record company

Saturday Joel sent off this art which he created to San Francisco. I sent the music by Fedex air on a hard copy CD.

Part of what I do is produce CDs. It used to be only sounds I arranged and made. Once you figure out how to do it you add albums of other provenance realted to your niche.

This music was available only on reel to reel until now. While the EMU archives did a transfer to CD it was from a cassette made from a reel to reel and had skips and jerks.

Milton owns the reel to reel. Never played it. I might be in the photo. More and a link when it is released.

going, gone

What would you give for the 1996 Plymouth Neon? Two hours after this photo I took $800 in cash for it, standing at the AAA counter in Lancaster.

My sister Loretta bought it new when she and Patrick lived in Quarryville. About four years ago she sold it to me.

Kelly blue book lists it at $1,125. I placed a classified ad for six days, asking for $950 or best offer. With a fuel guage and speedometer on the fritz, with the a/c totally concked out ($800 repair), with it burning up oil a quart per 400 miles--hey, I'm not trying to balance out the world's finances.

There is an element of self interest. I don't want the buyer to call me in two weeks and threaten me or put guilt on me. I did feel my mother's instinct come out in the moment. It's an instinct to think an object one is selling is not really worth as much as you as asking. Why am I a used car prophet, warning the buyer of the doom to come? The headlights look like they have cataracts.

Anyway, if you want to see it, it now lives in the 100 block of East Chestnut Street, Lancaster.

where apples come from

Smokehouse apple blossoms display in the orchard at the end of the pasture. Honesty disclosure here--orchard is two apple trees, this and the yellow delicious. And, pasture is a triangle large enought to sustain two sheep.

The operative word today is "display." I might say, show off.

If every blossom matured into a half pound apple the tree would collapse.

The smokehouse variety is slightly antique. It was my mom's favorite and I love it as much as any.

take time to be a citizen

Hi Obama.

Hi Lancaster (pronounced correctly).

Saturday. A snap decision--thanks to Sarah who said the wait in line is not long--to see Obama at the train station. There's our Pennsylvania Senator Casey beside The Candidate.

The sensitive white guy over 50 thinks, which guilt do I want to assuage--civil rights or women's rights? Well, he's on the wrong track (no railroad pun intended).

Picking a leader is not about guilt.

Obama, three days before the primary, was making a whistle stop tour, Philadelphia to Harrisburg.

paw paw tree

Contractor John Thomas planted a paw paw tree on Friday, close to the cherry trees. That's his pickup in the driveway. Shortly after this shot the burlap was removed.

The paw paw is native to somewhere American. My mother planted one in about 1980 but it never bore fruit. Local people here, particularly Pennsylvania German types, think of it as a local wonder. It appears to be related to the plum. The fruit is tropical, as exotic as you can get in the temperate clines where winter freezes out fancy notions plants get in their heads at the end of a languorous summer of lavish living.

Having just listened to the audio version of the Stephen Ambroise book on the Lewis and Clark expedition of 1805, I learned that Lewis identified a plant west of the Mississippi as a paw paw. I'll let wikipedia sort that out for now. It is native. It is not hybrid fancy.

Notice freshely rototilled garden behind wheelbarrow--which is another wheel for my Eby Road catalog of wheels.

the wheels on Eby Road

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I have stood on busy city streets and saw hot dog cart wheels, bus, truck, rail, and carriage wheels. Remote Eby Road might have just as large a variety. You'd have to stand and wait several country hours.

Here's a neighbor, father of my childhood buddy and Monterey Gang fellow founder, burning up miles on his electric three-wheeler. I'd say the rig was doing 20 mph when I shot this. Notice huge battery on back and safety flag.

what I do--Monday

Let go of that stress. Borrow the neighbor's rototiller and do the garden. Call my son. He bikes by and we have an ancestral-agricultural moment. Photo by Joel.

what I do--Sunday

So, vocal ensemble on Saturday. Early next morning it's off to Souderton, Penna., to play a service at Zion Mennonite Church--with Felix Hell, the 22-year-old German wunderkind, in the audience. He played Bach Toccatta and Fugue in D minor for the offertory and also played the postlude. http://felix-hell.com/

His photo on his web is way out of date. His hair is down to his shoulders.

Was my hymn playing too loud? I asked him. He didn't think so. You have a large space to fill up, he said.

At 4 p.m. he played a professional concert. Of technique he has no shortage.

Afterwards I told him it was electricty and light. He was pleased

what I do--Harmonies

Here's what I emailed to people:

"Hey, I know it's tempting to spend all day Saturday "doing" things. But please consider going to the Shekinah concert in the new Blossom Hill church facility tomorrow at 7 p.m. You'll get nine women in their twenties who belt out a big variety of acappella stuff, mostly up-to-date "sing the story/journey" type. Check them out at shekinahmusic.net. And, it's free. It's sponsored by Harmonies, which is a group trying to offer good vocal moments for our lives."

The pic shows you what the takers got. A lot of people did come to the event.

Photo by Stanley Godshall.

Dutch haute cuisine

Okay. We go from the high of family on National Public Radio to--how shall we say it delicately?--estomac de porc.

Dorcas got a notion to do Pennsylvania Dutch at market Saturday morning.

So, you stuff this thing with potatoes, sausage, carrots, and celery. Bake for 3 hours. Voila. It's haute cuisine. You slice it open and don't eat the casing. It's really just sausage casserole. Or, as we say in Monterey, pig stomach. A first here.

nephew makes npr

Chris Lehman (blue shirt), my nephew who was born in Monterey, got his first story on NPR's All Things Considered. Take a listen. I'm a proud uncle.

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=89284522

waiting for Obama

You get there late, you have to stand. At least we got in.

After an hour outside in slight drizzle, after the metal detector screen, after a half hour standing, looking down on this crowd, finally the local organizer takes the mic and warms us up with a cheer for Rep. Mike Sturla, His Honor the Mayor Gray, etc.

I noticed I was not asked to pledge allegiance to anything (including the flag in front), especially the santicity of pre-born life or the supremacy of America, or the depravity of people who abuse drugs.

In other words, this was a civic meeting to do the business of running the country. I like being treated as an adult.