cost of service isn't the cost of service. There is a rental fee for the set top box, a fee for high definition channels, a fee for this, a fee for that, various taxes, and service levels that boggle the imagination. I was lucky to get the classic movie channel as part of a promotional package - normally, I'd have to get all of the available sports channels to get the one channel in said group that is different (i.e. the classic movie channel). Hmmm, I'd best stop before the subject of this missive changes completely.

After years of ignoring requests to have my bill delivered electronically,
(known as 'going paperless'), I finally gave in and signed up.
It was truly wonderful not to have to deal with all that paper,
make decisions about how long to keep the bill after it was paid, etc.
The only problem? It took the cable company 9 months to stop sending a paper bill.

I should also note that a couple of years ago when I made peace with Comcast and got their service back, I was given their brand new cable box dvr - one of the first of that model given out. Within a year there was a replacement available that would do more - a lot more. Record up to 6 programs at once, and store many, many, many, many more movies and programs - among other improvements. I have yet to get it - I have too many movies and programs stored on my cable box that I haven't had a chance to watch. Oh, the problems of the modern world, eh?

The thing I enjoy the most these days is the DVR. At first I used it just to record programs I wanted to see but which weren't on at my preferred viewing times. Then came the discovery that the rewind function works for 'real time' tv. Let's say that yet another director let yet another actor mumble important lines of speech so badly that they could not be heard. (This problem is sometimes exacerbated by digital sound recording which can't seem to reproduce music and dialogue without it being either too quiet or too loud. Goldilocks would have never found 'just right', if you get my drift.) With DVR, one can simply hit rewind, raise the volume, and watch that part again. With DVR I can start recording a program like the Grammy awards, start watching the recording an hour or so into the program, fast forward through parts I have no desire to see, commercials, and so on and so forth, eventually catching up with the program's actual live broadcast before it is over. With DVR, 'Dancing With the Stars' can be reduced to a half hour's running time. And should a call of nature intrude while watching a broadcast, with DVR one can press the pause button, go outside and take care of business, and return to pick up where the interruption occurred.

The DVR also records in high definition (when you pay extra for the high definition in the first place) which includes the tv version of wide screen. Now there's a topic - wide screen tv uses a picture ratio of height to width that is not used by any movie company anywhere, ever. But these days we do away with much of what is possible and exist in the land of someone's definition of "good enough".

Now, I've been enjoying the possibilities of DVR for awhile. But last Saturday, my use of it turned into a triumph. The 4,727th Republican Party's Presidential-Candidate Debate started at 8pm, just as my radio show ended. I used the DVR to record it - in widescreen, color, high def, stereophonic sound, and watched it later. If the candidates had worn different costumes, it might have been mistaken for a World Wresting Federation brawl. The trick when watching is to realize that it is entertainment. Taking any of it seriously would result in a trip to the passport office just in case.

Speaking of my radio show (you must have known I'd get around to it) the first half of last Saturday's show took note of several birthdays, including a few of my favorite performers, like Jimmy Durante. The second half celebrated one of the composers of the Great American Song Book, Harold Arlen.

A young Harold Arlen, about the time he was composing revues for the Cotton Club,
and songs like, 'Stormy Weather', 'Get Happy', and 'Let's Fall in Love".

Arlen never promoted himself the way most of his contemporaries did. As a result, his contributions have been somewhat overlooked. It's odd, really - he composed some of the best pieces in the American Songbook, yet he rarely used the standard song form. He's often thought of as a composer of show music 'blues', yet he only composed a couple of songs in that form. If I'm still doing the show this time next year, I'll have to devote the entire 2 hours to him - there just isn't enough time to play most of his songs that should be played in such a program. Hopefully, I won't have another of my 'senior moments' - this time around I gave the wrong lyricist credit on one of my favorite Arlen songs, "Last Night When We Were Young". The wordsmith was Yip Harburg. As always, I hope any listeners enjoy the show.

Well, that was fun.

"It's been how long since I posted?", he thought to himself. (Take that rules of punctuation.) Uh, oh. He's feeling a little surly today. Ah, yes, it's 'talk about yourself in the third person day'. Actually, I've no idea if such a day exists, but why shouldn't it? After a quick Google search, it turns out it does exist - every Third of March. Should'da known. As I look up I see that it is snowing to beat the band, although why anyone, or for that matter the snow, wants to beat the band is beyond me. (ba-dum dumb)

You'll have to excuse me, I've been cooped up a bit too long. (Internal struggle - overcoming urge to add picture of Gary Cooper.) That freakin' cold I had since just before Thanksgiving to about Christmas either came back again, or I got another one. Only this time, I went down for the count. I'm not the kind of guy who can lay in bed when I'm not feeling well. Usually, I get up, clean myself, up, read, watch tv, listen to music, etc. and keep things fairly quiet. This time I ended up in bed for three and a half days. And it wasn't like I was just lyin' there staring at the uneven place on the textured plaster ceiling - nope, I slept. Last Saturday (Jan, 23rd) I didn't even do my radio show.

Speaking of my radio show, I've got a couple of them to catch up on posting here. So, let's get the first one out of the way right now with the show from Saturday January 9th, 2016. That program began with a tribute to Kitty Kallen, songbird with the bands of Jan Savitt, Jack Teagarden, Jimmy Dorsey, and Harry James. Ms. Kallen shuffled off the mortal coil on January the 7th. Then it was off to January 1945 as the Philco tuned in The Kraft Music Hall with Bing Crosby (and guests Spike Jones and His City Slickers!).



Between being constantly sick (all chest and up, thankfully), trying to keep the radio station going, trying to shop for food while in a muddle-daze, trying to find enough energy to cook a decent meal, you know - the usual suspects - I have to admit that I'm not getting a heck of a lot done. I have watched a couple of movies I had on the cable box DVR. The other night I watched the 1936 "Things to Come", with a script by H.G. Wells based on his own book. I last saw it in the early to mid 1970's. Made in England in 1936, the story starts with an all out world war in 1940, which more or less ends in the late 1960's with a new dark age and a plague; salvation arriving in the 1970's with the intervention of scientists and their "Wings Over the World" organization. By 2036, the populace begin to rebel against the more or less totalitarian technocracy that replaced the totalitarian society before it. It's the triumph of the luddites that gives rise to philosophical debate. That's a heck of a lot of oversimplification, but the subject is worth noting - let's face it, there just haven't been all that many movies that ruminate on the nature of war, good versus evil, the future of civilization, the nature of progress, and humankind's place in the universe. Besides, I find it wonderfully reassuring the cities of the future will be of art deco designs.

I have to make an admission here. It's been many years since I really gave myself anything much for Christmas. From my childhood years into my late 40's, I was an active film collector. I miss movies shown at a proper size. I like movies on tv well enough, but at the modern standard (?) of 32" or so they are still tv images. Certainly I watched many years of movies on a 19" screen growing up. But most movies are meant to be bigger than life, or at least bigger than a tv screen. So this past holiday, after scrimping and saving for quite awhile, I gave myself a cheap little video projector. It was one of those momentary "oh, hell, just do it" moments. And I'm very happy I did it. It's a tad awkward to use, as the method of projecting I prefer, down the length of my space, will give my own viewing a large and wonderful picture, but won't work very well for inviting guests over - due to the arraignment of the furniture they'll be far too close to the screen. My old motorized 5' screen is perfect for older movies with a more or less square shape (a ratio of 1.33:1). But it isn't big enough for the tv version of widescreen (16:9, which isn't the size of any widescreen process ever used). My 10 foot screen would be perfect for this, but at the moment it is in storage in a friend's barn. It will need a bit of sprucing up and possibly bleaching of the surface to make it useable, and even then that designation may be somewhat questionable. At the moment, I'm simply using a wall that is a light beige color, projected across the room so friends can sit and watch as well. Here's a pic of the widescreen image, shown in snowy day daylight (thin drapes closed, but still light enough to read a book or newspaper)(sorry about getting the fan blade in the picture). The image is roughly 6 feet long by 4 feet in height.

A scene from 'Jason and the Argonauts' in the tv version of widescreen.

Of course, this jump in technology will come with added costs. A standard DVD is of about the quality of older tv images. Over the last few years, I've grown quite accustomed to high def images. The projector isn't full high def (which would be 1080 pixels); that would have cost far more than I could afford. But it is the lower form of high def (720 pixels) and is pretty darn good, especially considering that it was priced quite a bit under $200.00. To be honest, I'm still surprised I spent that much money on myself. The problem is that movies recorded in 1080p high def via my cable box DVR are of excellent quality when projected - much better than DVD. Now I'm possessed of the idea that its time to go Blue Ray DVD, which is 1080p Hi Def. (I'm so old fashioned I prefer to own a copy of a favorite movie instead of paying per view.) That changeover is not likely to happen, and so far my DVDs look just fine. But the obsession has started.

Now that the images are of a decent size, I find I'm watching movies again. It's not like watching half heartedly on tv while I play solitaire on the computer, and etc. I mean fully engaged watching. This has happened just in time. The political commercials on the television are depressingly overwrought. My sanity needs to avoid them. The Republican party is out of control. All of their advertising (one can't forget these are infomericals selling a packaged product) is set in an alternate world America as they sell fear - where there are nasty terrorists among us plotting their daily bombings and destruction of our homes. Look - is that one? Report them now. An America where affordable healthcare has caused a majority of the populace to lose their jobs and live in dire poverty. An America in which the President of the United States has betrayed the country, and where those running for the nomination in the opposing party aren't fit for office. This isn't a distillation of what's behind their ideas - they say these things. Boldly. They talk about carpet bombing, they talk about rebuilding our military (which is still the largest and best trained in the world) and going after the terrorists of ISIS, capturing those they can, and carting them off to the Guantanamo Bay detention camp for the rest of time, where we -will- learn what they know. The implication of torture is pretty hard to miss. Oh, yeah, they are all for constant electronic monitoring of the populace. Give up that freedom in order to save it.

This political situation was going to be the focus of today's post, but I find it overwhelming to even think about today, as this is the first day I am really starting to feel better and I have a lot of other stuff to catch up on. The sad thing is these candidate 'contenders' don't even realize that they will not really be in control. They rail against Vladmir Putin, as though he has any real power left. When he was rattling the sabers, friends of mine were quite concerned that he was going to start a war. Russia, like China, is now part of the world economy. The interdependencies of trade and commerce have moved the actuality of power to the corporations just as predicted. At present, they can't afford war. There is too much to lose, and not enough to gain. When war comes in the future, it will be over economic spheres of influence, over who controls what products, what information, what data. Wars over who controls what geographic areas are passe, they are old school. That world is rapidly fading away.  It's part of what makes the immigration debate in this country so ridiculous. Forget building walls on our borders. Forget "figuring out who they are before we let them in" - that is already being done. If these people manage to get one of themselves elected, I've no doubt that the walls will go up. The real question is whether they are there to keep the infidels out, or the unwashed populace in.

There's a lot more that's been bouncing back and forth, but I need to get doing other things.

My radio show of Saturday January 16th took note of the birthdays of Sophie Tucker (the Last of the Red Hot Mamas), trumpeter and bandleader Billy Butterfield, drummer and bandleader Gene Krupa, and promoter, lyricist, and music publisher Irving Mills.



As always, I hope anyone who listens in enjoys the show(s).

Thoughts on Cleaning Up

The colored lights and garland around the porch door have been taken down, as has the Christmas tree. The place has been un-bedecked and de-festooned. The accoutrements of the holiday season have been packed up and stowed away once again.

In my family, the tree and all the trimmings came down on New Year's Day. Even though I was raised a Methodist ("Baptists who can read"), I long ago adopted Epiphany as the day for such activities. This change was not due, as some of my family no doubt supposed, to any laziness on my part. If the truth be told, I am especially find of Christmas trees and "twinkle bulbs". I like the concept of the Season of Light. I've always thought it a bit awkward to take all of the color and glitter down just as we get to the coldest, bleakest, darkest part of the year. But if it has to come down, and I suppose I appreciate it all the more because it is something of a limited engagement, then I suppose waiting out the 12th night makes some sense and is completely justified. The way I now see it, I keep the lights on (or the 'star' shining, if  you will) against the darkness. But in today's world, if no Weismans show up bearing gifts by 12th night, then the chances of it happening are about equal to Linus seeing the Great Pumpkin.

This year I was especially proud of myself, certain that I hadn't forgotten to pack some odd bit away. These last several years there has always been the extra bulbs, or the extra hangers, or the gift wrap - something - that gets overlooked. After everything was moved into the storage unit in the cellar, I did discover the useable top of a broken ornament, and yes, a holiday CD a friend made for my Yuletide amusement and delectation that hadn't made it into the boxes. Ah well, there is always next year.

The season here was unusually warm. On December 24th, the temperature was in the low 60's fahreneight. A few days later, the temperature dropped into the teens and single digits and we finally got a couple of inches of snow. It took a couple of weeks, but winter has finally arrived and announced itself. In case there was any doubt, the garden catalogues began to show up in my mailbox. Who was it who said, "Temptation is a seed catalogue in January"?

My telephone just rang. For the second time today the call was from the same alleged security company. Both calls were quite obviously the same male digital 'computer voice'. The first time I simply hung up. For this second call, I noted, "John (or whatever name was used), you sound like a recording." There was a pause. I continued, "I am listed on the National Do Not Call Registry. Please remove my name form your records and do not call again." At that point, the computer voice split into three or four voices - all of them were laughing uproariously.

For last Saturday's radio show, I decided to continue the methodology of the week before, and feature clips from the radio of various holiday seasons, this time focused on shows from New Year's Day and January the 2nd. As always, I hope listeners enjoy the show.



Oh, and Best Wishes to All.
Except the programmers of smart assed computer robo calls.
(Although I have to admit, the laughter thing was pretty funny.)

It's July

It was 20 years ago this past May that I gave up my life in the cities and moved to Brattleboro, Vermont. I'm not one of those people who doesn't expect or want things to change. Change is necessary. Things evolve. The human species may be devolving, but that is another story, or another blog.  (By which I don't mean a different blog - the thing I mean is a different blog entry. Sorry for the clarification, but following the most recent style of usage is, to my mind, unclear.  But then so is much of life these days.) It should not, however, be assumed that I approve of some of the changes that have occurred over these last two decades. Not that my approval is required, or, for that matter desired.

As I garden, I am somewhat familiar with the changing patterns of the weather. As I've aged, I find that I now have difficulties with high heat and humidity. Twenty years ago,  June was paradise. July began to get warm; the last two weeks would have temperatures in the 90 degree Fahreneight category (and up) accompanied by high humidity.  Some sanity would be restored in August. These last few years, it gets hot by early May, humid by early June, and stays uncomfortable until late September. Plants flower at different times now. There always was a bit of variance, but every year the differences have expanded and grown.

 I now find it difficult to work in the garden in direct sunlight as it gets towards noon. I'm fine in cloudy weather - well, as long as the temperature isn't up into the 90's, or the humidity so bad that I wonder if our species will evolve gills. (Like the old days?) I don't think my reactions are entirely due to changes brought on by the aging process. No, it's hotter in the sun. The more delicate flowers don't last as long as they once did. The intensity of the sun has increased. This morning, taking a photo or two of the garden resulted in becoming immediately drenched in perspiration to such extent that even items in my pockets were soaked through. If there were still handkerchiefs, I'd have had to wring mine out before using it to wipe my brow. And that was a little after 8am with a temperature in the upper 70's and with a cloud cover.

The thing of it is, even if the climate wasn't changing, mid to late July would be an uncomfortable
mess. There is something in this weather that is mean. Everyone gets cranky. And one can't blame them. And then there are those of us who don't have air-conditioning... so, during last night's radio program, I found that the tuner on the old Philco was acting up. Maybe it's a tube. Maybe it's the humidity. What can I say? It's July. 

Plymouth Notch and the 4th of July

Plymouth Notch was/is a tiny village a hour or so north of where I live in Vermont, It was/is one of the villages that make up the town of Plymouth. Once the center of a number of farms, the village had a General Store (which was also the Post Office), a church, a schoolhouse, and a cheese factory among its few buildings. John Coolidge used to own the General Store. His son Calvin was born (in the small cottage attached to the store) on the Fourth of July. After John Coolidge's wife passed, he married the local schoolmarm, and ran the cheese factory. Calvin became a layer, Governor of Massachusetts, and Vice-President of the United States. He was visiting his father at the start of August 1923 when then President Harding suddenly expired. As there was no telephone in Plymouth Notch, messengers had to be sent to tell the Vice President the news. It was early in the morning; John Coolidge had to wake his son, who dressed, said a prayer, and went downstairs where people were waiting. As the father was both a Justice of the Peace and a Notary, he was pressed into service to perform the ceremony swearing his son into office as the 30th President of the United States. After sending a telegram of condolence to Mrs. Harding, the President went back to bed. John Coolidge passed away a couple of years later. His housekeeper refused to change anything in the house. It, and the village, eventually became a historic site. It's all still there.


Plymouth Notch, VT

The General Store was bring repainted and was the scene of some confusion with a number of tourists milling around waiting for a tour to begin.  I never got a chance to take its picture.
As I don't have the time to dig out one of my old pictures of the place and scan it,
here's a friend's photo in front of the Store  - that's his 1948 Dodge in the center.  (Nice, huh?)

Upstairs, over the store, is the old meeting hall, site of dances and etc.
During the President's visit in 1924, it was the Summer White House.

At the back of the General Store is the building in which the Coolidge family lived when Calvin was born.

Next to the General Store is the village church.

The interior is all wood, milled locally. The flag denotes the Coolidge family pew.

 

Across the street from the church is the house John Coolidge purchased after he remarried.
The building just up the street is the cheese factory. (The one room schoolhouse is next to it.)



Inside the Coolidge home, the workroom contained a ball of string.
My family had one in the kitchen when I was young.

Aside from facilities in the attached barn, just inside the house was a small 'two seater'.
The reading material, emergency paper supply, are seed catalogues.
Sorry about the quality of the photo - everything is glassed in for preservation.

The dining room - everything is original and as it was.
The second Mrs. Coolidge (the President's Step-Mother) passed on the fainting couch by the windows.

A detail of the sitting room. On the table is the bible used to swear in the President.
Being a Progressive Republican Vermonter, Mr. Coolidge refused to swear on oath on the bible
and simply held his hand over it.

The village's two old barns (one rebuilt and added since I had last visited over 15 years ago) contain farm tools, carriages and the like - donated by local farmers. Everything there was used in the general vicinity.

Calvin Coolidge is, to this day, the only President of the United States born on the Fourth of July - the date on which the Colonies declared their Independence from Great Britain. My third visit to the site (over 20 years time) was this past Thursday. The first time I was there, it took me a good 20 minutes to figure out why things felt different walking through the village. Then I suddenly realized that there were no utility poles to be seen. There have been changes since my last visit, which include electric lights illuminating exhibits in the barns, a videotape in the Summer White House, etc. It's a shame in a way, as visiting used to be such a step back in time.

My radio show this week took note of some of the other people born on the Fourth of July - lyricist Irving Caesar, songwriter Stephen Foster, songwriter/bandleader John Phillip Sousa, and Louis Armstrong. (Throughout his life, Armstrong thought he was born on the Fourth of July. Later research turned up his baptismal certificate which showed his birthdate as August 4th.) The show also notes George M. Cohan, who was born on July 3rd. As always, I hope any listeners enjoy the show.

15 years! Really? Eyah, I counted 'em.

It's difficult to realize that it has been 15 years. The entirety of it is a heck of a story and begins about 17 years ago, or maybe even 20 years ago , or it could go back as far as 1970 or so, but all that is not relevant to this post. The basic situation is that on Saturday March the 4th, 2000, I was to start my own show on radio free brattleboro. March the 1st was the birthday of Glenn Miller. March the 2nd was the birthday of composer Kurt Weil. I was set to celebrate them both. The rfb studio had just relocated to a shed attached to the basement of a building on Main Street. The entrance required a walk down an alley, along the railroad tracks next to the Connecticut River, and up a specially built lengthy flight of wooden stairs.

The stairs - from a landing half way up the hill.

When I arrived that day, the woman with the show before mine wasn't there. The door was locked. I had no keys. A comedy of errors ensued for over an hour as I attempted to get access (I managed to track down someone who gave me the wrong key - twice!) and finally gave up the attempt. My show, still nameless at the time, debuted on March 11th.

The old radio free brattleboro studio. Computers hadn't yet entered into the studio mix,
there was no streaming internet, etc. Heck the internet was only a couple of years old.
Home made CD's had just become possible. Dave Longsmith suggested raising money
by selling rejected home burns as coasters we would call 'recycled radio'.
I hollered "That's It".  And that's how my show got its name.



Seven years later, radio free brattleboro had its equipment seized by the FCC while we were broadcasting under the protection of a Federal judge. (Like I said, it's a heck of a story.) In the meantime, the FCC had been embarrassed into giving out low power licenses again, which they hadn't done for over 20 years. One went to a new community radio station set up in Brattleboro, WVEW-lp. Before long I was back in my comfy Saturday night timeslot. Five years later there was a fire in the building which housed our studio, transmitter, and antenna. The station was wiped out. When that happens, the FCC gives license holders one year to get back on the air. The station had been managed by its staff. When the work of returning to the air started, a dissident group of the membership took over the station. Things got nasty, but the folks who started the station eventually regained control; we made it back on the air with one week to spare.

 

While it might have been better to note my show's anniversary (15 years? Really?) next Saturday, March 7th, I have other intentions for that program. March the 8th is International Women's Day, so the night before is an excellent time to produce another version of a show I've done several times over the years dedicated to the women who led swing bands. 

 

Blogger is giving me all kinds of problems, changing the colors of text, refusing to cooperate, and generally behaving like a spoiled child intent on having its way. It must have been associating with Facebook. So I'll just post a few newspaper clippings from the first week or so of March 2000, then post last night's show, which finally celebrated the birthdays of Glenn Miller and Kurt Weil.



 



 

 

This was another in the series of shows where I couldn't seem to focus on what I was doing and talk at the same time. Nevertheless, I think it turned out to be an enjoyable show. I hope anyone who listens thinks so too.