Most pumpkins have gone bad by now, but as my neighbor's porch shows the small ones seem to have longer lives.
As another of my neighbors has discovered, when pumpkins turn rotten they can become depraved to the point of eating their own young.
This sign suggests that the children where I live are slow, but at least they have the admirable desire to smash the state.
Posters on the railroad trestle downtown.
I'm now so completely out of the booze scene that I didn't even know that Pop's Packy had closed!
Just the thought of a Hamp without Pops is quite disorienting.
Oh wait, it only moved next door, into a newer, nicer building.
Pop's gone respectable? Combined with the loss of Augie's flophouse across the street, I guess the ol' Hamp of yesteryear really is gone. Does anyone remember when that location was a drug store?
These are the only signs I've seen so far on anyone's lawn in Northampton promoting a candidate for the special senate election to replace Ted Kennedy.
When Kennedy died everyone predicted there would be a titanic battle for his seat as the biggest names in Massachusetts politics from both parties entered the fray. Instead the race has been a screaming bore, with four cookie-cutter Democrats running while all the GOP has put forward is an unknown state senator and a scandal prone has-been. No wonder the public seems disinterested, with the probable outcome being that we'll end up with the same bad Democrat representation we always got from Teddy, only now we'll get it from someone without Kennedy's seniority or charisma.
Holiday Giving
Radio crazies Bax and O'Brien are doing a charity drive in Springfield, as humorously reported in this video.
Dan Yorke and I once helped in the 1990's with one of their charity events, but I don't remember if it was the same cause. In fact, come to think of it, technically it really wasn't even the same show as it was called Jonathan and O'Brien in those days. Wonder what became of Jonathan?
Back to the Future
Amherst College has a new logo (above) which is actually a return to the old logo that was in use before 1961. The latin lingo means,“Let them enlighten the lands." New or old, the logo sure is better looking than the official college tie, which only an alumnus could love.
To read all about the history of the Amherst College logo click here.
Speaking of Amherst College, in the Robert Frost Library is this stuffed owl that was donated to the school in 1862.
It was a different Pioneer Valley that owl flew over 147 years ago.
Today's Video
Someone asked me why I rarely put up anything by the Springfield band Staind. Okay, even though I find their music mostly a downer, here's a cover of one of their songs by Jay Brannan.
For former UMass students of a certain age the comics of Steve LeFler (above) have a special nostalgia. His work dominated the UMass Collegian in the late Seventies and early 80's, and he's still in the comics business to this day. He also has a blog, and I recently stumbled upon this entry about his UMass days:
Carl Mayfield 1981
Getting my art degree (with a focus on
painting) was a bit of a dodge, a pleasant enough way to be “going to
college” while I pursued my real education, which was comprised of
writing & drawing a daily comic strip for the school newspaper. The Massachusetts Daily Collegian
offered four or five much coveted slots to students to work out their
chops on the comics page. By my second semester, I talked my way into
grabbing a spot there, and held it for the next four years until
graduating.
Luckily, my strip Aluminum Foil
captured the zeitgeist of the moment, and the strip was widely
appreciated at the University of Massachusetts, Amherst, a diploma
factory of gargantuan proportions, that once earned the dubious
distinction of being Playboy magazine's party school of the year. Aluminum Foil
chronicled the adventures of Gerald (a stoner foilhead/everyman) and
his sidekick Benb (a dapper, overweight, mute smiling scarecrow).
The
highlight of the UMass social calendar was of course Halloween. At
UMass in the late Seventies, Halloween was nothing less than a weekend
long, full on psychedelic pagan bacchanal. Hordes of tripping, costumed
students would converge on the concourse of the campus center building
for a convivial mass celebration of All Hallows Eve. It was something to
behold, especially for me, as many of the party goers would be dressed
as Benb & Gerald (Gerald in particular being the easy costume—just
fashion a helmet of Aluminum Foil, poke some eye holes in it, roll a fat
doobie for a prop, and there you are!).
Which
brings us back to January 1980. There I am, ego inflated beyond all
reasonable proportion after four years of basking in the glow of the
successful run of comics, with barely enough money for a six pack of
beer. What to do? I tried a standard forty hour job for all of six
weeks, working on the loading dock of a down market department store for
minimum wage. This was depressing (in the dead of a freezing ass cold
western Massachusetts winter, no less), and the final straw came when
the boss instructed me to drown a cute little mole that had invaded the
warm store during one particularly nasty freeze. Not willing to whack a
mole for minimum wage, I released the little guy into the frozen tundra
and resigned.
Having
some experience with screen printing T Shirts, I started freelancing
wholesale shirt jobs (always a popular product when it's twenty degrees
outside!). This took care of keeping food in my belly and a roof
overhead, but how to sweep the world of cartooning with my (obviously)
unparalleled genius?!
In
retrospect, it's clear to me now that I came pre-installed with the
“publishing gene”. This is a genetic quirk whereby an artist or writer
can (by some mysterious alchemy) justify shoveling pots and pots of
money into the never ending project of publishing their precious works.
To say I was burning up to get started in the field is an
understatement. It was pretty much all I could think about.
I'd
managed to save $150.00 from my heroic efforts on the loading dock.
Armed with the idea of collecting the best of my college strips into a
one hundred page volume, I dropped by a local printer to get an estimate
on having books produced. Turns out they wanted nine hundred bucks to
do a run of five hundred, a bit beyond my means. Just about then, an
important adjunct to the publisher gene kicked in, and I became a
financier as well.
Turns out one of
my housemates, Betsy Hilborn, an amiable, fun loving & somewhat
cynical nursing student, has been listening to me chatter about my plans
and offered to pony up most of the funds for my initial publishing
effort. So with $600.00 from Betsy, my paltry $150.00 is savings and
another $150.00 coaxed out of my dubious parents, I threw my hat into
the ring as a comics publisher.
I had penned some four hundred plus daily strips during the run of Aluminum Foil.
I figured I'd publish them over two volumes, with the first one hundred
page volume featuring two strips per page. I hauled my strips down to
the print shop, and within a couple weeks I had five hundred copies of Benb & Gerald in hand!
Although
I was a completely naive amateur, I left no stone unturned over the
next several weeks in an effort to sell the books. As I'd promised Betsy
that I would pay her back within a couple months, I sprung into action
like a man sitting on a hot stove—I was determined to be as good as my
word.
The
first step was to stage a publishing party. It was my good fortune to
be friends with Carl Mayfield, lead guitarist and vocalist for Martian
Highway, a local party band with a strong following. Carl was an
accomplished illustrator as well, and we jammed on an 11” x 17” poster
for a Martian Highway gig that would double as a costume ball /
publishing party.
Given
the tenor of the times, Carl hit on the clever idea that we would print
the poster in silver ink on black paper. Why? To make it look like a
giant hit of blotter acid, of course! Sitting down with our drawing gear
and a stack of late Seventies punk rock and Grateful Dead records (go
figure), we created a gorgeous drawing featuring Benb & Gerald
driving a late model Ford with an electric, glowing Martian in the back
seat. Carl added the requisite typography, and we scribbled a manic
cast of characters over every square inch of the art, including the
first image of my future lead character, Dog Boy (although I did not
name him in this drawing, the fully formed image was there).
One
wag suggested that we were quite bold to produce a silver on black
poster that was “virtually unreadable”; I had no problem reading the
poster myself! We papered the UMass campus and local towns with the
poster. It stood out like a beacon to those in the know, and the party
was well attended by costumed, tripping revelers.
Green
kid that I was, I felt disappointment with selling 33 books at the
party, and another 40 or so from my pre-publication advertising and
marketing. In retrospect, I recognize that it was a pretty good first
day as a small time publisher, making a nice dent in the money I owed
Betsy. The following month saw me hawking books in front of the UMass
campus center building dressed as Gerald, replete with Aluminum Foil
mask (but only once—too embarrassing!), making a critical connection
with the book buyer at the campus bookstore, and placing books in every
local book & record shop that would take a few.
Steve is still artistically active, as you can see here.
Thanks to Jay Brannan for alerting me to the following video, and who by the way looks quite serious in his new glasses, which he got photographed wearing despite trying to grab the camera.
If you are unmoved by this video, then you are not human.
This morning I had to go and have a whole range of psychological tests to try to determine why I have such an addictive personality. They ask me why I do drugs and I tell them that drugs are fun and they feel good, but I can tell from the expression on their faces that this is the wrong answer.
Anyway, the tests were held at a medical facility in Florence, which is a section of Northampton that I would compare to Indian Orchard in Springfield. The Orchard likes to think of itself as independent, but that independence exists only in attitude, since they pay taxes to Springfield's City Hall and vote in Springfield elections. In the same way Florence has an independent attitude, no matter what the maps and the lawbooks say. My grandmother's first name was Florence.
Getting to Florence is easy, you just go past Smith College and continue straight ahead until the road leads you directly there. Going past Smith I saw this banner advertising an upcoming dance.
Some Smithies are Obamadroids.
There are lots of beautiful houses along the way, colorfully painted, such as this passionately purple one.
Or electric yellow.
Not all are well kept up. If they ever revive The Adams Family TV show, this house would make a good setting.
I've always been intrigued by this majestic structure which stands on the corner of Harrison Avenue, a street I once lived on.
What I find so intriguing is this electric candle that is burning in this window. It's been there for years and burns night and day. Of course leaving a burning candle in a window is the universal symbol of waiting for the return of a loved one.
For whom is this candle burning, and why? Maybe it's just the romantic in me, but I feel there must be a fascinating story behind this mystery.
Along one stretch are these old pines, about a half dozen of them. These large sentinels have watched this road to Florence for over a century.
This garage has a straw-witch guarding the snow plow.
Along such a rural stretch, Cooley-Dickinson Hospital seems jarringly modern.
Like most New England towns, Northampton has lost a lot of old factories to the South and overseas. Here an old silk mill has been transformed into a medical facility.
Along the road I passed this odd little European car. I would hate to get into an accident in one, the car would get crushed like an eggshell. Does anyone know anything about this make of car?
This is the Evolution Cafe, which is run by the same people who used to run Fire and Water Cafe, the late, lamented bohemian poetry and art center in downtown Hamp. Tomorrow I have to go for some more psych tests, and perhaps I'll stop in and check it out.
Here's the latest update on my brother from my sister in law: Hello everyone,
We were scheduled to go to Stanford for a checkup last week. I worked Thursday and we left for Palo Alto in the early evening. There were storms predicted for the whole weekend and yes, indeed, we did end up traveling in a snowstorm on Donner Pass and were required to put chains on our tires to get over the mountain. But all is well that ends well and we made it -- thanks to many of you who were praying for our well being.
We saw Dr. Miklos on Friday and he was pleased with John's progress. His blood work looked great and we were encouraged when the doc said, "You're doing so well, I don't think I need to see you every week -- or even every other week. How about I will see you one more time in late February and then we will send you back to Dr. Singh in Reno?" Hallelujah! Praise the Lord!
He is taking an anti-fungal, an anti-viral, and an antibiotic so guess there's no bug safe around him now! As soon as he can build up his strength and get over the fatigue, he will get his life back. That will probably be in a couple months. Cancer survivors tell us your life will always be "before cancer" and "after cancer" from now on. Believe me, we are ready for "after cancer". It feels like we have been in "during cancer" for a very long time.
Connie
All their suffering will only make the good times that much better. Despite the cold and snow, work is proceeding behind Northampton's Pulaski Park. It is controversial because some say if something gets built there it will ruin the park's ambiance.
There are all kinds of warning signs, with a prankster trying to alter this sign in a humorous way by adding words and trying to scratch out "hat."
"Caution: People Get Really Hard in this Area." If that were true, I might follow this project more carefully.
This morning I was trying to kill some time waiting for the coffee shops to open in the UMass Campus Center, so I took a little stroll around the Southwest dorm area. Of course there really is no such thing as "killing time" when you have a camera with you and a blog hungry for material.
There are a lot of dorm neighborhoods at UMass, but everyone knows Southwest, if only because it is so visible with its towering skyscrapers set amidst the gently rolling farmland. Each of the towers is named in honor of a person from Massachusetts. The one honoring someone from our region is this monstrosity known as the Calvin Coolidge Tower.
Calvin Coolidge was the former Mayor of Northampton and the only person from Western Massachusetts ever elected to the Presidency of the United States.
Students who live in the towers are always sticking stuff on their windows. In this case, on the right, someone pays homage to our beloved baseball team. On the left, someone mixes holiday mirth with whoredom.
Perhaps this is the window of a foreign exchange student, or maybe just a rabid fan of British rock.
This is the famous Southwest Courtyard.
What makes it famous is this is where all the rioting occurs over such gravely important matters as the performance of local sports teams. The Southwest residents have rioted when their teams have lost, but also rioted when they have won. Here's a sampling of the madness.
This is the Hampden Convenience Store located right on the courtyard. My sister Donna used to be the manager there, but now works elsewhere on campus.
Southwest was built in the 1960's, and not just on farmland, a residential neighborhood was taken by eminent domain and bulldozed out of existence. A few buildings from the neighborhood were saved, including the oldest house in Amherst, which is now used as an elegant setting for elite gatherings of UMass poohbahs.
Also saved as UMass expanded were some of the oldest trees, many of which have little signs identifying them as being more than 300 years old. These elderly sentinels are Amherst's oldest living residents, and the last living witnesses to Amherst as it was before UMass. This gigantic and ancient willow stands along University Drive. It remembers the days before the towers.
This is the Southwest basketball court, but it is usually too cold and snowy during the school year for it to get much use except in the summer, when the town kids take it over.
On the fence of the basketball court is this makeshift memorial to a UMass student who died.
With nearly 25,000 students, UMass is like a small city, and if so, then Southwest is its urban core. Like all cities, it is a place not just of life but of death. Mortality is a hard fact to face however, in a community where the average age is around twenty. Speaking of the hereafter, have you seen this disturbing video where presidential candidate Mike Huckabee appears to claim that God is directing his campaign?
One could laugh off Huckabee's remarks were he only just another nut with no money and single digit poll numbers. But his campaign really is surging, and some are predicting an upset win by Huckabee in the Iowa caucus over current front-runner Mitt Romney of Massachusetts. Romney is a gaybasher and do-nothing former governor, but at least he's not saying (publicly at least) that he thinks he's on a mission from God. What has become of the old Republican Party of Reagan and Goldwater, which championed capitalism, individualism and a strong defense? Now the party is becoming overrun with religious nuts, while at the same time the Democrats have nothing better to offer.
Enough already. Can we stop all this silly political God talk and get back to discussing the pressing issues of this world? Our buddy Jay Brannan, whose career is taking off like a rocket, has written a song about religion and politics. I think it represents a big leap forward for him in the sophistication of his lyrics.
How the web is reflecting and changing our Valley and our world.
Today I'm all about video, which is only right because today is One Web Day, the informal online holiday when we are all invited to pause and reflect on the most important technological development in human history - the Internet. We are all living through an era of mind-blowing changes and the Internet is at the heart of all of it. Here is a video to familiarize yourself with the concepts behind One Web Day.
But for all it's transformative power, the Internet has in some ways failed to reach its full potential, largely due to large gaps in who has access to this powerful technology. For example, the largest voting group in the country is those over 55. However, that is also the group least likely to be online. So I can write all I want about our sleazy local hacks, but on Election Day thousands of old ladies who never used a computer in their lives, let alone read anything I or anyone else wrote online, are going to the polls to put those hacks in office. But that is also changing, too slowly perhaps, but it is.
The Internet can also give us insight into aspects of society we wouldn't see otherwise. A reoccurring problem in Springfield is the frequent refusal of witnesses to co-operate with the police in solving crimes. The Internet gives some sobering insight into that mindset from this video made some Springfield videographers. This message is being fed into the mind of every kid in Springfield with a computer.
But for every bad influence the Internet has, there are many more good ones. When I first began helping to promote the career of Jay Brannan by putting his songs on this website, he was a recovering alcoholic. Although greatly talented, the music industry rejected him because he wrote and sang about homosexual relationships. Supposedly there is no market for that, because straight people supposedly go "Yuck" when a love song is not about heterosexual romance. Jay is just now starting to get a little success, and I couldn't be happier for him. As this moving video shows, this is what the Internet is really all about, changing lives for the better.
I'm gonna be all over doing everything today, so I'm posting early with just a few quick photos and a vid. Today is dear old Dad's birthday, so last night we took him out to the historic Fort Restaurant in downtown Springfield. Here's a picture of me and the birthday boy.
This is my nephew Brett and my niece Emily.
The area around the famous Minuteman statue at UMass is undergoing some kind of landscaping. It's not clear yet exactly what they're up to, but it looks interesting.
Early this morning at UMass the statue of the local Indian Metawampe exercises his Second Amendment right to bear arms as he stands guard over the students awaiting the start of summer school.
It only stands to reason that where there's sacrifice, there's someone collecting the sacrificial offerings. Where there's service, there is someone being served. The man who speaks to you of sacrifice is speaking of slaves and masters, and intends to be the master.
Just as man can't exist without his body, so no rights can exist without the right to translate one's rights into reality, to think, to work and keep the results, which means: the right of property.
Love is the expression of one's values, the greatest reward you can earn for the moral qualities you have achieved in your character and person, the emotional price paid by one man for the joy he receives from the virtues of another.
Man is a being with free will; therefore, each man is potentially good or evil, and it's up to him and only him (through his reasoning mind) to decide which he wants to be.
Every man builds his world in his own image. He has the power to choose, but no power to escape the necessity of choice.
Money is only a tool. It will take you wherever you wish, but it will not replace you as the driver.
People create their own questions because they are afraid to look straight. All you have to do is look straight and see the road, and when you see it, don't sit looking at it - walk.
Run for your life from any man who tells you that money is evil. That sentence is the leper's bell of an approaching looter.
So you think that money is the root of all evil. Have you ever asked what is the root of all money?
Wealth is the product of man's capacity to think.
The hardest thing to explain is the glaringly evident which everybody has decided not to see.
The question isn't who is going to let me; it's who is going to stop me.
The truth is not for all men, but only for those who seek it.
The worst guilt is to accept an unearned guilt.
There are two sides to every issue: one side is right and the other is wrong, but the middle is always evil.
There can be no such thing, in law or in morality, as actions forbidden to an individual, but permitted to a mob.
To say "I love you" one must first be able to say the "I."
Those who say that theory and practice are two unrelated realms are fools in one and scoundrels in the other.
When I die, I hope to go to Heaven, whatever the Hell that is.
The other day I looked up to see my favorite color: The Rainbow!
I took that picture by the new market Maple Farms in Hadley, which is giving Whole Foods a run for their money in the fresh produce business.
Finally, here are some new videos by two of our internet friends Jay Brannan and Bo Burnham. That's all until tomorrow, when I will be attending the first meeting of the new Springfield Control Board.
