Why So Quiet?

2020 has been quite a year.  If you're reading this 5 years from now and you've forgotten how bad 2020 was, you need to pay attention.  I won't go into it much: the COVID-19 pandemic, racism in the United States and the world coming to a head, refusal to face climate change, wildfires and floods, Donald Trump and his sycophants, dysfunction at work, and of course getting older.

Speaking of age, I have more and more perspective each year and I like to think this all could be turned around.  We could end up better preparing for the next pandemic, addressing racism legally and in our hearts and minds, finding ways to mitigate climate change and prevent natural disasters, waking people up to not elect bad politicians.  And getting older also has the benefit of helping me take work less seriously ... I hope to retire on a happy note.

So what does this all mean anyway?  It means that I haven't been out to a fucking concert since The Kennedys in February!  As you may recall, things shut down pretty quickly and people realized that a sweating mob of stoned/happy people in an enclosed space was a breeding ground for the virus which could kill us all.  Best to cancel concerts and they did, left and right.

We'd had tickets for Phil Lesh, JRAD in Colorado, Kasey and Clayton, Hot Tuna, and of course the Green River Festival.  At first people thought, "Oh it'll all be over by July and the GRF is outside anyway."  But very quickly this was seen as unrealistic and we all shut ourselves away.  And here it is the end of the year and we're still shut away.

At first, musicians took up the baton and showed many free webcasts.  For a while it was Phish on Tuesdays, Weir on Wednesdays, Tedeschi Trucks on Thursdays, JRAD on Fridays, and Dead & Company on Saturdays.  There was also a great "Shakedown Stream" on Fridays with many fun interviews followed by archival Dead footage, much of it un-aired previously.  But then the bands ran out of old stuff to air for free.

Musicians and music venues have been suffering, as has an incredible amount of the economy and our culture, not to at all minimize the tragic fact that almost 2 million people have died already from COVID-19.  People are finding ways to struggle along when they can, and we've been "buying tickets" to see live streams online.  But nothing substitutes for live music.  Sarah and I want to be super-cautious about going back into crowds, especially since we're old and so are more susceptible to the coronavirus.  But we hope to be back seeing stuff live soon.

And when we do, the feeling will be thrilling.  I'm looking forward to the emotion of seeing Phil again, if we can, rocking in cheap clubs with fantastic bands, nodding our heads to flat-picking in coffee houses, and running around between stages at outdoor festivals.  Hope to see you there!

Weir River and Back

Dear Dad-

Dave is still living in the apartment you’ve visited in North Quincy, and this is great in many ways, one of which is that it’s near the sea.  I put the kayaks on the roof of the car and braved the Expressway to get down there this Sunday morning.  Picked up Dave and headed down Quincy Shore Drive to Hough’s Neck, both of us wearing masks (long story).

This Sunday was another beautiful mid-summer day with lots of swirling clouds, some of which threatened rain, and some sunshine.  We put in an hour or two past low, but on the ramp recently reconstructed by the city out on the Neck this was not a muddy proposition.  A few recreational Quincy boaters trying to figure out how to handle their trailers tried to tie up the ramp, but we were in and out before they knew it.

This time we headed due East, forgoing Hull Gut and staying in Hingham Bay, where the chop was incredible!  It was stirred up by all the boats coming and going into Quincy and on the superhighways to the Weymouth Fore River and Back River, as well as by the strong incoming tide and the Southwesterly breeze.

We were bound for the Weir River on the other side of the Bay, around Grape Island, Slate Island (you could see why it was so called by the rocks on its beaches), and Bumpkin Island.  When we got there there was a parade of boats going into the small harbor and another parade of boats coming out, and the coast was lined with an array of housing stock.  How was this different from sitting on the side of the highway, watching the cars?

So we floated South around the coast of World’s End (a state park) while we ate our lunch, and then headed back through the chop.  As you may recall, Dave’s kayak, Lizzy, has a high bow and it mounted each wave.  My Ruby has a bullet bow and it shreds the waves, though I was afraid of being buried in some of them.  We both had our skirts on of course and would have been sunk if we hadn’t!  As it was we got pretty wet.

But my point is that it was a beautiful day.  How was it different than the busy world?  Maybe not so much, but I think that difference is worth pursuing.  And I want to say thanks Dad, for giving us opportunities to realize the beauty of the sea, and for being an example of how it can and should be incorporated into one’s life.

-Jonathan