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Listening is an act of love

Published by DJB

I’m not always a good listener. But I know how important it is to listen. So I felt a little better about my shortcomings when I heard David Isay, the founder of StoryCorps and the person who has said that “listening is an act of love,” confess that other than when interviewing people, he can be a really terrible listener. He’s impatient. (I can relate). Listening takes a lot of focus and energy, and all of us have our moments. In the interview, it was noted that listening is not something that we do all the time. It’s work. It’s a commitment. But we want to make room for listening. And as David Isay said, “It’s something you never regret.”

He also told a story that I want to pass along, in honor of Mother Theresa, who was recently named a saint by Pope Francis. Isay said,

“I don’t know if this is an apocryphal story or not, but there’s a story about Dan Rather interviewing Mother Theresa. And he asked her what she said during her prayers. And she said, ‘I listen.’ And, Rather then said, ‘Well, then, what does God say to you?’ And she said, ‘He listens.’”

If listening is good enough for Mother Theresa and God, then perhaps I need to work harder.

More to come…

DJB

Preservation with an International Focus

Published by DJB

DJB – with INTO Chair Dame Fiona Reynolds looking on – speaking to the FAI (Italian National Trust) staff in Milan

I have returned to Italy for the second time this year for a short meeting of the executive committee of the International National Trusts Organisation (INTO). Our host for this year’s meeting is Fondo Ambiente Italiano (FAI) or the Italian National Trust, a remarkable INTO member which has saved 54 properties and protected 6 million square meters of historic landscape in Italy since 1975. Over the past two days we have been meeting with the FAI staff at their headquarters in Milan and have toured three wonderful – and unique – FAI properties. Along the way the 15 members of the INTO executive committee have learned more about the Italian model of preservation while we share our own experiences and shape strategy for the group for the year ahead.

FAI’s headquarters in Milan is in a historic equestrian exercise rink that has been marvelously repurposed for 21st century office use. The space, desks, and equipment are all modern and set up for strong collaboration, yet the entire new three-floor interior addition could be removed without damaging the historic fabric of the walls and windows. Along with other members of the executive committee, I had the privilege of speaking to more than 100 staff of FAI, in my case telling them of NTHP’s work on the future of preservation and our ReUrbanism efforts launched just last week.

Headquarters of FAI – the Italian National Trust – in Milan

After a day of work at FAI headquarters, we traveled to Villa Necchi Campiglio – a 1930s villa in the heart of Milan – for a tour by FAI volunteers and dinner with the organization’s senior management.

Porch and sliding door at Villa Necchi Campiglio

Entrance hall to Villa Necchi Campiglio

This villa was designed by Piero Portaluppi and showcases the lifestyle of the Milanese upper-middle class in the period before WWII. It was a delightful evening, where connections were made for future work together.

Friday began bright and early, as we headed to Lake Como to begin a day of touring of two extraordinary sites, including FAI’s most popular – and heavily visited – villa. I’ll end with a shot to whet the appetite, but due to the late hour here in Milan and the slowness of my wireless connection, I’ll post many more pictures later.

Villa del Balbianello on Lake Como

More to come…

DJB

We Learn to Walk by Falling Down

Published by DJB

Walking shoes

I heard the line “We learn to walk by falling down” recently and was reminded that we can’t do anything unless we’re willing to fail. In our work, in our lives, in our relationships with others, in everything we do we have to be willing to try, fall down, get back up, learn, and try again.

All of us want our work and lives to make a difference. Being willing to fall down and get up again is part and parcel of making a difference, and I believe that supporting others on this journey as we all “learn to walk” is at the heart of what we’re called to do.

Let’s look for ways to learn together.

More to come…

DJB

Hope is grounded in memory

Published by DJB

Mary Dixie and George Brown — Mary Dixie Bearden Brown and George Alma Brown – my grandparents and part of the memory that gives me hope

Last Saturday marked my 20^th anniversary at the National Trust for Historic Preservation. For the past few days, I’ve been thinking about hope in the context of life’s milestones. Not a greeting card kind of hope or optimism, but “hope that’s kind of gritty…the kind,” as described by songwriter and author Carrie Newcomer, “that gets up every morning and chooses to try to make the world just a little kinder (or better) in your own way.”

The thought that “hope is grounded in memory” has influenced the work of another writer I admire, Rebecca Solnit. In a recent interview, she notes that “We think of hope as looking forward, but…(if) you study history deeply, you realize that, to quote Patti Smith, ‘people have the power’….(P)eople have often taken on things that seemed hopeless — freeing the slaves, getting women the vote — and achieved those things.” Knowing history gives me hope.

To be fair, hope is hard. Cynicism – where I have gone on occasion – is easy. But in thinking about 20 years of work at the National Trust, sharing experiences and losses and triumphs with some incredible colleagues, I have a hope that comes from our past and looks expectantly to the future. When the individuals came together 50 years ago to propose what became the National Historic Preservation Act, they were working against the very powerful forces of urban renewal. Forces that wanted to erase community, who said that the past didn’t matter. Now 50 years later, thousands of communities, in various ways, recognize the people who came before, and why their lives and work and places matter today and for the future. In thinking about where preservation goes in the next 50 years, we are facing different but equally powerful forces that again want to erase what came before. But my hope for the future comes from seeing what’s happened in the past 20, the past 50, the past 100 years.

I like the idea of hope being grounded in memory. Hope as a sense of uncertainty and coming to terms with the fact that we don’t know what will happen, but we have memories that show us that good things — powerful things — can happen.

But hope doesn’t always have to be grand work and gestures. It is a choice. A practice. To illustrate, let me end with a story.

I have a clock in my living room that is part of my earliest memories from childhood. The clock sat on the mantle in a bedroom in my grandparents’ home in Franklin, Tennessee, and when I visited I slept in that room. The first night I was frequently awakened by the ticking of the clock and the ringing of the chimes. Soon, however, they became comforting sounds that only registered in my subconscious. We’ve had the clock in our house now for more than a decade and it continues to provide accurate time and comforting rhythms to our lives.

I hadn’t thought much about my routine of winding the clock by hand each week until I recently read several thoughts from E.B. White about hope. White — the author of wonderful books for children such as Charlotte’s Web and countless New Yorker essays — knows that hope alone will not carry us forward. (Or as many consultants say, “Hope is not a strategy.”) We have to act as well. So White will “Get up on Sunday morning and wind the clock, as a contribution to order and steadfastness.”

As I reflect on this, winding my grandparents’ clock is a way of looking ahead expectantly. When I turn those cranks, I am reminding myself — through the memories of all my parents and grandparents accomplished — that there is another week ahead to do the good work we are asked to do. Or, as my grandmother would say, “To make yourself useful as well as ornamental.”

We live in a surprising world — which should give us hope. So follow E.B. White’s advice: “Hang onto your hat. Hang onto your hope. And wind the clock, for tomorrow is another day.”

Grandmother's clock — Take the time…to look at the other point of view

More to come…

DJB

The Firebrand and the First Lady

Published by DJB

During August I took the time to read Patricia Bell-Scott’s recent book “The Firebrand and the First Lady” about the friendship between Pauli Murray and Eleanor Roosevelt. Both women were instrumental in the struggle for social justice in the 20^th century. Eleanor Roosevelt’s life and impact is well documented. But Murray’s story – that of an African American member of the LGBTQ community, Civil Rights and Women’s Rights activist, the lawyer responsible for producing what Justice Thurgood Marshall called “the Bible of Civil Rights law,” a poet and writer, the first female African American Episcopal priest, and an Episcopal saint – has fascinated me ever since our colleague Karen Nickless brought Pauli Murray’s childhood home in Durham, North Carolina, to the attention of the National Trust. Early in 2015 we named the house a National Treasure, and are at work in support of its preservation and its listing as a National Historic Landmark.

Pauli Murray — The Firebrand and the First Lady by Patricia Bell-Scott

The release of this 2016 book was timely, as it raised the level of attention to the work and legacy of Murray while also showcasing the possibilities for using the place where she spent important parts of her childhood to further that work into the 21st century.

Bell-Scott’s work is rich in detail of the unlikely relationship built between Murray and ER (as the First Lady is referred to throughout the book). It is also an excellent read. Pauli Murray was a trailblazer, often taking steps that other – more celebrated – individuals took many years later. Bell-Scott notes that “Murray’s politics, temperament, and resolve to be herself frequently frustrated her family, friends, and people in organizations she admired, such as the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People and the Episcopal Church.” The author also suggests that “these difficulties also contributed to her marginalization, until recently, in the historical record.”

Irin Carmon, the co-author of The Notorious RBG: The Life and Times of Ruth Bader Ginsburg, points to Murray’s role as a “before her time” brilliant, yet individualistic, leader in a laudatory review of the book in the New York Times.

“You could say Pauli Murray was born too soon, and saying so captures the essential injustice of her life, but it would also rob her of credit for making her own time the best she could. “I’m really a submerged writer,” Murray once told her friends, “but the exigencies of the period have driven me into social action.” The granddaughter of a woman born into slavery and a mixed-race Union soldier, Murray was arrested for refusing to sit in the colored section of a bus 15 years before the Montgomery bus boycott and for participating in restaurant sit-ins in the early 1940s, long before the 1960 sit-ins at Woolworth’s lunch counter. She led a national campaign on behalf of a black sharecropper on death row.”

Seeing the modest house that is being restored for the Pauli Murray Center for History and Social Justice in Durham, North Carolina, and reading Bell-Scott’s book about the life that transformed – and continues to impact – so many other lives today, I am reminded of President Obama’s message when he named Pullman a National Monument: “That places that look ordinary are nothing but extraordinary. The places you live are extraordinary, which means you can be extraordinary.”

Pauli Murray House before restoration (2015) and after exterior work (2016) (Photo credit: Pauli Murray Project)

Pauli Murray certainly came from a place that looked very ordinary. But her life – as chronicled in The Firebrand and the First Lady – is nothing short of extraordinary.

Near the end of this compelling and highly recommended book, Bell-Scott quotes Murray’s comments at a 1982 conference on ER’s role as first lady – the first major conference on the subject following her death two decades earlier. Previously, Murray had been reluctant to talk publicly about her friendship, but she “hit her stride” when speaking at the conference of ER’s impact on her life.

“I learned by watching her in action over a period of three decades that each of us is culture-bound by the era in which we live, and that the greatest challenge to the individual is to try to move to the very boundaries of our historical limitations and to project ourselves toward future centuries. Mrs. Roosevelt, a product of late nineteenth century Victorianism, did just that, and she moved far beyond many of her contemporaries. I like to think that I am one of the young women of her time, touched by her spirit of commitment to the universal dignity of the human being created in the image of God (which we theologians call “imago dei”). Hopefully, we have picked up the candle that she lighted in the darkness and we are trying to carry it forward to the close of our own lives.”

This quote – and the whole book – speaks to how we can both challenge and support each other in our work toward social justice and human wholeness. There is much to consider in these few lines, especially in light of current events. I’m pleased that the National Trust is doing its part to ensure that the life and legacy of Pauli Murray – as seen through the place where she was nurtured – lives on, providing inspiration to today’s citizens and generations to come.

More to come…

DJB

Image: Portrait of Pauli Murray, on a wall in downtown Durham, NC, photo by DJB

Meanwhile, Back at the Ballpark

Published by DJB

Max Scherzer Bobble Head celebrating last year’s No-Hitter #2

With travel and vacation, it has been a month since I was at Nationals Park for a baseball game. Last night I made it back and realized how much I’d missed.

When I left, the Nationals were pulling away to about an 8-game lead in the division over the Marlins and Mets. Last evening, the Nats went into the opener of a series against the Colorado Rockies leading the Marlins by 8 games and the Mets by 10. Even though they didn’t play outstanding ball in August, they played well enough to keep the margin in the division race.

But when we left in early August, Anthony Rendon was just showing signs of coming out of a year-long slump and Bryce was still scuffling, with no real sign of playing like BRYCE! And there was this youngster – Trea Turner – who was not playing everyday, but who was taking advantage of what playing time he got to make an impact.

Well, four weeks is a long time to take your eye off the game, but it was nice to see where the Nats were when I returned. Let’s begin with Rendon. He will hit if he is healthy, but the first half of the year it was clear he wasn’t in top-notch health, and his offensive stats reflected the problems. But since the All-Star break, he has played like the old “Tony.” Since game 82, his stats are .312 / .386 / .584. (Batting average, on-base percentage, slugging percentage) In honor of Rendon’s resurgence, I wore his #6 t-shirt last evening. Those quick hands are back and it is fun to see.

What’s up with Bryce? Well, since returning from a stiff neck 13 games ago, Bryce is on fire. He is hitting .400, has driven in 15 runs (more than one per game), and last evening had the longest drive for the Nats, although it hit the top of the fence at the 402′ sign and Bryce wound up with a triple.

Trea Turner – who still looks like he is 12-years old – has been the other revelation. When I was last in the park, he stole home in one of the most exciting plays of the year. He is now an every day player – and as of his first bat on Saturday afternoon’s game, he had 13 hits in his last 16 at bats. Friday night he had two singles that never left the infield (Jeez, is he fast) and he induced two Rockies’ errors. He has changed the Nats offense and made it significantly better.

Max joins the Nats Bobble Head collection at home (NOTE: Presidents are at the office!)

On Friday evening – when fans received the Max Scherzer bobble head celebrating his second no-hitter in 2015 – we saw Gio Gonzalez win his 100th game, Daniel Murphy hit a solo home run and gather his 500th career RBI, and red-hot Jayson Werth homer and double. This remains a fun ball-club to watch.

Candice with her “Half Smoke All the Way” at Nats Park – now THAT’s eating!

And we had our own bit of history…Candice had her very first “half smoke all the way” from Ben’s Chili Bowl. A long-time friend and retired colleague of mine decided that he would rather work at the ballpark than sit at home retired, so I try to stop by and see Louis when I get by the park. He fixed up Candice’s half smoke with a little special TLC, and when Andrew texted to ask how she liked it, she replied, “It was great – ate every bite!”

Chatting with friends. Chowing down a half smoke with a beer. Balls smashed around the ballpark by a revitalized offense. Players running wild on the bases. Keeping score (for another win…I think we’ve banished the jinx that old scorebook once held). Ah, the rhythms of the ballpark. You just can’t beat it.

Go Nats!

More to come…

DJB

Adventures in moving

Published by DJB

After helping with at least the fifth move of one of his children to some new town and new apartment through the wonders of U-Haul, my father declared that he had “enjoyed his last Adventure in Moving.”

U-Haul no longer uses that phrase for their tagline, but after driving two full days from Tennessee to Washington with a van of family furniture, I am channeling my dad. No more adventures in moving for me!

Andrew and I flew to Nashville on Monday, where my sister Debbie met us at the airport and deposited us at the U-Haul office to pick up our van. Then my niece’s husband Jason and their daughter Kate joined us to help load the van. They were a godsend (not to mention Andrew’s many contributions over the three days), and we quickly had all the pieces of my dad’s home that were moving to Maryland strapped in and ready to go.

We already have a family bedroom suite from the Bearden side of our family (my grandmother’s family), but after my father passed away we inherited furniture from Uncle David Jefferson Wagner. You may recognize the first two names. Uncle Dave was like a grandfather to my dad, and I was named for him (along with my mother’s father – Thomas Jefferson Roberts).

Dick Poynor Chair — 19th century chair made by Williamson County African-American craftsman Dick Poynor (in its new home next to a church pew from First Baptist Church in Murfreesboro)

We were also thrilled to pick up two chairs made by African-American craftsmen in Franklin, Tennessee in the mid-nineteenth century. My father worked with Williamson County historian Rick Warwick to confirm that one of the chairs was made by Richard “Dick” Poynor (1802-1882) while the other was an all-hickory Patton chair (another Williamson County enslaved craftsman). Warwick’s 2005 book on the region’s material culture – Williamson County: More Than a Good Place to Live – describes Poynor’s life and work as follows:

“Richard “Dick” Poynor was born a slave in Halifax County, Virginia, on June 22, 1802….The Poyners were well-established as craftsmen in the community as Robert Poynor’s estate inventory of 1848 included ‘mechanics tools, some shoemaker’s tools, some blacksmithing tools and some chairmaking tools.’ It is assumed that Robert taught his slave, Dick, the art and mystery of chairmaking….Sometime between 1850 and 1860, Dick obtained his freedom and, if tradition is correct, purchased the freedom of his second wife, Millie….By 1851, Dick had moved from the Robert Poynor farm near Brentwood and was working at his horse-powered chair-factory and hillside farm off Pinewood Road in western Williamson County, 12 miles from Franklin.”

With the help of his son, Poynor produced hundreds of chairs in his factory. The “classic signature of a Poynor chair is found in the graceful arching mule-eared post secured with a wooden peg in the top slat.” My father had written a small note to go along with the history of the chairs that implored us to “keep them in the family.” Candice and I are thrilled to have both of these chairs.

Early on Tuesday, Andrew and I set out for the 13 hour drive home. One of the flukes of geography in Tennessee is that between Gordonsville and Cookeville, one drives over the Caney Fork River five times along I-40 in about a ten-mile stretch. On Tuesday, that whole stretch was covered in fog. Then I had to adjust to being passed by 18-wheelers…and having the winds whip our van. The 4% grade coming down the Cumberland Plateau is especially interesting in a truck, and Knoxville traffic is always challenging – no matter the vehicle.

By the time we made it to Bristol, we were famished and ready for lunch. But rather than take the quick bite from a chain along the interstate, I had to introduce Andrew to “State Street” in Bristol – where one side is in Tennessee and the other in Virginia. We found a great place to eat, and Andrew straddled the state line…in the middle of the street. (The kind folks who stopped and let us take our picture had – no doubt – seen many others do the same.)

Andrew in Bristol — Andrew (and his Beyoncé shirt) have a foot in Tennessee and a foot in Virginia on Bristol’s famous State Street

Along the way through this beautiful section of our country, Andrew and I listened to about 20 podcasts that he had carefully “curated” to appeal to my interests. We especially enjoyed the 99 Percent Invisible podcasts about various aspects of design. It felt appropriate that we were driving through some well-designed communities and were also carrying pieces of well-designed furniture that had meaning for our family.

Oh, and we talked and caught up on life.

Tuesday evening found us in Staunton, where we spent the evening with our good friends Doug and Tidge Roller. More architecture talk (Doug is a retired architect) and good food in historic, downtown Staunton, before hitting the bed.

We were fortunate in that traffic was light for the interstate between Murfreesboro and Silver Spring, and even the Washington beltway was manageable. We arrived home mid-day on Wednesday, unloaded our van (Jeez, that old furniture is heavy) and then returned the van. I loved being with Andrew for 3 days, and having the chance to catch up with family and friends. But…no more adventures in moving for me. At 61, it is time for a younger generation to take over.

Andrew and I listened to some of his music on the way home – Chicago House Music, Beyoncé (of course), 70s and 80s soul and disco music, and more. But the song that kept coming back in my mind was the Steve Earle tune he wrote to try to capture the classic “bad hillbilly murder ballad” feel. Carrie Brown includes the classic line about Bristol, “I shot him in Virginia. He died in Tennessee.” So here you go – enjoy a little bluegrass murder number with Earle and the Del McCoury band.

More to come…

DJB

Image: Andrew surveys the progress in our “Adventure in Moving” by DJB

Pilgrim’s Inn: Our home away from home

Published by DJB

You can tell a great deal about a lodging establishment by the quality of their Q-tips. More on why that matters in a moment

I started this post as a love letter to the Pilgrim’s Inn in Deer Isle, Maine, then I switched to describe it as a fan letter. Either works. In busy years (and 2016 has qualified), I spend close to 3 months out of each year in someplace other than home. It comes with the job. That experience was helpful as Candice and I looked for a place to stay in Maine for the last quarter of my sabbatical.

While at the American Academy in Rome over six weeks in March and April, Candice and I had a wonderful studio apartment in a historic building where we got accustomed to being in one room together for long stretches of time. We found that the studio apartment layout – with areas to sit and work, a table to gather around for conversation, and with windows to throw open and take in the fresh air – helped stimulate our personal interactions and my work. It was also nice to have two delicious meals a day provided, so that we could focus on other aspects of life.

The Maine part of the sabbatical was not as intense from a work standpoint, but I did want someplace that was relatively quiet, where I could read for hours on end in comfortable chairs, and where we had options for food and stimulating places to visit. Candice went online while in Rome and found just the place we were looking for: the Pilgrim’s Inn in Deer Isle, Maine. We booked the room that had the features we were looking for in a retreat and have enjoyed every day here over the past two weeks.

Greene Ziner Gallery — Artwork of Melissa Greene and Eric Ziner at Yellow Birch Farm

Deer Isle is not a tourist destination along the lines of Bar Harbor or Rockland. That was fine with us. We found hidden treasures, such as the Greene Ziner Gallery at Yellow Birch Farm, where potter Melissa Greene and blacksmith artist Eric Ziner hosted us for a farm dinner last Saturday evening.

Haystack Craft Center — Haystack Mountain School of Craft

Artists at Haystack — Artists at work at the Haystack Mountain School of Craft

We also took time to tour the beautiful campus of the Haystack Mountain School of Craft in Deer Isle, a treasure listed on the National Register of Historic Places just a few minutes drive from the inn.

The combination of a stunning natural setting, a unique campus designed by award-winning architect Edward Larrabee Barnes, and the focused energy of the school community, provides an environment that supports a serious exploration of craft, ideas and imagination.

The Greene Ziner Gallery, Yellow Birch Farm, Haystack, Owl Furniture – these were all places that the welcoming innkeepers at Pilgrim’s Inn directed us to as we sought out unique places in our home away from home. Tina Oddleifson and Tony Lawless have owned Pilgrim’s Inn for 11 years, and they are the “perfect” innkeepers – willing to talk when you want to talk, quick to size up a guest’s interests and make just the right suggestion, and always willing to stop and give you their undivided attention even when they must have had a dozen things on their to-do list before noon. The staff was all just as eager to make our stay comfortable and unique. We got to know some of them and their stories while we were here. Amy – who was a visitor at Pilgrim’s Inn for 20 straight years and cried each year when they had to leave – now owns the oldest house on the Island with her architect husband and works at the Inn. Paige began busing tables at the restaurant when she was 14, and is wrapping up her 7th year before heading back for her senior year in college as a journalism major. Mena (short for Philomena) heads off to California for school in a few short days, Madison, Jody, and the others whose name we didn’t catch. Like Gabby, Alesandra, Gianpaolo, Pina, and the other folks at the American Academy – all worked together and in the most friendly way to support our time in their special piece of the world.

Room #9 at Pilgrim's Inn — View of our home away from home…Room # 9 on the third floor…at the Pilgrim’s Inn

Sitting area — View back toward the sitting area – amidst the treetops – in Room #9

Pilgrim’s Inn is a beautiful 1793 home listed on the National Register of Historic Places. We lingered over a sumptuous breakfast there every morning, and had dinner at the Whale’s Rib Tavern restaurant in the inn six nights during our stay. Up in room #9, as we sat in our rocking chairs and read while listening to music or the birds, we felt we were in a treehouse, given that the inn has two large front yard trees just outside our windows. On most nights we were able to open the windows and let the cool Maine air blow through the room as we slept.

And about those Q-tips. Many travelers know that you can tell a great deal about the quality of a lodging establishment with items such as the towels and sheets. But Q-tips are a particular point of reference for me. Many hotels and inns provide them, but they buy the skimpy type that have very little cotton on the ends. The quality places? They have plush Q-tips. I knew we were in for a good stay at the Pilgrim’s Inn the first time I opened the container on the shelf by the sink and saw those plush Q-tips poking up between the cotton balls. Ahh…a true home away from home.

Thanks Tina and Tony for the wonderful hospitality. You helped ensure that – despite the high bar set by Rome – the final two weeks of my sabbatical were just as restorative and unique as the first six.

More to come…

DJB

Dawdling

Published by DJB

E.B. White once wrote, “The curse of flight is speed. Or, rather, the curse of flight is that no opportunity exists for dawdling.”

I’ve been reading White as we’ve dawdled the past few days near his long-time Brooklin home in Maine, our feet very much on the ground (and water). The first dictionary definition of dawdle is “to waste time,” but then options such as “moving slowly and idly” are put forth, as is “languid” and “saunter.” I prefer the latter choices, as we’ve been dawdling, but definitely not wasting time.

Monday we sat outside the Pilgrim’s Inn, at water’s edge, and read for a couple of hours in the morning, enjoying a picture perfect Maine summer day. Then we sauntered (if you can do so by car) over for a late lunch at the Brooklin Inn. Our friends Tim Boggs and James Schwartz had invited us to their area home for an afternoon sail and dinner.

As we were walking out of the Inn, James and Tim drove by, stopped, and encouraged us to hop in for a short tour of area sites. First stop – the graves of Katherine and E.B. White.

White Graves — Graves of Katherine and E.B. White

We then drove by the White’s old house and farm, made famous in many a book and New Yorker essay, and had a quick wave from the current owners who are friends of our hosts. Afterwards we stopped back to pick up our car and browse through a wonderful book and gift store (where I picked up In the Words of E.B. White: Quotations from America’s Most Companionable of Writers) before heading to the summer home of our friends.

Candice in Wilbur — Candice with our hosts in “Wilbur”

Candice and I are not sailors, but after a quick house tour we headed out at low tide in “Wilbur” – the dinghy – and boarded the beautiful wooden boat “Red Head” that Tim and James have moored in the bay near their home. Over the next 90 minutes we dawdled while Tim and James worked. It was a delightful way to take in their environs on a day made for sailing. Along the way we enjoyed views of the lighthouse at the end of Herrick Bay, along with views of Blue Hill and Acadia National Park.

Red Head (photo courtesy of James Schwartz)

We returned as the tide was coming in for drinks, conversation, and a wonderful meal with our hosts. It was great to catch up with both of these friends. They have been colleagues, family friends, and much more to all four of the Browns, and the evening passed much too quickly. As the summer light was fading, however, Tim took us down to the water’s edge to see the remarkable sky at sunset.

Today we dawdled some more, with reading book-ended around a lunch-time trip to near-by Stonington. That gave me the chance to finish the In the Words of E.B. White book. A delightful read, and I’ll leave you with just a few thoughts from one of the 20th century masters of our language.

Never hurry and never worry! (Charlotte’s Web)
Write with nouns and verbs, not with adjectives and adverbs. The adjective hasn’t been built that can pull a weak or inaccurate noun out of a tight place. (The Elements of Style)
If the world were merely seductive, that would be easy. If it were merely challenging, that would be no problem. But I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve (or save) the world and a desire to enjoy (or savor) the world. This makes it hard to plan the day. (E.B. White: A Biography)
I discovered by test that fully ninety per cent of whatever was on my desk at any given moment were IN things. Only ten percent were OUT things – almost too few to warrant a special container. This, in general, must be true of other people’s lives too. It is the reason lives get so cluttered up – so many things (except money) filtering in, so few things (except strength) draining out. (One Man’s Meat)
I would really rather feel bad in Maine than feel good anywhere else. (Letters of E.B. White)

I suspect you’ll see more of these in the future…but now I need to go and dawdle a bit.

More to come…

DJB

Image: Sunset in Maine by DJB

Observations from the Road (Or “The Deer Isle’s Locally Sourced Food and Music” Edition)

Published by DJB

With our fellow diners at the Yellow Birch Farm dinner on Deer Isle

During our first week on Deer Isle in Maine, we have jumped enthusiastically into the local food and music scene. Sometimes the outing was planned. At other times the opportunities were serendipitous. But isn’t that how we are to live?

This is one long “Observations from the road…” post, which could be titled “My, Maine has so much to offer in locally sourced food and music.”

Our first two encounters with food and live music were unplanned yet set the stage for our visit. Upon our arrival at Pilgrim’s Inn last Sunday evening, we saw someone carrying a guitar into his cabin. After meeting Richard Perlmutter and his wife Judy the next day and determining that he did – in fact – have a guitar with him, we agreed to meet up after dinner on Monday for an impromptu jam session.

Serendipitously, we found that the Whale’s Rib Tavern was open for dinner at the Inn on Monday (we had mistakenly thought it was closed both Sunday and Monday evenings), so we quickly booked a reservation and had the first of what has become a string of terrific offerings over this past week. I had the halibut, which was so wonderfully tasty, before we joined Richard and Judy in one of the cozy gathering places at the inn.

Fresh local seafood from the Whale’s Rib Tavern (photo credit: Pilgrim’s Inn)

Now, had I known that Richard has won multiple Grammy and national music awards, was the founder of the remarkably successful Beethoven’s Wig choral group, and has played professionally his entire career, I might have been less inclined to offer to sit down and play a few folk and popular tunes. But as far as I knew when we started, Richard was this very easygoing and friendly person who had a nice little parlor guitar and a Martin mandolin that he was carrying with him on a “tour that’s more vacation than tour.” To bring you up-to-date, here’s how Richard’s website describes his work:

Beethoven once said, “If my music had words it’d be a lot more popular.” His wish has come true! Modern day “co-writer” Richard Perlmutter has added lyrics to Beethoven (and Bach, Mozart, et. al) that have propelled the works of the old longhairs to the tops of the charts, and introduced them to new audiences everywhere.

Despite the fact that he’s forgotten more music than I’ve ever known, the four of us – joined about halfway through by a family visiting from Ireland – had a delightful time playing tunes and trying to remember lyrics. (Lesson #1: Always bring a fake book.) Over the course of our first 36 hours on the island, we had met the man who produced the first Nickel Creek album (when they were ten years old), played Irish tunes on the mandolin for a gentleman who loves to attend sessions back in Dublin, and had the first of several wonderful meals. What could be better?!

Deer Isle has limited restaurant offerings, but there are several that are very, very good. Whale’s Rib Tavern has never disappointed – for either breakfast or dinner – and we heartily recommend it for those visiting the Downeast section of Maine. Everything is locally sourced, and the menu offers just enough for everyone to find something appealing. We have discovered a number of favorites, but the Blue Hill rope raised mussels, roasted garlic cream, and fried leeks (especially those friend leeks) are extra tasty.

Mussels with fried leaks at the Whale’s Rib Tavern (photo credit: Pilgrim’s Inn)

Our second evening of combining exceptional food and music came about because Candice had spent time online to scope out things to do around the island. Stonington has both an excellent farm-to-table restaurant that overlooks the working waterfront and an active music venue across the street in the historic Opera House. But before we made it to either one on Friday – when we had reservations – we discovered a wine tasting at Water’s Edge Wines that helped jump-start the evening.

Living in the moment, we took the time to chat with the owners – Ken and Bette Kral – while sampling some excellent wines and cheeses. Along the way two ladies joined us at the shop and in the course of our conversation we found they – like us – were heading to Aragosta for an early dinner. Hillary and Yvonne had been classmates in a New England boarding school some 25-30 years earlier and were spending the weekend together to catch up and enjoy Deer Isle. Over the course of the next 24 hours we ran into them three times (it is a small island) and by the time they left to head home on Sunday we were sharing life stories and hugs in the parlor of the Pilgrim’s Inn.

Lobster ravioli, a signature dish at Aragosta, after I’ve taken a bite or two!

The daughter of a gardener and a chef, Aragosta’s Chef Devin Finigan grew up in the kitchen and the garden in nearby Vermont. The offerings at Aragosta are wonderful. Candice and I split a serving of Blue Hill Bay oysters, the signature lobster ravioli and the Old Ackley Farm duck (with house gnocchi, confit, blueberries, Morgan Bay Farm bok choy and green coriander). What a terrific meal, made all the more remarkable by the view out our window.

View of the Stonington harbot from Aragosta

But our Friday was not yet complete, as we had tickets to the Deer Isle Jazz Festival at the Stonington Opera House. The opening act was a terrific group of high school musicians from the George Stevens Academy. Then they were followed by Dafnis Prieto’s Si o Si Quartet. Oh. My. God. What a talented musician. What an incredible group.

Dafnis Prieto Si o Si Quartet (photo credit: Stonington Opera House)

Cuban-born drummer Dafnis Prieto has received a MacArthur “Genius” Fellowship and numerous prestigious commissions and awards, all honoring the originality and craft of his work as a composer, bandleader, drummer and educator. Prieto has entered the top echelon of a new generation of artists blending Cuban and American traditions to achieve fresh aesthetic goals.

The Si o Si Quartet features longtime Prieto collaborators Manuel Valera on piano, keyboards, and melodica; Johannes Weidenmueller on Bass, and Peter Apfelbaum on tenor and soprano saxophones, bass melodica, and percussion. Si o Si is a thrillingly multifaceted ensemble, with an orchestral richness to match its rhythmic complexity and breathtaking energy.

I am not generally a “drum solo” fan…but I could have listened to and watched Prieto all night long. He was so musical, so full of energy, and yet so seemingly effortless in his playing. Valera stayed with him on the piano and filled out the quartet sound along with Weidenmuller. Apfelbaum’s sax work was terrific. I was – to put it simply – blown away to be hearing this level of music in a town of a few hundred people at best. We met a couple at the Pilgrim’s Inn the next morning – easily identified as a jazz fan by his Downbeat t-shirt – and it turns out they have been coming to the jazz festival for years. I just love these small summer festivals that draw such incredible musicians to such beautiful – and inspiring – places.

So Saturday rolls around and once again the serendipitous meets up with the planned. As we were pulling into the inn after lunch, I noticed a couple of guys under a tent with guitars in hand, and remembered that the community bulletin board had a notice about “bring your instrument and play” time on Saturday afternoon next to the post office. I joined Jim, Mike, and a third player who came later, and we worked through bluegrass and country music standards for about an hour. Jim was “practicing” for his regular gig at 7 a.m. in Stonington at the “Church of the Morning After” – a jam session with fishermen along the waterfront. He encouraged me to join them, but I noted that 7 a.m. services were for folks who didn’t really have a “Night Before” – and we had plans.

At virtually every restaurant on Deer Isle, we’ve seen local providers, such as 44 North Coffee (a wonderful coffee roaster right around the corner from the inn), and Yellow Birch Farm. These local providers are keeping the best chefs supplied with locally sourced food. And Saturday night we had plans to see those two things joined at a farm dinner at the Yellow Birch Farm.

We joined 13 other new friends (an amazing seven of us from the Washington area – including three who live in the Watergate, where my offices are located, a long-time National Trust supporter, and a couple who found rooms in local houses for the Si o Si Quartet and all the other performers at the Opera House). We began with cocktails, followed by a farm tour and a wonderful two hours of food and conversation. Held in the 19th-century barn that is the Greene Ziner Gallery, we were surrounded by beautiful artwork by farm owners and artists Missy Green and Eric Ziner and fortified with a fresh and well-prepared dinner. Halibut was the main course, but I was especially taken with the tomato tart and the blueberry (of course) dessert.

Dessert at the Yellow Birch Farm dinner

As we rolled out a bed this morning to attend church at St. Brendan the Navigator Episcopal Church (what a great choice of a saint for the Deer Isle community), we wondered what this week will bring. But we’ve already made new friends, heard new music, and tasted some of the best of the bounty of Maine.

More to come…

DJB

MORE TO COME…

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