Good Times

As much as I enjoyed "Good Times," this post isn't about the Norman Lear-produced sitcom (which often, as I like to say, took the "com" out of sitcom).

No, this is about having fun over Thanksgiving with my immediate and extended family. Beth and I traveled south with the kids Thursday morning, hitting quite a bit of traffic, but still arriving at my parents' house in Windsor in plenty of time before dinner. My sister was there, as were my brother and his two kids, Grace and Isaiah.

My mother and sister prepared all the great food: turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, cranberry sauce, salad and gravy. We brought bread, pies and beer. After stuffing our faces, some of us went for the requisite post-meal walk around my parents' neighborhood. The weather was oddly warm (as it has been a lot this month), which was nice. Unlike much of America, we eschewed (I love that word) football, in favor of just hanging out, playing games and listening to my mom play the piano. Hearing her play a few Christmas carols and some ragtime numbers was a treat, as my mom doesn't tickle the ivories as much as she used to.

That night, we slept at my sister's house in West Hartford, with the kids going to bed close to 10:00. The next morning, we all walked to breakfast. We wanted to go to this place, the Quaker Diner:



Unfortunately, this snug little joint was a little too busy to wait with two hungry kids. I do love diners, so we'll have to get there a bit earlier next time.

We ended up, instead, at A.C. Petersen Farms, the remaining restaurant in what was once a small and very popular chain run congruently with four farms.



After breakfast we went back to my parents' house for a while. After a few hours, we headed back to West Hartford to visit my friend Gary and his wife, Rebecca, and kids, Evan and Olivia. While the kids played amazingly well together, the four adults had some drinks and just chewed the fat. As we did with everyone else we saw that weekend, we heard from Gary and Rebecca about what they went through during the loooooooong power outage that much of Connecticut suffered through earlier this month.

I was amazed at all the tree branches still stacked in front of so many houses, awaiting pick up by city and town trucks. I was impressed with how well all my friends and relatives did during the Dark Days.

After our visit, we went back to my sister's place, where my brother and his kids, as well as my parents, were joined by all six of my Brigham cousins and most of their family members. Here are my cousins (l to r) Lynne, John, Amy, Joy (hidden) and Ann:



Here's my cousin Sue (r) with my mom:



Here, my dad entertains my cousins Lynne and Ann, and my mom:



Because it's rare that my brother, sister and I get together with all six of our cousins, there of course had to be pictures:



Thanks to my cousin John's son, Matt, for snapping this great picture.

I took some pictures of the next generation of cousins:



(left to right: Sequoya, Owen, Grace, Lindsay, Isaiah (on Lindsay's lap), Sam, Amelia and Matt)

It was a really fun night.

The next day we trekked back up to my parents' house to say goodbye to my brother and his kids. Then we went out to brunch with my sister and my parents at the Whistle Stop Cafe. The restaurant moved from a smaller location around the corner earlier this year into a space that's pretty huge. The food and service were good, and I like the fact that they feature entertainment on weekends and have a nice little bar tucked into the corner. I wish them well.

Traffic on the way home on Saturday was non-existent, which made for a relaxing trip. Good times, indeed.

Giving Thanks

Happy Thanksgiving!

I Love Lydia

Whenever I tell people I like country music, I have to quickly add, "but not the mainstream crap." I like old stuff like Hank Williams, Johnny Cash (as well as his later stuff), Buck Owens, Hank Thompson and Wanda Jackson, as well as newer stuff ranging from Giant Sand to The Derailers, BR-549 to Lucinda Williams.

And now you can add Lydia Loveless to that list. How can I not love a 21-year-old woman who's confident enough to write and record a song called "Jesus Was a Wino?" Or who covers Metallica in concert?

With a voice powerful enough to slap a cheatin' man standing at the back of the bar, Loveless (her real name? I don't know. I knew a kid in junior high school, a Mormon as it turned out -- the first one I ever met, maybe the only -- named Loveless, so it's possible) is so damn self assured it's scary. Evidently she grew up with musicians tramping through her parents' house, as her father owned a country music bar. As a teenager -- you know, like, just a few years ago -- she got turned on to punk rock and hero-of-the-gutter Charles Bukowski, so now she combines those two musical flavors into what somebody wisely, years ago, dubbed cowpunk.

Anyway, here are a few videos, including the aforementioned Metallica cover.

Subterranean

I've taken so many pictures of Boston's subway system, I don't think I'll ever have enough time and space to post them all. I've posted countless albums on my Facebook page documenting the numerous trips I've taken on the MBTA with my son, Owen. I've also posted a bit on my other blog, The Backside of America (see August 30, 2010, "Going Underground").

Owen likes the different types of trains, especially on the Green line -- well, he used to before he got completely and totally absorbed in Mario Kart. On our trips, I've always taken more interest in the stations, the people and the surrounding scenes on the above-ground portions of our trip.

All the shots in this post are of a mosaic in the Park Street station on the Green line. The work of art was created in 1978 by Lilli Ann Rosenberg, who passed away earlier this year at the age of 86. One hundred ten feet long and weighing in at 12 tons, the mosaic depicts the history of the Boston subway system.

Book Review: "Occupants" by Henry Rollins

I first heard Black Flag nearly 30 years ago, when I was in high school. I was a huge fan of the band through college and for the few years beyond. I saw them twice, and became quite enamored of their lead singer, Henry Rollins. I bought a few of his books, and saw his post-Black Flag band, the Rollins Band, during the brief time I lived in Albuquerque.

In more recent years, I've watched a few episodes of his talk show on IFC, enjoyed his talking head appearances on a variety of networks, and jumped in the wayback machine to watch old Black Flag clips on YouTube.

The only movie of his (and there are many) that I've seen is "Heat," which I didn't like and forgot that he was in. So I'm quite familiar with the man and his output. I'm a fan, although I don't always agree with what he says, and I sometimes get sick of hearing him go on with his strong opinions.

Having in recent years tried to develop an eye for photography, I decided upon learning that Rollins was to publish a book of photos, that I needed to own it.

The photos are by turns heartbreaking, bizarre, beautiful, humorous and uplifting, and always imbued with a sense of humanity. Because Rollins is a man who loves to talk and write, there are of course short essays accompanying each picture.

As he says in the beginning of the book, "I thought it would be pretentious to release a book that only had photographs...So I decided to write something for every photograph."

Great idea, indeed. As someone who publishes a blog featuring pictures of the lesser-seen parts of these United States (The Backside of America), I'm a big believer in words matched with photos.

But Rollins's accompanying write-ups are not at all what I was expecting. I was hoping for explanation, rather than stream-of-consciousness ramblings. Some of them work, some of them don't, but none of them tell me what, who or where I'm looking at. I'm a journalist at heart, and I need that information.

Still, there are some cool shots in the book, and certainly plenty of things to think about as far as injustice, poverty, war, decay, beauty and the human spirit go. Do the photos shock or amaze? No. Does Rollins bring fresh perspective with his words? Nope.

Will this book sit under a coffee table (I know, they're supposed to be on the table) along with my other big books -- "Lost Boston," "The Big Dig," "Lost America" and "Punk: The Definitive Record of a Revolution" among others -- to be pulled out and reviewed once or twice a year? Yeah, sure.

At the very least, the presence of "Occupants" in my house will provide a few opportunities for me to expound on the virtues of Black Flag to my kids, and maybe even their kids.