Many happy returns:)

Pardon any typos, since I started writing this in my car while waiting for Eleanor to meet me before we went  out last night. We have  tickets to the four-author series of literary readings at Buffalo's famed Kleinhans Music Hall. Since we were running late, I found myself wondering if literary readings have opening acts. Maybe a nice spelling bee or something.  Didn't matter; we got there just as Mohsin Hamid was taking  the podium:



He's a Booker Prize winning author of four novels, a Harvard Law graduate,  and apparently the father of a dinosaur. He  spoke mostly on his latest work Exit West and reminded us all that we are all migrants, and mongrels, and people before and above all.

But that's the latest and greatest. Much else has happened here since my last post. For one, the stupid cat came home. Just like that, she sashayed into the garage after a 12-day vacay, thinner but otherwise without a scratch on her.  She seems a bit less annoying,  and perhaps, dare I even say it?, grateful for the service around this establishment.  That was Sunday afternoon, when I was at the time midpoint and furthest distance in my remarkable journey of just over 36 hours.

I followed through on my plan to go to the last Mets game of the year on Sunday afternoon, the night after they bid a fond farewell to their long time team captain. I didn’t attend that event, instead opting for my fourth time seeing a friend in concert that night. I’ve been gradually following Lucy Kaplansky down the Thruway over the past decade. First in Buffalo, then Syracuse, next just south of Albany, and this time in the Hudson Valley in a cool old city named Beacon. The venue was an amazing old-school place with a wall of history of great performers who been there before. I started taking photos of the photos that basically made up our record collection, as I walked into the hall where the concert would be held:



Former October Project-or Mary Fahl, who we will see in  Geneseo in a few weeks. And some other Band;)



Assorted  Maniacs, who we will see (minus Natalie) at a Vote Blue fundraiser this Saturday night in Jamestown.



More, and more, and Maura.  Clearly, a special place; and  somebody else  thinks so, too.  As I was taking those, I was approached by a guy carrying a fairly large Nikon camera, with deelyboppers on it.  He asked what I was photographing, and I explained our collection connections to that wall. He then said he was doing a documentary about this venue-an almost  half century of  good music on the Hudson and still going  strong.  The deelyboppers  were for the audio.

The opener was a local folker named Christopher Brown, who sings and plays well and tells a great tale.  Then, round 9, Lucy took the stage:



For close to two hours, she shared songs and stories- mainly from and about her just-released and self-produced album Everyday Street, available only at shows or at her website. That title comes from a song she wrote to Janie, her first-ever dog who she's totally smitten with. There are also songs to Molly her daughter, to her old friend Shawn Colvin, and a very touching one to Philip Seymour Hoffman, who she knew. She was funny and perfectionist with her music and incredibly generous with everybody who stopped at the table afterward, buying merch or not. The fotogs (another one taking  stills) shot  the whole show, and I'm dying to find out when and how I'll  be able to see it.

I stayed up in that area and was back at my hotel by midnight. The trains, and the Mets, awaited in the morning.

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Why anybody drives over bridges and  steaming ashphalt, when they can let a professional take  you sooner and  for less money, is beyond me.   My first sight of Holy Ground from the 7 train, just over two hours after leaving Beacon:



Almost three full seasons before this day, I got to attend my first ever Mets opening day, thanks to Kevin and Sharon Chapman. I missed the tailgate and all the pregame festivities, thanks to the city DOT and the Wilpons’ incompetence at handling a large crowd. The Mets won, as they always do for their opener.  This time was my first ever Mets closing day. Ticketing was my own, and this time the MTA got me there in time to tailgate with the Chapmans:


 

The difference between doing shots at Mets vs Bills tailgates:

- No diving into card tables;

- Nobody’s on fire.

We then headed in to our separate seats, me not far from the 7 Line  Army I "met"  up with in Toronto:



Thor, the day's starter, warming up in the outfield:



He would go on to pitch a complete game shutout as the Mets won, 1-0. I amscrayed around  Seventh Inning Stretch to get home to the Prodigal Cat a  little sooner (Eleanor reported her return during  the tailgate), was back to Beacon close to  sunset-



-and made it home in a record-time straight shot by 1 Monday morning.

The dog was happy  to see me. The cat didn't even budge.

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Rest of this week so far has been okay with minor annoyances. Finding out a client is a fugitive from the US Marshals. Lots of rain and a dog who insists on being walked in it.  My replacement keyboard STILL  not being in. The whole Kavanaugh Clusterfuck.  But with memories like  all  of these, it's  a lot  more bearable:)