tight shot

tight shot, originally uploaded by Broussardish.

We were visiting colleges in the Midwest (go figure) with Biz and at Carleton in Northfield, MN, we got to hang out with a couple of students we know. Famous Concord High drummer Pete Jones showed us a couple of places not on the student tour, like a stone labyrinth on a little island and a cool Japanese garden where we took this photo. Later on, we had Indian food with Hillary Adams, the lovely former stage manager of numerous Concord High plays (including Les Mis), at a little restaurant called the Kurry Kabab in a strip mall. This also, in a way, was a step outside the official tour, since the admissions guy, at the end of his presentation, mentioned this great Indian restaurant right down town that was supposed to be the best in the Minneapolis region. Hillary said that every tour gets that spiel and that there must be some kind of kick back because the Kurry Kabab is better. The Kabab was great and there was enough left over for us to send a large fragrant doggie bag back to Hillary's dorm. Both Carleton and Cornell College in central Iowa were pretty wonderful. The trip was pleasant although we spent a lot of it driving or cramped into airplanes.

The Brotherlode

BillCloseUp, originally uploaded by Broussardish.

My dear brother Billy (probably Bill to his friends, but I knew him when) just sent me a link to his Photobucket site where he has dozens of old family photos, including this one that my brother John took of him with Dad's old original Polaroid SX70. Billy looks to be maybe 11 or 12? That would make this photo from about 1969? Looking at old photos reminds me of an experience I had in a small airplane taking aerial photos. Looking down on a busy area from that perspective you realize how close together everything is. On the ground, having to drive around with limited visibility, you think of the time to get from point A to B as some kind of objective distance when often point B is just separated from point B by a couple of one way streets and single city block. This analogy probably makes little sense unless you've been up in a plane, but it's my blog, so I'm permitted to ramble. What I'm saying is that, from the perspective of my present age, having raised three kids to college age, I sometimes wonder how when we were kids ourselves, we packed so many changes into such a shot span of time. Anyway, Billy's gift of these photos will be something I'll spend a long time unwrapping. I'm hoping that all the Broussards will start opening up their individual troves of photo gold and share them via online means.

Squash Delight

squash delight recipe, originally uploaded by Broussardish.

Ernesto commented on my post in which I mentioned an old family recipe that we finally revived on Thanksgiving this year. I think the formula should be visible in this photo of a cross stitching that Jemi did decades ago. It's a pretty simple recipe, but it was my mother's and grandmother's favorite way to eat squash. It's probably a Southern-style recipe, but it went over pretty well with the N.H. family when I recreated it. I substituted yogurt for the mayo, since mayonnaise has never appealed to me. (This aversion is due to some kind of childhood event. It's not clear but one of my earliest memories is of tasting a sandwich and coming to the conclusion that mayonnaise has a disgusting flavor. That opinion had grown less emphatic over the years, but I still avoid it.) The classic squash delight has water chestnuts in it, but I may try pecans when I make it for Christmas.

Farewell Dan Fogelberg

It's a bit late for a eulogy, but it's not often I read the morning paper, notice some famous person has died, and actually feel a personal loss. When I learned that Dan Fogelberg had died of prostate cancer at age 56 on Dec. 16, I actually let out a groan of sympathy. My daughter overheard and asked what was wrong. I told her and, naturally, she didn't know who he was.

He hasn't been much of a presence in recent years, and he was never a superstar, though he had a handful of "soft rock" hits like "Leader of the Band" and "The Power of Gold." I haven't really thought much about him and I had no idea he was sick. I also didn't realize that he was barely a year older than I. Coincidentally, just a few weeks ago, I was goofing with my old record player and I put on Fogelberg's "Netherlands" album. It's one of those albums that constituted a soundtrack to a period of my life. We used to keep it on rotation on The Farm stereo when that rural enclave was a social nexus to our strange extended family and to an orbiting collection of friends. The album has held up well as a heartbreakingly beautiful and passionate rock symphony. Dan was a musician who could play highly melodic and sentimental music and retain an artistic credibility. Even my old friend Stuart Murphy, a music industry insider who had a pretty critical ear, always liked him.

After The Farm began to disintegrate and my family split up, I found myself living in Baton Rouge with my dad. I'd been doing odd jobs, mostly printing, and I had even tried working in the Gulf as a galley hand on a drilling rig, but it's safe to say I was floundering. I'd settled on a job at a Kroger grocery store, stocking shelves at night, just when Fogelberg's New Years Eve opus "Same Old Lang Syne" was getting some airplay.

The lyrics tell the story of a chance encounter between the musician and an old flame in a supermarket. He's become famous. She's married with kids. They share a beer in the parking lot. She leaves. He stands there alone in the snow with only his thoughts.

During those long winter nights the song would play on the store's sound system in the wee hours and always took me to some place lonely and sad, but I could never resist the trip. I'd find myself looking forward to it each night. The haunting coda, "and the snow turned into rain" was my reminder that you can connect with the past, briefly, but you can't go back. That was pretty poignant for me in those "cusp" years between The Farm and the Sideshow Pizzeria and old long-time girlfriend Pam on the one hand and the totally alien future on the other.

Thanksgiving Reunion

Thanksgiving Day Family Shot 2, originally uploaded by Broussardish.

Weird to think we're already having an event that qualifies as an immediate family reunion, but when Daniel and Eleanor came home from their respective colleges for Thanksgiving, that's what it was. We had a great meal and, as we tend to do, we also celebrated Daniel's and Grandpa's birthdays (21! and 75!) since they both actually fall in the next week. In a fit of inspiration, I decided to make an old family recipe for something called Squash Delight. It was Grandmother's favorite vegetable recipe, and since she was practically a vegetarian, that was saying a lot. Mom used to make it as well, and it was one of the few dishes I'd ever eat that has mayo in it. In my version I substituted plain low fat yogurt. It was a hit with just about everyone who tried it (Jemi has a problem with green peppers, but she was polite). If anyone reads this and would like the recipe, leave a reply and I'll post it.

Rick Makes a Splash

Rick Makes a Splash, originally uploaded by Broussardish.

I was invited to make one of the first splashes on a Pollock-esque painting, a community participation art project at Holman Stadium in Nashua. This is the first of 17 coats of splatter that will go on the 8 by 48-foot "canvas." It was fun. Artist Ken Gidge, who oversaw the process, said I had a knack for the format.

Open Secrets

The title of this post is half of the title of an amazing book by one of the tutors at my son's school: St. John's College. I've been dipping into it more and more often lately. The complete title is Open Secrets/Inward Prospects and the author is a sweet-faced, gray-haired woman named Eva Brann. I picked up a copy on the advice of someone while visiting the school. It's not a linear book, more like a book of quotes all by the same person. You can dip in anywhere and find something fascinating. Since she is relatively old and teaches the young, a lot of the book deals with issues of age, generational disparities, what has been gained or lost over time for individuals and for the world. Her language is embued with the style and richness of the classical literature that is the DNA of St. John's.

Here's one quote, picked randomly:

"What are the young deprived of; nearby green groves with a hidden observant Pan, open churches with their heirarchy of pomp, stifling cities and their heavy neighborhood-auras, brooding pasts with beautiful archetypes, stern courts with dangerous power, the elegant malevolences of smart strong teachers. What they get is prosperous freedom. Does it have a savor?"

or

"Surely flagellating the imagination with hallucinogenics is a huge admission of its failure."

or

"The bully conservatives know as little about conservation as the officous liberals know about liberty or the ranting radicals know about roots."

None of these by itself does the book justice. The effect of reading it, the gestalt, if that word applies here, is that of being submerged in a vast mind with an excellent librarian who stands ready to show you the spine of every great book you've always wanted to read -- and not the paperback editions: the original printings with etched plates, stiff bindings and pages uncut, awaiting your investigation.

I understand she was recently named a national treasure by someone in the Bush administration.

I still remember seeing her at St. John's, surrounded by students and their parents. To say she had a saintlike glow might be extreme and a projection, but she was serene. I went to get the book from elsewhere to have her sign it and she had disappeared.

Now that I'm familiar with the book, I realize how redundant it would be to have her adorn it with her autograph.