Mo Sno

 

As they say (whoever they are) "Beware what you wish for!" We were complaining all through the holiday season that it wasn't snowing, and now we are having snow storms interrupted only by arctic blasts, as Northampton's Silent Cal could testify, if he wasn't so silent and covered with snow.

In Amherst all the plows were out this afternoon.

Raos Coffee was packed with people relaxing over a hot, steaming brew.

I, however, was recruited to de-chill at the Black Sheep.

Silverscape Designs is a Northampton landmark with its iconic clock dating back to the time when the building was a bank. 

 



Across the street there is this bench.

And on that bench there is a plaque.

 



May all the dreamers who sit on that bench have all their dreams come true. 

 

Joe Carvalho (above) is probably best known locally for his longtime multiple roles with the Springfield Library and Museums Association. Today he's done with all that and heavily into a musical trip. This is one of his spacier compositions.

February Friday

A wooden bear outside the R & R Sport Shop in Belchertown.

 

Peter hanging a picture in the Haymarket Cafe in Northampton....

....while a customer looks on. 

Filmed in a Northampton club way back in 1991. Is that you dancing in the audience?

Observation on a Northampton bench.  

OOPS!

 

The way I have to walk every day is a perfect path of ice.

Despite my years of expert experience walking on icy New England sidewalks, I somehow managed to put my foot down in just the wrong way and before I knew what was happening I was on the ground. At first I tried to pretend that nothing was wrong, even though my right knee hurt. As the morning went on it started to swell and wasn't showing any sign of receding. Finally I went to see the nurse at work and she said, "You need to have that x-rayed." So off I went to the emergency room. 

The nurse at the desk told me that the hospital had been seeing slip and fall injuries all week. She brought me to this room filled with medical contraptions.

When they did the x-ray of my knee the news was good - no fractures. However I had strained a knee-ligament and would have to stay off my feet for the rest of the week. Thank God for sick days! Here is a picture of the big bandage on my knee.

So what's a good thing to do while primarily sitting? Well, reading is cool, and I've been enjoying a big biography of Massachusetts writer Nathanial Hawthorne. But even that gets dull, so I've also been spending some time sitting in restaurants, such as the Evolution Cafe in Florence. Joining me one day was my friend Emily, who was once involved with the same hippie drug cult that I was, but at a later time and without the drugs. As we chatted in the cafe she worked on making an origami crane.

Traveling further afield I went to The Ugly Duckling in Sturbridge, which is well worth the extra drive for their outstanding hamburgers. 

All of Northampton is abuzz about the new restaurant called The Roost, located where Pop's Liquors used to be. 

Inside I discovered two celebrities dining - multi-media figures Jaz Tupelo and Bill Dwight. They tried to block being photographed, but were no match for my paparazzi skills.

Jaz and Bill have just launched a new show on Valley Free Radio. Bill asked me if I would come on the show sometime and gave me his card. It had a cool radio graphic on it.

I almost went on Valley Free Radio a few years ago when Mary Serreze and Paolo Mastrangelo had a show. However, just before I was to appear the program got canceled. Warning to Bill and Jaz, inviting me on your show could be dangerous to your career!

Speaking of hotboy Paolo, he's been riding a wave of notoriety lately on his blog reports about the worsening rat problem in New York City. However those bold and nasty NYC rats are nothing like our sweet Northampton rodents, which never appear on Main Street unless accompanied by balloons.

Did you know that Ronald Reagan is now on a postage stamp?

This looks like an interesting show. I wonder what a band called "Mail Myself to Thoreau" sounds like. It should either be a beautiful country band or an ultra-extreme punk band. Ideally, it should be both. 

The Jerry Garcia Fire and Snow Ritual in Turners Falls, Massachusetts.


May the grit from the road of life
never tarnish the snowbanks of your love.

Holyoke photo and concept by Greg Saulmon  

The Book of Devine

 

One of my prized possessions is the old trunk my father used in 1950's when he was in the military. Notice that it has his Social Security number stenciled right on it.

 

One of the many reasons I wish my Dad were alive is so I could ask him about an insignia on the trunk. With it's iron crosses it looks almost like some Nazi artifact, although my father never served in World War II nor was he ever stationed in Germany.

However, maybe it's a decal my Dad got from his father, who did serve in World War II and who did bring a lot of Nazi stuff back from Europe. My Grandfather served all over Europe but never saw a moment of combat, serving instead as one of the military cooks; a humble wartime calling but an essential one because, as my Grandfather used to say, "An army marches on its stomach."

My Grandfather was full of war stories, which unfortunately I've forgotten most of. It is a shame that when we are young we only half-listen to the tales of our elders, only to wish when we are older that we could rehear them, but alas the tellers have vanished into the realm beyond telling.

One story I remember that my Grandfather used to tell involved an Irish monk and his sacred mission regarding a book. At the end of the war all of Europe was flooded with refugees of various types, people who had been displaced by the war and who were now returning to their homes - if their homes even still existed.

My Grandfather said that one day driving in Germany he came upon an elderly Irish monk who was walking along the road, carrying an old book. He stopped his jeep and asked the monk where he was going. The monk replied that he was trying to return to Ireland, from which he had fled after his monastery had been bombed.

"What is that book you're carrying?" my Grandfather asked.

"It is the only thing I was able to save from the ruins of my monastery," the old monk explained. "It is a book of genealogy dating back to the fourteenth century."

My Grandfather asked to see the book, and then was shocked to read its title - The Book of Devine. In it was the listing of the name, birth, baptism, marriage and death dates of every member of the Devine family going back five hundred years! My Grandfather quickly showed the old monk his dog tags.

"Look!" he cried," My name is Devine! This book is the only known complete record of my family history! I must have it!"

"NO!" the old monk exclaimed, "It is the last remaining relic of my monastery, and I have made a sacred vow that I shall return it to Ireland where it belongs. You cannot have it."

My Grandfather laughed, "Sorry old padre, but if you'll notice I have a gun and you do not, and I'm taking this book back to America with me." Then he walked to his jeep carrying the Book of Devine and returned to the base.

That night my Grandfather went to the tavern with his friends for a night of drinking, and as he walked there he kept thinking that he saw a shadowy figure behind him just out of view. When he got to the bar a small shape slipped in the door just behind him. Soon my grandfather recognized the old monk seated in the corner. He tried to ignore him, but he monk just sat and stared at my Grandfather from across the room the entire evening, making it difficult for my Grandfather to completely relax and enjoy himself. Finally at closing time my Grandfather went up to him demanding, "What are you doing here? Leave me alone!"

"Give me the Book of Devine." the old monk solemnly stated. My Grandfather sternly refused, left the bar and returned to the base.

The next morning, as my Grandfather drove away from the base, and a little down the road he saw a familiar figure standing by the side of the road. "Old man," my grandfather exclaimed, "this is a military installation! What are doing here?"

"You know why I am here." the old monk solemnly stated. "Give me the Book of Devine."

"Go away you old fool!" my Grandfather ordered. "Leave me alone!"

But every day for the next week, when he left in the morning and when he returned at night, there by the base would stand the old monk. Whenever he went to the tavern, there the monk would soon appear sitting in the corner. Always when my Grandfather confronted him he would make the same, solemn demand.

"Give me the Book of Devine."

Soon it became time for my Grandfather to leave to return to America. As he left the base for the last time, driving the jeep to the waiting plane, there as always was the monk waiting down the road, only this time he was standing in the middle of the street, blocking the way.

"Get out of the road, you idiot!" my Grandfather commanded. "Or I'll run you over!"

"Kill me if you must," the old monk replied, "for I prefer death to failing in my sacred duty before God to return the Book of Devine to Ireland."

My Grandfather could see that the monk was serious, and would not get out of the road. The stand-off in which my Grandfather attempted to threaten and cajole the monk to move was both time consuming and futile. The delay soon threatened to cause my Grandfather to miss his plane, and he was anxious to return to his family in the Pine Point section of Springfield. Finally, my Grandfather reached into his duffel bag and took out the ancient text and angrily hurled it at the feet of the old monk. "Take it and get the hell out of the way!"

The old monk snatched up the book, "Bless you my son!" he said as he quickly ran off and vanished from view. My Grandfather made it to his plane with only minutes to spare. 

So is that story true? My Grandfather had the gift of blarney (that's Celtic for bullshit) so one can never be sure. But whenever he heard that anyone was returning for a visit to the old country, he would always tell that story and then urge the traveler, "Keep an eye out for The Book of Devine!" but no one has ever found it.

 

Returning to 2011, all it ever seems to do in this new year is snow. Here the usually congested King Street in downtown Northampton is left deserted by the weather.

Even local media dude David Pakman had to dig his own car out from the snow. 

The view out the window of Dunkin Donuts.

 



A few months ago I showed you this tasteless graffiti on a dumpster outside a UMass frat-house.

 



Since then someone has painted something more politically correct over it.

 



Filmed entirely at the Jones Library in Amherst.

Sunrise on Springfield's Porter Lake by Burt Freedman. 

Snowland

 

On the way home last night, as the snow began to fall, I pointed my camera at the sky.

Along the woodland way into downtown Northampton, someone hung a lost glove on a twig in hopes that its owner would pass by.

The view out the front door of the Haymarket Cafe.

A wreath made of CD's on a music store.

.



Neil Young and Jerry Garcia in a snowy Main Street doorway. 

The UMass students have returned from their winter break, an event inspiring this act of retro vandalism on Herter Hall. 

This picture by S.P. Sullivan shows the Dickinson Estate in Amherst as it appeared during the snowstorm early this morning.

Here is a clever and heartfelt song about Ms. Dickinson.

A hawk and its pinned pigeon prey in downtown Springfield by Greg Saulmon. 

First Snow 2011

 

Wow, it sure has been snowing around here! It was so bad on the woodland way into downtown Northampton that people were on skis!

Arriving downtown, only starving spirits would venture out to buy bread from the Hungry Ghost Bakery.

Humans may not want to go anywhere, but a dog's gotta do what a dog's gotta do.

Silent Cal Coolidge wrapped in white.

Non-New Englanders may not know what this red disc is for sticking out of a snowbank. It is to tell the firemen the location of the hydrant buried beneath.

Pity the poor fool who left their bike outside overnight.

When it was all over, the snow was piled high in the streets.

The smartest people in our Valley chose to stay in coffeeshops like Raos and with the comfort of their computers.

 

 

B.T. Marchese and friends in Northampton 1994