Tag: Weather, Holidays and Seasons

John Peel Day

I like this idea. To celebrate the memory of the massively influential BBC radio host John Peel, who died last year, people are encouraged to put on their own gig of some sort:

The very first John Peel Day will take place on Thursday October 13th. The day will be a celebration of John’s life and massive contribution to music and broadcasting with as many venues as possible staging gigs across the UK under the banner of Peel Day.

Maybe Gordon and the Salty Hams will reform for John Peel Day. That and a drum and cymbal parade around the living room surely are in order.

Update: On a somewhat unrelated note, if you have broadband, check out Hayseed Dixie on BBC Player. That is why the internet was created.

French Festival 2005

We missed the French Festival across the river at Cape Vincent this year. We were there last year and had a great time. To make up for my absence, North Country Public Radio has some great photos, a five and a half minute radio essay on it as well as other information on their regional news page this morning. Ten thousand visitors to a village of a couple hundred all to see Napoleon ride a horse down Main Street.

Father’s Day

Am one and got one.

My old man was blitzed as a child, immigrated in his mid-20s, raised a family while making a career change to the ministry, dragged us around Altantic Canada homes and travelling around North America and the UK growing up including Stonehenge (as illustrated), tag-teamed with Mom on we wee three to read like madmen (the one lifeskill which brings success) as his socialist politician mom taught him when she bought the first Penguins as they came out monthly, watched me and pushed me to play basketball, football, soccer and even, oddly, one season of baseball in grade four – they throw that thing right at your head!. I still clearly recall in undergrad soccer at “The Pit” in the north end of Halifax hitting the cross-bar with a massive crack at goal from way beyond where I should have thought possible, turning around and seeing him on the ridge with his face in his hands over the “almost, almost” of it. In recent years, I have been impressed with my father as something of a medical marvel, having survived a number of thingies that are the sorts of thingies that scare the hell out of you. And did it with a certain plucky easy style that you really would think would come with being a man of the cloth but maybe you never thought would play out when the rubber hits the road…for the third time. From my Dad I can quickly see I have got a love of sport – both playing and watching – a healthy distaste for a certain sort of political theory of the few as well as reliance on humour in formal situations – not to mention the importance of a wee bickie with your tea. Critical things.

Rolling all that up, he being 1500 km east shivering at the cottage in frosty PEI as he reported on the phone last night, I am making my own demands clear amongst my own here and we are off on an international junket, going to see the 4-1 but oddly yellow Watertown Wizards take on the Saratoga Phillies, who actually play on the Doubleday field at Cooperstown which is kind of cool. After that we are in search of frozen custard and I have a couple of leads already. Dinner perhaps at Sackets Harbour Brewing or maybe back to Attilo’s pizza in Clayton. Back across the border with a stack of Sunday papers and maybe a growler. It is a tough old life.

5-5-5

Yesterday was “Star Wars Day” in the elementary school playgrounds apparently – kids falling over each other to say “May the fourth be with you” in a Daffy Duck sort of way. Today is one of the 12 days of the century which have the same number in the day, month and year columns.

Be prepared for the end of the world coming on next yea’s version, June 6th.

Summer

Summer is a comin’ like…like…like a very fast and unexpected thing. We have rejigged our big trip staying farther north, hitting Lake George in New York to see if what they say about Craig is true, South Portland and the beaches, Rhode Island for beaches and the Pawsox, eastern Connecticut for Bill’s seafood. The theme appears to be mini-putt, beach, ice-cream, repeat. Beyond the big trip there is soccer, camping, BBQ skill refinement, ice cream, mini-putt and beaches.

What would you do at this time of year if there was no winter to get through, no reason to find the impending carnival of sweaty late sunny evenings a brief gift of the gods?

Easter Monday

In the UK today is called a bank holiday but here the banks were even open. Is there a country more keep to drop holidays than Canada? It is on all the evidence the best day to buy meat as the entire A&P meat section was on about 50% off and, so, it has been a day or roasting and braising and stockmaking and freezing amongst a bout of keen spring cleaning.

The day has not been without personal growth. This morning, on NPR, there was a discussion of the short lived genre of boogaloo. I don’t think I knew there was in fact a genre as I only really knew the word from “Back off Boogaloo” by Ringo Starr on one of those really poor early 70s albums he foisted on unsuspecting tweens to mid-teens. Apparently it was a word used by pal to Ringo, Marc Bolan of T-Rex – the greatest band no one much listens to anymore. Not even me as I only have lps and the turntable is in storage. But this is not about Ringo but the recent release of The Rough Guide to Boogaloo:

Boogaloo originated in New York’s inner-cities in the late 1960s and spawned an array of excellent bands and vocalists, but it has never received much broad recognition. The Rough Guide to Boogaloo aims to change that, nicely showcasing the trademark blend of Cuban salsa rhythms and American soul.

I have and enjoyed the introduction to the first wave provided by The Rough Guide to Ska and have just bought but not listened to The Rough Guide to Dub. This series serves as a preliminary step to deeper obsessions which often require hunting out Trojan Records compilations.