MAY 2000 NEWSLETTER
So, I feel free, refreshed, and
rested. It has nothing to do with our having big chunks of time
at home. Rather, I've stumbled upon an interesting corollary. Given
the following statements, we can reach a conclusion . . .
A = The Writer of Newsletters says nothing controversial
B = No one writes to complain or chastise. C = The Writer of Newsletters
spends his writing time answering questions about haircuts and foot
positions while signing. D = The Writer of Newsletters doesn't expend
all his energies apologizing for having opinions E = The Writer
of Newsletters feels free, refreshed, and rested. THEREFORE . .
.
Since A implies B, and B implies
C, and C implies D, and D implies E, the transitive law allows us
to conclude the following: Since The Writer of Newsletters wishes
to feel free, refreshed, and rested, he can achieve that state by
focusing on A (saying nothing controversial), because we have shown
that A=B=C=D=E.
But leaving geometry aside for a
moment, how about that US Senate race from New York State, eh? Makes
one want to pray in a public school paid for with vouchers obtained
by raising corporate income taxes on children who make Nike sneakers
while taking drugs grown on family farms funded by the South Lebanon
Army and the World Bank, doesn't it? Or, then again, maybe not.
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Speaking of MAY-be, the month
of May passed for LOST AND FOUND, and we had a fine time watching
it do so. Though there wasn't much "official" activity, we
thoroughly enjoyed what there was of it. The May mellowness
began with my writing an opinionless newsletter. After that,
we headed for Moncton. You know, in the Maritime Provinces?
Yeah, THAT Moncton. We went to provide a little music for
some folks from Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, Prince Edward
Island, and Newfoundland (who arrived a half hour early).
Our dear friend Bart Campolo (whom we enjoin to study the
above formula) was there, though the group from Newfoundland
thought he was a half hour late. You might recall from last
month that Pete got us a new banner. Michael and I came up
with a travelling version to take to Canada. As you can see,
it's a little smaller, but hopefully folks get the point.
Since we grew up on the border of Canada in Niagara Falls,
NY (where Al Gore invented toxins), we're used to the phrase
"Canadian at par," and so we took great delight in offering
a special sale on our CD's. Of course, for the folks from
Newfoundland it was "Canadian at par, minus .5%."
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Travel version
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How's
that?
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While we were visiting with
the strong and free people, we visited one of the more popular
tourist attractions in Moncton: Magnetic Hill. Here's the
deal . . . you go and read this sign that seems horrendously
complicated. Then you go to lunch and discuss what it is each
person thinks the sign actually means. After that you go and
play a few songs and/or speak to the folks, slyly attempting
to figure our what you're supposed to do at one of the more
popular tourist attractions in Moncton: Magnetic Hill. The
people you ask tell you exactly what the sign says, so you
go back and try to read it with a French accent. Then you
try to read it a half-hour before you get there, in case it's
a sign from Newfoundland. Then, you just throw caution to
the wind and follow the directions.
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So, you drive to the bottom of the
hill, and so forth. Okay, so you can plainly see that the road dips
down until the pole on the left. And we drove the car there, and
followed the directions. And I'll just go ahead and say it . . .
THE CAR ROLLED BACK UP THE HILL!!! I am so completely serious. Then
we drove back down and Bart tried it. Then we drove back down and
I tried it. Then we got out and rolled stuff around on the pavement.
Sure, I'll admit we're just stupid Americans, but we don't have
anything like that in the U.S. (I think maybe we're too busy building
aircraft carriers, or something.)
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Anyway, as you can imagine,
Moncton rocks; although, technically for those in the know,
Hopewell Rocks! And so, as you can further imagine, we loved
Canada (with just a little bit extra love for Newfoundland).
On the way out of town, we stopped with Bart at a little lobster
memorial where Michael and Bart posed with the old lobster
catcher himself.
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Magnetic hill
Catchers of lobster
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Working hard(ly)
Couple o' house cats
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After our Maritime adventures,
we headed back to our homes for a l-a-r-g-e break. Michael's
parents came to visit him; my parents came to visit me. I
spent some time learning to play the lap dulcimer, a gift
from my father.
Michael spent some time fixing
up his super-groovy home in Los Angeles.
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After the break, I flew west
to meet Michael. We drove on down to San Diego. Then we turned
around and headed to our destination, which my navigating
caused us to pass by twenty miles back. Eventually, we arrived
at a place called the Christian Retreat Center on top of Palomar
Mountain. If that mountain sounds familiar to the pre-Hubble
crowd, that's because every high-school textbook since 1940
has used photos taken from the observatory there. Once we
checked in with the folks from the retreat where we were going
to be playing, we zipped over to the observatory. We arrived
slightly after closing, so we had to put off viewing the actual
machinery until the next day. No matter, though, because we
then went back to the retreat and had a great time playing
for the folks from Community Covenant Church. They were brave
enough to have us as their presenters for the weekend, and
we're deeply honored to have been asked. Michael spent a little
time proving his tennis prowess on the tiny court. The next
day, we went back over to the observatory for some observating.
This time the building was open. The telescope at Palomar
has a 200-inch mirror inside it. Turns out, the mirror in
the telescope is just a bit larger than the floor space in
the gift shop. It was a fun bit of sightseeing for the boys
in the band.
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Quite a pair of domes there!
Is this safe?
Tennis champ!
Well, the 4th one is probably Meatloaf
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Is that you?
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That afternoon and evening were
spent retreating with the folks back at the retreat center.
We were treated to quite an hilarious talent show that night.
I feared that Michael had taken on a bit of radioactivity at
the observatory, since when I looked in his bed the next morning
he was a guitar pick. Turns out, he was in the shower.
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So, then we drove back up to Los
Angeles. I flew home, and Michael flew to the LAFOffice in The Metroplex
(with apologies to those offended by that term) to prepare for the
two brand-new joiners of the LOST AND FOUND team. Their names are
Annie and Troy, and I hope to have the standard-issue bios of them
done up for next month's newsletter, along with Germany and Tennessee.
And "next month" is my cue to myself that it's time to say "so long."
So, so long. For the photos from the two(!) events we played this
month, click on the Photo Phrenzy.
Continue rocking on, and I'll talk
at you next month.
george
Read more of George's monthly newsletters.
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