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Red Wing Swings

Published by DJB

The sun broke through on Day 2 of the inaugural Red Wing Roots Music Festival just as John Jorgenson hit the stage.

Somewhere, Django Reinhardt was smiling.

Jorgenson’s quintet – channeling the Hot Club of France – displayed an amazing level of musicianship while having a great time in the process as one of the headliners at the Shenandoah Valley’s first Red Wing Roots Music Festival. Now some may ask how jazz fits into the Americana roots music pantheon, but the European string jazz of Reinhardt and Stephane Grappelli from the 1930s had a direct and transformative impact on roots musicians from David Grisman, to Saturday evening’s headliner Sam Bush, to fiddler extraordinaire Mark O’Connor, to mandolin phenom Chris Thile.

Jorgenson’s quintet got to show their chops on Mediterranean Blues, a song written by a Vietnamese-born composer who grew up in England and now lives in Amsterdam. Every solo was inventive and exhilarating – which is just as true about the songs in Jorgenson’s entire set.

Saturday’s music began for us with Staunton native Nathan Moore’s performance on the main stage. We knew the Moore family a bit when we lived in the Valley, so it was great to hear this young and impressive singer-songwriter who has already won a Telluride Troubadour Award. His Get Me Off the Chain was dedicated to all the folks (like me) who are not on Facebook. Moore’s songwriting, to quote a friend from Staunton, is seriously good. Ana Egge (photo above, with Sarah Siskind and members of The Steel Wheels) was another new find for us. Her Hole in Your Halo was just one of a full set of smart songs.

Brooklyn-based Pearl & the Beard were easily the most unique band of the weekend. Their website description of “three voices, one cello, one guitar, one glockenspiel, one melodica, several drums, one accordion, ninety-six teeth, and one soul” is pretty accurate. This was one band that Candice and I were still talking about on the ride home on Sunday.

Eilen Jewell, the Queen of the Minor Key, has a fine honky-tonk voice that worked well on Loretta Lynn’s Give Me a Lift. Her original Bang, Bang, Bang with the tale of Cupid at a Texas gun show really showcased her alt-country sensibilities.

That little cupid, he’s a real sharp shooter
I don’t believe he’s got an arrow and bow
People all think he just couldn’t be cuter
But I saw him down at the gun show

He appeared to be about two years of age
A really freaky thing to see
He was bragging about his sawed-off six gauge
Hidden right up his tattered sleeve

I asked him if the gun had a sight
How can you hit your mark that way
Little cupid, he just laughed outright
He said I don’t take aim I just bang bang bang
I don’t take aim I just bang bang bang

He fired off a few hot rounds
Right into the sorry crowd
No blood, no gore, no one hit the ground
They all just fell in love
With whoever they happened to be around

It’s funny, till it happens to you
But be sure you stay well out of his way
Love is careless, random and cruel
He don’t take aim he just —
He don’t take aim he just bang bang bang

He don’t take aim he just bang bang bang
He don’t take aim he just bang. Bang. Bang

Well worth a listen.

After a break for supper, we were ready for the main stage set of the host band, The Steel Wheels. I wondered if I would tire of the group after three performances in three days, but they wear well. The set was familiar, but the musicianship and energy on their big night as hosts more than carried the day. The light rain that came and went throughout the evening mostly stayed away during their set, and the crowd was definitely not going to let a little moisture dampen their spirits.

Earlier in the day a white-haired fellow a couple of years older than me, in a New York Yankees cap and a Tony Rice t-shirt, walked up and said, “I don’t like your hat, but I like that shirt.” I, of course, had on my Washington Nationals cap and a Sam Bush Band t-shirt. So I looked him over and said, “The feeling is mutual.” We laughed, and he said, “Are you prepared to stay awhile? The last time I saw Sam he played late into the night.” I allowed as how that was my experience as well and off we went – just your two, typical Sam Bush fans.

It took over 30 minutes for the band set-up, and a number of the festival-goers who came for The Steel Wheels abandoned ship as the light rain continued. Sam isn’t everyone’s cup of tea (Candice isn’t a fan), but I’ve loved Sammy’s energy, chops, wicked sense of humor, and musical sensibilities since I first saw him in Nashville one summer evening in the early 1970s at the old Exit/In with the first incarnation of The Newgrass Revival (yes, Ebo was playing bass that night) with special guest Vassar Clements. I had never seen such energy and rock sensibilities fused with bluegrass chops on acoustic instruments, and I became a lifelong fan.

Sam opened with the Delmore Brothers‘ Freight Train Boogie – which surprised me a bit until at the end of the tune when he said it was in memory of Doc Watson. Doc single-handedly kept the memory of Alton and Rabon alive through the years, and Freight Train Boogie is considered by some the first rock-n-roll song. Sam was a long-time occasional sideman for Doc, and one of my last full-length concerts I heard Doc play was when he and Sam played the Birchmere a few years ago.

Casey Jones he was a mighty man
But now he’s resting in the promised land
The kind of music he could understand
Was an eight wheel driver under his command

He made the freight train boogie
All the time
He made the freight train boogie
As he rolled down the line

Sam’s set included old favorites (Riding That Bluegrass Train; One Love) and “a song by a band that never played this venue” (I’ve Just Seen a Face). Even in the rain, the energy and musicianship were there in abundance.

By Sunday morning when we returned, the sky was blue and the crowd gathered next to the Natural Chimneys that give the park its name was ready for some gospel with the Steel Wheels. The group and a few friends helped get us all ready for the festival’s final day.

The band we most wanted to see on Sunday was long-time Shenandoah Valley (and Prairie Home Companion) favorites Robin and Linda Williams and Their Fine Group. Robin was recovering from a recent fall and cracked ribs, but he hung in there with the rest of the group and helped put out their own brand of Americana. (Robin and Linda were Americana before there was an Americana.) Linda’s voice is still powerful, the two still harmonize like songbirds, and they continue to write terrific songs (like Rolling and Rambling: The Death of Hank Williams). Their recent trip to the Country Music Hall of Fame in Nashville led them to write a song to two of the more iconic instruments in country music: Maybelle’s Guitar and Monroe’s Mandolin. Forty years into their act (and marriage), Robin and Linda still have a playful sense of humor that – as Garrison Keillor says – is all you need for a good time.

So to go out with that good vibe from a wonderful inaugural Red Wing Roots Music Festival, here are two videos of Robin and Linda: the first from PHC – with Sam Bush, Jerry Douglas, and Stuart Duncan as their backing band – singing Rolling and Rambling on New Year’s Eve. Then enjoy Maybelle’s Guitar and Monroe’s Mandolin.

Long live Red Wing!

More to come…

DJB

Red Wing takes flight

Published by DJB

Well, that certainly was a promising start.

Day 1 of the 1st Annual Red Wing Roots Music Festival promised a talented and spirited mix of the roots and branches of American music. And in spite of gloomy skies and the occasional (and thankfully brief) rain shower, this brand new festival — located deep in the heart of the beautiful Shenandoah Valley — pretty much delivered.

The festival is the brainchild of an energetic, talented, and amazingly entrepreneurial (for a bunch of roots music players) band The Steel Wheels, fronted by one of the great voices in Americana music, Trent Wagler. Candice and I arrived back in our old Valley stomping grounds (we lived for 15 years in nearby Staunton, Virginia) after the soggy drive down from Washington just in time to walk in on the 4 p.m. set of the hosts under the tent at the Carolina Old Time Family Stage. And given the weather, could The Steel Wheels really begin this festival with any song other than their iconic Rain in the Valley?

This was the song that turned heads at Merlefest 25, and the Red Wing crowd – made up of the band’s many loyal fans and taking up every square inch of the huge tented area — exploded when Wagner took his cymbal stick (or whatever you call that thing he slams on the floor to set the beat) and was joined by Eric Brubaker, Jay Lapp, and Brian Dickel around a single mic for some amazing four-part harmony singing.

The hosts had a spirited hour-long set, with old favorites (Cluck ‘Ole Hen) and songs from the new album No More Rain. If you haven’t heard The Steel Wheels — on either record or live — both are highly recommended. This is a terrific band.

When The Steel Wheels finished rockin’ the final number (and Candice turned to me as said, “That feels like a song you end the festival on!” and not just the first of three shows they’ll have this weekend), we scooted across beautiful Natural Chimneys Park to the main stage to hear one of my favorites – the Claire Lynch Band. Claire is one of the originals in bluegrass music and gifted with one of the most beautiful and expressive voices on the scene today.

Claire is as unpretentious a performer as you’ll see on stage. (At one point after the group was fumbling around a bit to get itself organized, she turned to the audience and said, “Let us know if we’re getting too slick for you.” Claire’s the antidote to the Dailey and Vincents of the bluegrass world — and in my book that’s a good thing.) But her songwriting is superb (check out the beautiful Dear Sisters — the title tune from her new album — which is taken from letters written by Civil War soldiers before the Battle of Stones River in my hometown of Murfreesboro). And her band is killer (Matt Wingate’s take on Sting’s She’s Too Good for Me is a highlight). And that voice can do just about anything…from the lick-and-a-promise gospel of Children of Abraham, to the swing of Who Knows What Tomorrow Will Bring, to the hard-core bluegrass of the Osborne Brothers’ Be Alright Tomorrow. After her too-fast hour-long set, I renewed acquaintances with Claire (my cousin Hershey produced the first Front Porch String Band album and wrote one of her festival favorite songs) and picked up my own signed copy of Dear Sisters. That’s what good festivals are supposed to provide — plenty of space and time for these amazing performers to have a “shake and howdy” with their fans.

Tim O'Brien at Red Wing Roots Festival 2013

In fact, the first person I heard use the shake and howdy turn-of-phrase was the festival’s next performer, multi-instrumentalist Tim O’Brien. Performing solo at Red Wing, O’Brien can still sound like a full band as he displays his impressive chops on guitar, mandolin, and fiddle. But as impressive an instrumentalist and singer as he is, songwriting is where O’Brien really shines in my book. He worked in originals throughout the set, along with great traditional tunes such the gospel number Keep Your Lamp Trimmed and Burning that he recorded with Darrell Scott several years back. But his encore is among my favorite tunes of all time, the beautiful Like I Used to Do.

There was a time when we’d be the last to leave
Watching the sun come up while everyone fell asleep
The music was always loud and I’d smoke and drink too much
Until I’d fall in your arms and into your lovin’ touch
Now as the years roll by, time has reeled me in
I’ve slowed down a notch or two from the way things were then

Those old ways of mine, I’ve left them behind
Those crazy days are through
The only thing I still do like I used to do
Is carry this torch for you…

Simply beautiful.

At the 7 and 8 o’clock hours, we caught a couple of performers that were new to me. Gregory Alan Isakov had a strong show on the main stage, followed by a loud…but not necessarily to my taste…performance by the band Yarn. That gave us some time to eat dinner, catch up with long-time friends from Staunton, and buy my raffle ticket. (Yes, I will win that beautiful Huss & Dalton guitar.) And when 9 p.m. rolled around, we were back in our chairs for the kickoff show of the summer reunion tour of The Duhks.

The Duhks at Red Wing Roots Festival 2013

I first heard this Canadian band – in the original incarnation – several years ago at Merlefest. I’ve heard them off-and-on through the years, and while always strong, this particular line-up has always been a favorite. Singer Jessee Havey has a voice that fits this energetic and innovative group, and last evening they had the crowd clamoring for more from the traditional jigs all the way through to Death Came a Knockin’. Percussionist Scott Senior adds an especially non-traditional beat to this neo-trad band. Great show!

By 10:30 p.m., the moisture in the air was heavy, but that didn’t faze the wonderful hair — or terrific spirit — of bluegrass master Del McCoury.

Del McCoury at Red Wing Roots Festival 2013

Playing with sons Ronnie (mandolin) and Rob (banjo), Del’s voice sounded a little tired but classic nonetheless. (A tired Del McCoury beats about 99% of the lead singers in traditional bluegrass on their best days.) Candice had never seen Del’s act, and when he opened his mouth to speak, she turned to me and said, “He sounds like your dad!” which I took as a favorable comparison, since she loves Tom Brown.

Ronnie McCoury at Red Wing Roots Festival 2013

Rob McCoury and Jason Carter at Red Wing Roots Festival 2013

The best place to watch a Del McCoury Band show is up-close and right in front. There you get the interplay of the musicians — like a finely tuned machine — working that single mic. Del mugs for the crowd, a fact which is lost in the back rows, and the sound washes over you like a rippling mountain stream. When Del answered a request and played Richard Thompson’s classic 1952 Vincent Black Lightning, I knew that Day 1 of the first Red Wing Roots Music Festival had been appropriately christened by the master.

I said that Like I Used to Do was a favorite of mine, so I’ll take us out of Day 1 with an old video of the tune featuring a much younger Tim O’Brien (along with much younger versions of Mary Chapin Carpenter, Jerry Douglas, and Mark O’Connor). Enjoy!

More to come…

DJB

How College Students Can Lead to a Wonderful Holiday Weekend

Published by DJB

When a colleague asked about our plans for the upcoming holiday weekend, I told her that Andrew and Claire each had friends from college who were in town and would be staying with us. I assumed our role was “To stay out of the way.”

Thankfully, I was wrong. Jason, Jordi, Jackie, Kelsey, Claire, and Andrew were delightful guests and hosts, sharing some of their time with us and also giving Candice and me the space to enjoy our weekend with each other.

We began with our “traditional” July 4th celebrations – and all the twins’ friends joined us (rather enthusiastically, I think). While the Takoma Park July 4th parade didn’t have quite the pizzazz of a presidential year (I miss the “Mutts for Mitt” floats with dog puppets on top of cars and there wasn’t anything to reach the level of last year’s “precision grill team”), we still had a great time laughing at the floats and enjoying the world music you always hear at our little slice of Haight-Ashbury here in DC. Afterwards, it was off to our neighborhood pool for the July 4th cookout. It was my first time at the pool this year, but not the last time for the weekend. We enjoyed catching up with old friends while the kids all hit the water on a very hot and sunny day.

Afterwards, Claire, Andrew, and their friends all took off to watch the fireworks on the mall with other friends from college – Andrew from the waterfront in Georgetown, and Claire from a roof at George Washington University (see photo of her great vantage point). After dropping them off, Candice and I found one of the few restaurants open on July 4th (a Mexican restaurant) and ate dinner…which we immediately wished we had skipped. The resulting heartburn put us both on the couch for the evening to watch the fireworks at home.

By Friday we’d recovered and generally had a leisurely day of rest, exercise at the gym, and an early dinner with Jordi and Andrew. Candice had noted that the Bethesda Big Train – one of our local wooden bat league teams – had a home game that night, and we made the decision to head out for a night of small-town baseball. As I’ve written before, we love the feel of these league games, so we joined a sell-out crowd of 700+ at Shirley Povich Field for a terrific night of baseball and a tight, 3-2 Big Train win over the Rockville Express. Both teams wiggled out of bases-loaded jams with less than two outs on a night where pitching and defense were a priority. As we walked back to the car, I opined that this was the best baseball I had seen all season. (The Nats are still hovering around .500, although they are just starting to get healthy.)

Saturday morning began bright and early, as Andrew had a singing “gig” at Franklin Knolls. The team rep had asked if he would sing the National Anthem before the swim meet where the graduating seniors would be recognized. The four of us went (we let our guests sleep in) and we all had a great time catching up with more old friends from swim team days past. We even set a dinner date for later in the summer with a family we enjoy but don’t get to see that often.

Then last evening was the icing on the cake of a very rich weekend. Candice had noticed that the stat geeks from Baseball Prospectus were going to be speaking at Politics and Prose on Saturday. We went early, I had a seat near the front, and I wallowed in 90 minutes of OPS, “bat missing” pitching prospects, and “five tool” players. As you can see from the picture at the top, these guys aren’t pretty, but they are smart (and Candice would add “opinionated”). As one P&P regular put it, these guys are the Nate Silver of baseball. And since Silver started as a stat geek in the sports world, the analogy is apt. Important points from the BP guys: they haven’t given up on the Nats this year, they don’t think Harp is as good as Mike Trout (and they think that the O’s Manny Machado, who turned 21 yesterday, will soon be added to that list of phenoms), and most of them are picking the Cardinals and Tigers for the World Series. Candice and I came home and brought out the steamed crabs we’d picked up late in the afternoon for a good old-fashioned Maryland crab feast with Jason and Claire, followed by a trip to Dolci Gelati in Takoma Park to cleanse our palettes.

Today will be for relaxing, catching up, our 5:30 service at St. Albans, and then dinner with Jordi, Andrew, and Claire. But I was reminded once again of how much I enjoy being with our children when – after dropping Jason off for the bus ride back to NYC – Claire and I enjoyed a Starbucks and the ride home talking about life. When the subject dipped into the environment, Claire spoke passionately about why corn-fed cattle made no sense from an environmental, animal rights, or health care perspective and she went into all the reasons to feed cows grass – which they can actually digest without the use of chemicals! I was reminded of the “Grass is Good” sign at our friend Julie’s wonderful Evensong Farm which – when placed next to the bluegrass band featuring Julie’s dad Tom Gray and the late Mike Auldridge, had a terrific double meaning.

Off to a busy four days this week before Candice and I leave on Friday for three days of “Good Grass” at the Red Wing Roots Music Festival near Staunton.

Happy Independence Day holiday everyone!

More to come…

DJB

The Muscle Shoals Groove

Published by DJB

The man in front of us in line said it best. “After several days of watching a documentary or two a day with a heavy or depressing theme, I’m ready for some music.” I knew what he meant.

Saturday evening Andrew, Claire and I had attended an excellent documentary as part of the AFI Docs festival at the American Film Institute Theatre in Silver Spring. Titled Blackfish, it chronicled SeaWorld’s treatment of their killer whales. Here’s the synopsis:

When SeaWorld trainer Dawn Brancheau was mauled to death by a “killer whale,” the tragedy was dismissed as a freak accident. In actuality, it was one of many such violent incidents between well-meaning trainers and wild orcas, the main attractions at marine parks all over the world. Utilizing astounding rare footage and candid interviews, BLACKFISH takes an unflinching look at the disturbing practices that keep such places in business and the corporate-led efforts to protect this highly profitable industry.

It was an important film…but when Candice and I stood in line on Sunday waiting to see Muscle Shoals, we were ready for some music.

And boy, did the film deliver.

We learned of the movie from the producer’s mother. It premiered at Sundance, and was one of the feature films at AFI Docs. From the opening shots of the Tennessee River to the closing chorus of Sweet Home Alabama, this was a two-hour love letter to a place and its music.

Rising out of the Deep South of 1960s America, a sound emerged that began to attract artists as diverse as Otis Redding, Paul Simon, Aretha Franklin and the Rolling Stones. That sound, and the people who helped create it, would go on to leave its mark on music history. The place was Muscle Shoals, Alabama, and this is the story of how it gave birth to some of the most memorable music of our time.

The stories were as rich and wonderful as the music. Rick Hall’s dream that led to the founding of FAME studios. The silence in Aretha Franklin’s first session as the singer and musicians seek common ground…and then Spooner Oldham begins playing the groove that broke the logjam and set the arc of a career. Keith Richards being…Keith Richards, with some great historic footage of the Stones session. Alicia Keys putting a beautiful coda on the film.

One of my favorite moments came when the movie explored Duane Allman’s connection to the Muscle Shoals sound. After camping out in the parking lot until Rick Hall hired him as a staff guitarist, Allman and Wilson Pickett were hanging out at the studio over lunch because taking a black man and a long-haired hippie out in Muscle Shoals in the late 1960s was an invitation for stares and more. So when Hall and the rest of the band returned, they found Allman trying to convince Pickett to cover the recent Beatles tune Hey Jude. Both Pickett and Hall protested, but Allman was persuasive – and then played a solo that led no less an authority than Eric Clapton to say, “I’ve never heard better rock guitar playing on a R&B record. It’s the best.” A commentator in the film said, “This solo is where Duane Allman invented Southern Rock.”

To top it off, Wilson Pickett’s youngest daughter was in the audience, and she stood up at the microphone afterwards to tell the filmmaker that this movie was “pitch perfect” when it came to her father. To me, the whole thing was pitch perfect.

And the good news…it has been picked up for commercial release this September with what promises to be one of the killer soundtracks of all times coming out on Rhino Records.

Be on the lookout…but until then, listen to Wilson and Duane (at about the 2:53 mark) groove to Hey Jude.

More to come…

DJB

A Great Week for Ballparks

Published by DJB

In my bucket-list quest of visiting all 30 major league ball parks, this week didn’t really move the needle…but it was a great week nonetheless.

Two cities and two ballparks. That’s the way I like to travel.

Last Tuesday, I was in Denver wrapping up a set of meetings, and joined some colleagues at Coors Field for a Rockies vs. Nationals game. Yes, my Nats were in town! This was my second visit to Coors Field – which means I didn’t get to check off another park from my list. But while the outcome was disappointing (the Nats lost this game, yet won the series), I did get to catch a wonderful Coors Field sunset over the Rocky Mountains. Few stadiums have better views, and all of us – Nats and Rockies fans alike – marveled in the sunset.

Then on Friday, I was in Boston. Those of you who know the schedule will say, “Hey, weren’t the Red Sox playing the O’s in Baltimore this weekend?” Well, yes. (I am actually catching the last three innings of the Sox and O’s as I type.) But I still made it to Fenway, as we took our board for a private tour of this historic landmark.

Luckily, I had also been to Fenway before (as I only get to count visits where I actually see a game against my list). With that information in hand, I got to enjoy the ride without fretting about whether this could technically count as a ballpark visit on my bucket list.

So I’ve posted a picture of the Coors Field sunset above, and a series of Fenway tour pictures below. We got to see the “Fisk pole” (see the video below) which, since this is Boston, isn’t called the “Bucky #)(%*#&@ Dent” pole. As I emailed a few family members and friends from the “old” seats at Fenway, I was in “baseball heaven.”

Enjoy,

More to come…

DJB

Happy Father’s Day, Tom Brown

Published by DJB

This morning, our Sunday Forum at St. Alban’s Parish involved readings about fathers. I decided on the spot to read a portion of a post I wrote in 2010 on More to Come… on the occasion of what would have been my parents’ 60th anniversary and days before my father’s 85th birthday. The original post was primarily about my father, and it seemed appropriate for Father’s Day.

So here’s what I read in honor of Tom Brown. (And yes, I teared up at the end and was thankful that Andrew and Claire were out in the hallway and weren’t embarrassed by their dad).

My Mom was generally considered to be a saint, and dying at a relatively young age from cancer only cemented that view in all our minds….My father is a bit more complicated…which also makes him very interesting.

Mother once described my father as having a mouth “always turned up in a perpetual smile” but apparently it wasn’t always so. Several years ago Daddy sent us some thoughts he had written while on retreat, which included the following:

“When I was young I had a poor self-image. I was skinny, not athletic, wore glasses and was not really accomplished in any area. I did fairly well in my studies. As a result I compensated for this by criticizing others. This bad attitude was called to my attention in a peculiar way while I was in the Navy. One day a man said to me, ‘Brown, why do you think everybody but you is full of shit?’ He expressed it very well.”

In that same reflection, Daddy noted that identity crises can come at various points in your life. When he retired, he no longer worked as an engineer and was asking “Who Am I?” It was then, he notes, that he came to see that his primary identity was “a child of God.”

Don’t think that because he’s a Christian and Baptist that Daddy is a member of the Christian Right. Nope, he’s a card-carrying member of the Christian Left and has come to be known for his regular letters to the editor in both the Nashville and Murfreesboro papers to set his neighbors straight about Baptist history, the separation of church and state, and the Constitution. This is a man who took out a subscription to Mother Jones when he was in his 70s. When the church he’d been a member of since the 1960s went through some upheavals, he took a two-year sabbatical from First Baptist and went to a black Baptist church, where they “show a little emotion.” He has e-mail pals all over the world and we all receive updates from my father about twice a week with bits of wisdom.

Daddy is a great reader and gifter (if that’s a word) of books. When I was home last weekend, he gave me a copy of Bill of Wrongs: The Executive Branch’s Assault on America’s Fundamental Rights by that late, great unreconstructed Texas liberal Molly Ivins. He’d bought it at the cheap book bin – only to come home and discover he already had two copies! This is the kind of Molly Ivins quote that my dad would find hilarious:

“I am not anti-gun. I’m pro-knife. Consider the merits of the knife. In the first place, you have to catch up with someone in order to stab him. A general substitution of knives for guns would promote physical fitness. We’d turn into a whole nation of great runners. Plus, knives don’t ricochet. And people are seldom killed while cleaning their knives.”

God, I miss Molly Ivins…but I digress.

Daddy and I were having our traditional breakfast at City Cafe in Murfreesboro on Monday morning. We were talking about the fact that their 60th anniversary would have been this week, and then our conversation turned to a cabin in the North Carolina mountains that my sister and her husband own. Daddy said wistfully, “Helen and I always talked about having a little cabin in North Carolina.” I responded that he now had the cabin without the hassles of ownership, and he said quietly, “Yes, but I don’t have Helen.”

85 and still in love with the woman he married…that’s my Dad.

That’s where I ended the reflection this morning, because I couldn’t continue. But the final two paragraphs of my original post are also worth including. So here’s the ending:

As I was leaving Nashville, I commented to some friends via email that there were more guitars per capita in the Nashville airport than in any other airport in the world. Three guitars and their owners passed me just as I was writing the email. My favorite sticker on a guitar case that passed by simply said, “Don’t Postpone Joy.”

It is a sentiment my father would endorse.

Happy Father’s Day, TB. I love you, and look forward to seeing you in a couple of weeks…and a few days before your 88th birthday.

More to come…

DJB

A Gem of a Day

Published by DJB

By just about any measure, it was a pretty wonderful day for a baseball game in the nation’s capital.

Sunday of Memorial Day weekend…the start of summer. (Check.)

Sunny skies with temps in the high sixties/low seventies throughout the afternoon. (Check.)

A huge crowd at the yard. Official attendance of 39,033. (You look for these things when you’re scoring the game.) (Check.)

Wonderful daughter along for the afternoon. (Check!)

As we left home for the metro around noon for the 1:35 first pitch, Claire and I had on appropriate game-day attire. (I think she still finds it amazing that someone who is 20 – her age – can play major league baseball, so I offered up the Harper shirt.)

Strasburg was on the mound, and he was sharp! The Phillies were confused all day. Eight strong innings and nine strikeouts later – with the only blemish being a balk on his next to last pitch allowing a man on third to score – he showed that despite the strange 3-5 W-L record this year, he’s back to pitching like an ace.

And the dormant offense showed some life. Zim started the big seventh inning by legging out an infield hit that ignited the rest of the team. (He later closed out the 7th as they batted around.) LaRoche continued his “steady as she goes” stretch, with a 2-for-4 day and two runs scored. Lombo had a huge double that drove in two runs and he stretched it into a three-bager on one of three Philly errors for the day. Our season tickets section – good ole 313 just below the press box – had our N-A-T-S, Nats! Nats! Nats! Whoo! cheer going for each of the six runs. The Phillies make three errors and only score one run…I said it was a gem of a day!

And after Clip came in for a perfect ninth, the picture that everyone loves – the Nats lining up for the congratulatory hand shakes after the 6-1 win – was all that was left. Even a stupid President’s Race (where Tom fakes off the others so that George can win in a cakewalk) couldn’t ruin a wonderful day in the park.

Perfect weather, the perfect daughter along as a companion, and a series win against the Phillies.

Yep, a gem of a day.

Go Nats!

More to come,

DJB

Maybe I Should Come to the Office More Often

Published by DJB

I recently did the math. In one three month period this spring I am in the office less than one-third of the time. True, I’ve been to some wonderful places, but if my two days in Washington this week are any indication, perhaps I should come to the office more often.

When she was in fourth grade, my daughter told her class that her dad’s job was to “sign papers and go to meetings.” This hasn’t been one of those weeks.

At the National Trust, we’ve been working hard to help Americans understand and protect the full story of our nation’s life together. That work was front and center yesterday and today.

On Wednesday, our great friends at American Express announced a $1 million grant to the National Trust Historic Site Decatur House and our partners at the White House Historical Association. The grant will help ensure that the site’s slave quarters – one of the few remaining urban examples of slave quarters – are preserved and used in the educational work at the site. First Lady Michelle Obama was present for the announcement, and it was great to have her with us to honor this gift and the work it represents.

Then today, newly minted National Trust trustee and seven-time Grammy Award winner Gloria Estefan stopped by our offices to talk with the staff about our work together to save the modernist Miami Marine Stadium. In a 30-minute interview and Q&A with staff, her passion for place – and especially this unique venue and Miami icon – was evident. She spoke of her concerts at the stadium, a recent photo shoot on site to help bring attention to this one-of-a-kind urban landmark, the building’s special resonance with the Latino community given its design by a young Cuban-American architect in the 1960s, and her hopes for its future. My assistant Leigh joined me (photo above) as we had a chance to thank Gloria for her commitment to preservation. Afterwards, I was fortunate to join Gloria, her husband Emelio, her daughter, and the president of the Estefan’s company for lunch with several colleagues. There we talked further about the steps needed to save the stadium and to learn more about the Estefan’s long-time passion for place. For an old bluegrass guy, it was great to get to know the Queen of Latin Pop – and an ardent preservationist.

Let’s see, I’m in the office again tomorrow. Must be a scheduling error. I wonder what it will bring!

More to come…

DJB

A wonderful week exploring European coastal civilizations

Published by DJB

Travel for work often deserves the brickbats thrown its way. But then there are the sublime trips that more than make it all worthwhile.

My travel last week falls in the latter category.

As posted here, here, here, here, and here, Candice and I have been on the road, seeing a variety of special places with friends and supporters of the National Trust through this National Trust Tour of European Coastal Civilizations. But because internet connections were slow-to-nonexistent on the road, I kept the posts short and to the point.

So this is my “bring it all home” post. I’ll give a short update of each stop, and then will post several new photos from that portion of the trip that weren’t included in the original updates.

Our first port was Porto, Portugal, a wonderful city with a historic center that has been designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site. It was a great kick-off, with a strong mix of monumental buildings and streets full of markets like the one at the top of the post. We saw the coffee shop where J.K. Rowling wrote the first chapters of Harry Potter and a beautiful stock exchange building that reflects Portugal’s one-time status as a world power.

The next day we were in Spain, visiting the great pilgrimage site at Santiago de Compostela. Steeples, plazas, and gargoyles filled my camera on this day.

Bilbao’s transformation from gritty ship-building city to international arts destination was a revelation. We knew of the Guggenheim’s impact, but we weren’t ready for the blocks of historic buildings intermingled with the works of multiple modern masters. It was a glorious visit and one that we want to repeat with the entire family.

The next day we moved on to France, and the beautiful island of Belle-Ile. We toured the coasts where Monet painted, and explored the imposing Citadel that dominates the port.

In both Belle-Ile and Guernsey, our next stop, Candice and I loved the clustering of traditional houses which opened up the beautiful farmland and landscape. Our tour focused on the German occupation of the island during WWII, but our attention was drawn to the countryside and thought of how the U.S. – with some notable exceptions – has allowed development to eat up our open space. So I was pleased today when Andrew texted to say he would be working as an intern at the Coalition for Smart Growth this summer. When one sees places such as Belle-Ile and Guernsey, you see how much we’ve lost.

We ended our wonderful week in Normandy. My last post spoke of the emotional nature of any visit to the beaches and the American cemetery, and the depth of the sacrifices made on those fateful days some 69 years ago is still very present and powerful. The countryside of Normandy also speaks to the simple, hardworking lives that were turned upside down throughout the German occupation and the Allied invasion. It is a place one doesn’t soon forget.

David at Omaha Beach commemorative marker

Thanking the Veterans on our tour at Normandy

It was a trip to remember, and we loved every minute as we were reminded how truly blessed we are. Thanks to all who made it possible.

More to come…

DJB

Remembering Their Sacrifice

Published by DJB

The American Cemetery at Normandy

Our last day touring in Europe was the most emotional. If you don’t cry, you may not have a soul.

We saw Normandy, and the place names from the U.S. that will resonate through history: Utah Beach, Omaha Beach.

We walked among row after row of headstones at the American cemetery. Crosses and Star of Davids. Most with names of men who gave the ultimate sacrifice. Some whose names are known only to God.

And it was made all the more personal because of a chance encounter last week. When we were headed out the door to leave on this trip, we saw our 90-year-old next-door neighbor and told him we were going to Europe and would visit Normandy.

“I’ve never been to Normandy,” he said, “but I was flying over it on D-Day, trying to take out a German gun placement.” We can’t wait to show August the photos of the beaches and, yes, the craters that remain from the bombs that fell on that day.

Heroes all — and they even live next door.

I’ll have much more to post in the next few days, but I did want to put up at least two photos of the day before I head to bed.

So, the headstones from the American cemetery above. Omaha beach below. All to remember the ultimate sacrifice.

More to come…

DJB

MORE TO COME…

Encounters, discoveries, and observations from the slow lane of life.

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A wonderful week exploring European coastal civilizations

Remembering Their Sacrifice