Summer Complaints. The first I heard that term was about annual summer visitors to the coastal communities of Maine. But, the name had an earlier etymology on the coast. Older residents could speak authoritatively of spring complaints, fevers, chills, and illnesses that came on with the change of the season in the spring. Once upon a time, every grannie would have had a specially concocted mixture of herbs and secret ingredients that everyone in the family would be forced to consume, along with the Cod Liver Oil that was a medicinal standard. A spring tonic.
My friends described the backside of Beacon Hill in the '60s as a working-class slum. Not at all an accurate description. Worn at the heels, seen better times, shabbily genteel; those were better descriptors.
A part-time occupation of mine for years was teaching media and television production to students. The area of teaching the course that always provided the most significant issues was Copyright and usage rights for the music.
We were sitting around in a circle. As one song ended, the next person in the ring would pick up and add her or his voice with a song of their choosing: Josh, someone new to us, joined the circle. Josh was carrying the Stella guitar that no one ever used. It had action so high that fretting was almost impossible.
I sat down to watch the movie " a Mighty Wind" with some trepidation.
Bill and I had a sometimes business carving "genuine" Tiki gods, and other countercultural junk. This we accomplished mostly with a Dremel tool and routers. One of us had to find cheap wood for these projects, and scrounging was my specialty.
The Cap'n and his wife Cora were not children of the Great Depression. They preceded it but lived through it. The Cap'n happily reminded me, whenever I was about to indulge in anything he perceived as a frivolous expense that " In Maine, when the rest of the country got a cold, Maine got pneumonia." …
Sailor's - being superior sorts- were well in advance of the modern world when it came to reducing, reusing, and recycling. They made new from old.
I found the wood sitting in the shorts at my favorite hardwood dealer. It was very dark, heavy, and dense. It was mahogany but so dark and heavy that I felt that it was a wayward piece of Dominican and not Honduran. It was just what I wanted. I was interested in, one with a distinctive font ( Barnhard Modern) and to give it both a center and ends that undulate. The result was pleasing. At shows, people run their hands over the banner as a sensual experience, precisely what I wanted.
We all traverse physical distances as we travel. But most of the pleasure of travel is traversing experience—the cultural, culinary, linguistic, adventures of a new place. Or of watching schooners tacking on a bay.