Redress of Grievances

“There’s madness in my city, “ wrote my son Indiana in an email three days ago, as he followed the incredible news detailing the occupation of Wall Street and the recent eviction at Zuccotti Park.  The Occupy Wall Street campaign is very far from him and Indy has followed the story from the other side of the globe, India.  The movement has inspired him, and he is itching to join.  “Mind reeling, heavy with thought, ideas, criticisms, declarations… a manifesto. “

          Concerning these 99 Percenters… I’ve been reading more and more over the past few days, and grow increasingly upset over the fact that I’m missing all of this. Bah. I’m there in spirit.  I’ve got my will and freedom songs ready, come December.                                                                   Indiana, Nepal via email.

Keeping him up to date is his girlfriend Ina.  She has been part of the demonstrations, as have many of his friends.  By Indy’s account, the personal stories they send him are all things beautiful, hilarious, inspiring and seriously frightening.

          Let me tell u… Saturday I go to Times Sq to show my support, and its packed the fuck out, just like New Years It’s a mix of crusty squatter protestors from the financial district, people in suits, graduation gowns, tourists….. And the cops… and they are rolling deep, and pretty damn pissed off… But not as pissed off as ‘us’ WE THE PEOPLE, the 99%. We chant, “Whose Streets? Our Streets!!!” Eventually we drop the Whose Streets and the mob chants louder and louder OUR STREETS OUR STREETS OUR STREETS. The sidewalks are getting crowded the barricades start to get knocked over, it’s getting serious, 15 cops and horses gallop up, towering over the protestors tearing down the barricades. Somebody grabs a cops’ hat and the police charge tearing their own barricade down, the protestors surge.  I sit on top of the pedestrian traffic light in disbelief with a peace sign up.                                                                         WIsh u were here bruther.                                              Preston, NYC via email.

Dissent is strong in this generation, as is sacrifice and commitment, and a willingness to uphold everyone’s rights, even as you lose your own.  So it’s not surprising that I find myself sitting in a stuffy courtroom where the wheels of justice move as slow as molasses.

Ina has been arrested.

1:50:02 AM Received on Nov 18, 2011                                                                          Mom did Ina come to dad’s birthday today? I haven’t heard from her, and neither have her sisters.                                                      Indy, New Delhi via Text

The plan:  Occupy Wall Street protesters attempt to shut down the New York Stock Exchange as part of a series of actions to mark the movement’s 2 month anniversary.  A “People’s Bell” would ring out instead and would kick off a series of actions culminating in a rally in Foley Square and a march over the Brooklyn Bridge.  There were 252 people arrested, Ina among them.   Defiant, rebellious, daring — petite, gentle Ina.

Resisting arrest.  Disorderly conduct.

1:18:41 PM Received on Nov 18, 2011                                                                   Madness. Absolute madness. It’s nearly midnight here. My mind is stuck.

I have been in the courtroom for hours, since it opened at 9:00AM, waiting.  Time moves slowly.  Drags.  People come and go, a few protesters are led in, they plea and move on, high fives and fist pumps.  They are old hands at this.

Received on Nov 18, 2011                                                                                                    This fucking sucks. I just want to complain, but it’ll do no justice. Have they said anything about her cell, or conditions? I’m sure she was locked up in a group pen?  Camaraderie, safety, etc?  Do ya know?  Are all protesters getting processed, or are they random cases?  Man… Was she mistreated?  Did they sing and carry on in jail?

The whole day has passed, and we’re now in Night Court.  Homeless people appear before the judge, drug dealers, a thief.  It’s hard to hear, depressing.  Then, without fanfare, amid the din of nonsensical conversations, shuffled paper, a ringing phone, Ina is led thru a door in the back of the courtroom, cuffed.  She has been in custody for 33 hours and hesitates when she enters, getting her bearings.

                           Sent on Nov 18, 2011 (Mom via Text)                                                                              I don’t think she will be protesting too much after this experience.”

Received on Nov 18, 2011                                                                                                       Oh please, you think any of you can stop her? We talked about the stock exchange before she left, and I didn’t think it was a good idea…  She wouldn’t even listen to me on this issue, and I’m the voice of reason. She may not be allowed from the house for a while, but protesting she will do.

She looks small, our Ina.  Lost.

Eyes scanning the room, she startles when she sees me.  Emotions fly thru her features.  Shock.  Surprise.  Embarrassment.  Uncertainty.  The officers are kind, they lead her out to the audience area, and there’s a hush, now, a quiet.  And Ina cries without making a sound.  I whisper that she needs to be strong.  Her family is here.   She needs to be strong for them, for they are falling to pieces.

Be strong.

                  6:46:03 PM Sent on Nov 18, 2011                                                                      Ina is out

7:19:53 PM Received on Nov 18, 2011                                                                         Phone died. I dozed off. Did she cry? Was she proud? Or regretful, or both?

Be proud.

But still, she cries.  On hard unforgiving benches, her family also weeps, hiding behind their hands.  Silently.  It is hard to understand how we got to this moment.  It is hard to watch.  People lower their heads, and avert their eyes.  Her sisters speak in hushed, clipped sentences to the devastated parents, and raise their hands high when the lawyer mentions that Ina has strong family ties.  A loving family.

And it’s over.  It is past 7:30pm.  The day is done.

10:21:19 PM Received on Nov 18, 2011                                                                            She loves you mom.  She’s very sad.  Very very.                                                                I don’t know what to say.

What is there to say when dreams are dashed, spirits crushed?                                       When “health and safety” trumps the first amendment?

What do we tell our children when we want them to persevere?  To continue to stand up for their beliefs when the power and might of Justice, all 250 pounds of it, pulls you by the back of your jacket and throws you onto the street?                                                    When you haven’t eaten in 24 hours?                                                                                    When you’re scared?                                                                                                                 When you’ve seen your mom and dad cry in court?

When saying, “be strong” seems weak and “be proud” unattainable?

There is a photo of Ina as she’s being arrested.  She is kneeling on the street, next to a barricade, an officer by her, over her, his gun prominent.  I’ve been told she looks sad, scared and deeply disappointed.  That might be true, but I want to see defiance.  After all, she was there in the first place.  Standing up for others when they lacked the courage to speak out.                                                                                                                                       And I hope she will stand again.                                                                                              Stand she must.                                                                                                                              For it is not quiet, this right of people to peaceably assemble.                                                It is not convenient, courteous or respectful.                                                                               It is a demand.                                                                                                                                    A call.  A push and shove.                                                                                                                 A struggle.

Stand, we must.                                                                                                                   Together.                                                                                                                                         We are the 99%

“FALL RISK”

Labor Day weekend – the symbolic end of summer. A time for beaches, barbecues, fireworks and perhaps one last jog on the Asbury Park Boardwalk before falling back to the monotonous ups and downs of real life.

After a glorious Saturday filled with chicken, burgers, tequila and fun, Sunday dawned sunny and clear – with a cool bite in the air – perfect weather for a “head clearing” jog on the Boardwalk, or so thought Marian – who left in high spirits and returned bandaged and limping while accompanied by one of Ocean Grove’s lifeguards after a nasty fall on their uneven boardwalk. With a quick and surprised “What?!” – we gathered our wits, keys and Marian who, with a nice hug from Indy, maneuvered her gashed knee into the van for our first trip to the emergency room in Jersey.

It’s amazing actually, that it took us this long to make it to the emergency room. Oh the fun we’ve been missing.

The Jersey Shore Medical Center (“Explore our hospital through our interactive slideshow!”) – is an amazing (and wondrous) place and let us tell you, nothing, NOTHING like the emergency rooms in NYC. It’s a great facility, with a very nice staff, fantastic technicians, a serious and silent scribe and a doctor who was not only caring, knowledgeable and capable, but had a great sense of humor – helping to make our stay wonderfully entertaining.

Now, yes… Marian was in pain – her knee was hurt, remember? (Poor baby). But who said that a visit to the ER must be all about the injury? The injured? The pain? If one puts the pain aside, it becomes a great learning experience, and dare we say it? A photo-op! And so it was and is… with fantastic phone camera technology at our fingertips, we can now explore Marian’s hospital visit through our very own interactive slide show.

Don’t worry – if you’re squeamish, you need not avert your eyes. You need not be chicken – like Geoff, who left the room every time a needle showed up – as none of the photos are gory. Relive with us the best moments of the day.

Here is Marian’s knee at various parts of the hospital. In the waiting room (which sported a beautiful fish tank), at admissions, in the examining room (where Marian received a bright yellow wrist band that read “FALL RISK” adding, I believe, a little insult to her injury).

Now you can compare the hurt knee to the not hurt one. (Interactive!)

At about this time we started the “Guess how many stitches Marian will get” betting going. We did feel bad that we couldn’t include the rest of the family in on this, as we didn’t want to worry anyone needlessly. Those who participated, via text messaging, guessed the following: Geoff (way off) with 4 stitches, Marian and Ina with 8, Indy with 12, Texas with 13 and Duke with 14. I also guessed she would get 12 stitches, to match Eli (Manning’s) stitches. How many stitches do you think she’ll get? You should guess now … the answer will appear later (no peeking!)

Here we spy Marian exchanging texts with her brother, who without knowing, helped keep Marian’s mind occupied by asking her about people he was with.

Ah, now we get to the fun stuff as Geoff hides behind the curtain. Cleaning the knee (really painful), numbing the knee (imagine being at the dentist, though that didn’t help Marian as she (apparently) has perfect teeth and has never experienced the amazing thing that is a Novocaine injection), and finally, the stitching.

Right about this time Duke sent us (a very caring) text “How are we looking on stitch counts?” The doc was about half way done with 6 stitches… in the end if you guessed 10 stitches, you guessed right. Ina and Marian won the poll, having come closest without going over. No prize for Ina (sorry), but Marian got to take her stitches home.

All in all, not a bad way to spend 2 hours – if you have to go to the hospital, may all your injuries be this easy to treat. Marian was a trooper – we hope she enjoyed her stay, at least a little bit. I must admit, we all laughed a lot while she was there, and after all, isn’t laughter the best medicine? Yes, yes it is… I’ve since read up on the subject and laughter relaxes the whole body, boosts the immune system and triggers the release of endorphins.

When laughter needs a boost, Milagro is there with its’ healing powers. After 3 (or more) shots of this wonderful tequila one’s ready to forget and forgive just about all injuries.

So, once we drop Marian off at the house, we take a starving Texas to Chipotle to get everyone burritos, and stop at the liquor store for a restoring bottle of Milagro. On our way back, as we round the corner to our house, we see a young man coaxing a hurt bird off the street. He had gotten out of his car to help a hurt seagull, pushing it carefully onto the sidewalk.

Dropping Texas off with the food, we’re joined on the corner by Indy and Ina, as we watch the hurt bird squawk angrily at anyone who goes near. Indy (“don’t be scared!”) carefully throws a yellow towel over the bird and wraps it up as we race off (rather slowly what with all the traffic and traffic lights) to the Garden State Veterinary Specialists, dropping the injured bird in their good hands. Another successful rescue mission for the Hoover team.

Yes… Our weekend started softly with a low-key backyard family gathering and ended with a bang featuring a trip to the emergency room, a downed Seagull and shots of Milagro. We hope yours was as adventurous as ours, though not as painful as Marian’s.

All you need is love (la,lala,la,la).

The Barn

Throwing a Hootenanny party is super easy.

All you need is love (la,lala,la,la).

Ha!  So not true.  Love goes a long way, don’t get me wrong, but one also needs perseverance, imagination, funding, a jeep, patience, muscle, Home Depot, talent and LOADS OF HELP (and in our case, one also needs three sons).

One does not need squirrels.  Squirrels will eat all the new yellow perennials — selected with such care and placed just right all over the yard.  Yes, said squirrels will mock you as they make meals out of your new Black-Eyed Susans and Sunflowers.  They will snip the flowers (neatly) right off their stalks, sit on the wooden benches, and have their happy meals, discarding yellow petals all over the ground.  The squirrels will reject all other flowers, the purples or white ones, going so far as to push over their flowerpots in disdain, and they will mock.

Anyhow… squirrels aside, once all the work is done, and one’s basking in the after-party-glow, sharing the “kudos” and “jolly well dones” with those who made it possible is a pleasure we shall indulge in right now.  The Hoover Hootenanny would not have been possible – and indeed, would have been a dismal failure — if not for the following people – who are, undeniably and unquestionably the BEST people on the planet.

Well… the dilemma now is where to start… hmmm, ‘cause one could start by thanking the “Head and Shoulders Above the Rest” women (as just so happens):

Marian, who was the first to say “lets have a party” and then went on to co-produce the entire event (with such flair) from top to bottom.  Marian, who along with Geoff, planned the entire affair.  She shopped, made lists, forgot lists, and carted/schlepped stuff between NYC and NJ and locally as well (multi-talented, she is).  Marian kept the entire night going – we’re looking forward to the next Hoover/Porges collaboration.  Marian Rocks!

Regina, who cooked enough (oh so delicious!) pulled pork sandwiches (with homemade coleslaw!!) to feed an army.  (50 pounds of meat people!) Who brought her beautiful daughters, took video and photos – AND posted them online.  Regina now has a lifetime open invitation to any and all Hoover parties.

Angela (AKA Grandma Angela, Mae), who started the minute she got off the plane from Florida, and did EVERYTHING — including helping to push enormous amounts of food off onto satiated guests (please, have some fruit!) and then shook her bootie on stage.

Or one could thank the “Above and Beyond” people (men included, this time):

Joe, who flew in from Seattle, Washington, bringing with him so much talent and joy!  Geoff’s longtime friend, we were so excited that he would join us from such a far away (and exotic) place, however, Joe reached “above and beyond status” when he fixed the broken handle on the upstairs toilet by installing a new one.  Without being asked.  Never mind everything else – the singing, the song writing, the happy reminiscing – the toilet thing, as far as party standards goes… HUGE!

Jean, (yup, Marian’s Mom, yay!! First time at an official Hoover event!!), who brought desserts AND also extra chairs and table.  Good chairs too… soft.

Maverick, of Mavy Entertainment, videotaped and photographed it all and we were lucky to be able to get him.  He’s a super great kid and talented to boot!

Charles, who has already reached Hoover family member status, man of all trades, helped set up the instruments and anything else that needed to get done.  Turns out, Charles is also a great Foosball player… who knew?

The Next Door Neighbors – Chuck and Nancy – who brought veggie platters AND also were kind enough to bring over extra chairs from their house.

And lets not leave out Priscilla and Claudia for taking great photographs and Anna Lou for supplying plates and flatware or forget (though who could ever forget him…) Robbie, who also supplied the party with extra chairs and table – but gets special recognition (always) for being so awesome.

We’ll continue with the “Over and Above” special people and places:

Nina and Bands on a Budget – thanks to them we had great “merch” as they call it ;) – an awesome banner and great t-shirts.

Frank’s Deli – we can’t leave Franks out – Frank’s SUBS are out of this world – they make me drool just thinking about them.  If you were lucky enough to actually eat one of Frank’s subs, you know what I’m talking about.  They bake their own bread and the #4 sub WOW!  Granted 20 of Frank’s subs turned out to be a massive amount of food, enough to feed over 100 people, but oh… SO GOOD!!!

Then there was Michael and Novelty Lights, Inc for the great outdoor lights and, of course all the great people at Home Depot in Neptune.  One cannot have a Hootenanny without Home Depot.  Over a long week of set up, we visited there daily – sometimes twice a day and once (we’re not ashamed to say) we were there three times.  In one day.  Three.

We can (almost) finish with the “Over Board” person – and that would be Geoff.  Wayyyy over board – did you see the posters?  Geoff.  Each a real piece of art.  The banner design… Geoff.  The T-shirt design… Geoff.  The fire pit… Geoff.  The El Jefe’s Loco Limonada (all 5 gallons of it)… Geoff.  Of course, I do take credit for saying things like, “Do you think it’s crazy, or can we make a poster for each performer?” The execution – all Geoff.  AND, he cleaned the bathrooms.  Again – by party standards, one of the most important things.

And… as I said in the (long ago) beginning – in our case we cannot have any sort of a party, let alone a Hootenanny, without our three sons Texas, Duke and Indiana.  They are, by far, the best sons — not only on the planet, but also in the Universe (sorry, all you people out there who think you have the best sons – you don’t).

Duke (The Duke) was phenomenal – including during the set-up week, when he spent days going up and down a very tall ladder hanging lights and taking down fallen tree limbs while, at the same time, moving into a new apt.  We were disappointed that we only got to hear Duke play the bass a few times during the Hootenanny, and not with his band Viva Mayday.  Those “other” Mayday boys will have to work very hard in order to make up for not showing up.

Texas (Tejas) is the life of any party, and really, nothing more needs to be said (see “A Snippit of Texas Charm” by Regina on YouTube).  As an aside, Tex is also invaluable as a resource should you need to make vast quantities of malted alcoholic beverage disappear.   He was priceless, as we had over 300 servings of beer.

Last, but not least, if Indiana had not been around, the Hootenanny would have been shorter certainly, but also flawed and incomplete.  “Indy’s so freaking talented he was a one man Booker T and The MGs,” according to Geoff.   He played in, among others… Vinyl Junkie, The Dungaree Dogs, The Noise, sang, rapped, performed with the beautiful Ina AND he had his own band The 1933 to lead.

Needless to say, there will be another Hootenanny, the date of which shall be established depending, first and foremost, on Indy’s availability.

Thanks to all who attended — who made the trek out to Asbury Park, who enjoyed our Boardwalk, beaches, hotels and restaurants – who brought energy, force and good Karma.

To everyone who performed … a special blog just for you will come along in a few days… for now, thanks for sharing your incredible talents.

Thanks for sharing the love.

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Hoover Hootenanny

hoot·en·an·ny
n. pl. hoot·en·an·nies
1. An informal performance by folk singers, typically with participation by the audience.
2. Informal An unidentified or unidentifiable gadget.

Hoo·ver hoot·en·an·ny
n. pl. hoo·ver hoot·en·an·nies
A backyard party where
a. Too much food and WAY too much drink will be available
b. Old friends reunite – new friendships are forged
c. Sons and Daughters will be embarrassed to see their parents dance
d. There might be a magician
e. Most important — Musical performances will dazzle, astound and                             stun the gathered crowd

Since The 1933 Summer Tour ended and boys’ adventure came to an end, I couldn’t decide if I was going to keep the blog going, or let it drift off, lonely and neglected, into the Internet Ether. Really, how interesting is our existence that others should spend their precious time reading about it? How entertaining can I possibly be? Not very, according to my children – so why bother?

Then, just the other day, Duke turned 21. Such a momentous event in his life, and for days I thought about writing. I looked back thru baby books, and rediscovered baby Duke’s favorite song (“Love Shack”), first gift (2 Mets T-shirts from Grandpa George “We want to start him off on the right foot.”), first word (juice) and remembered how he laughed in his sleep.

I waxed eloquently (at least in my head) about moments in time – how I knew exactly what I was doing at 9:38AM of that fateful day — how fast time flies — and how wonderful a son Duke is. I thought of how important the day was to him, and said to myself, write it down… but didn’t.

And now, the Hoover Hootenanny is just around the corner, and you KNOW there will be stories to share about it. Amazing tales to tell! I say, let’s document the shenanigans.

So… we’ll keep this going – at least for a while.
For the important stuff – and the (hilarious) nonsense.
Trust me, I’ll know when to stop.

Not long ago, Krypto, one of our dogs, chased and ate a fly. It was pretty funny, and I said to myself, write it down…

Awesome

The 1933 performing at The Tipsy Teapot
One Night Only – July 14, 2010

Asbury Park, NJ to Greenville, NC and back:
Total Distance:                        1014.6 miles (1632.8km)
Total Estimated Time:            17 hrs. 5 mins.

Worth every mile and every minute spent on the road.
They were awesome!

Greenville, home of East Carolina University and the ECU Pirates, and once listed as the Tenth Largest City in North Carolina – could use a little pick me up.   Taking over the small stage at the Tipsy Teapot late last night, The 1933 did just that by performing a spirited concert to an enthusiastic and appreciative crowd – bringing their unique style and honest Americana music to a sleepy corner of the world.
They were awesome!

There’s no question that the band deserves a proper and informative concert/performance review, I am, however, inept at the concert review craft – unable to recall basic information, such as a set list, nor am I comfortable in “music speak” and bound to say something idiotic (“… though rough around the edges, The 1933 recalls early Springsteen…”).

Here’s what I did notice — with a lot of coaching from Texas who helped me remember most (but not all) of these details.  Yes… cheating, I know.  Next time I’ll take notes.

• The 1933 performed after two local talents; Maci, a young barefooted woman with a sweet voice and melancholy songs, and Leon who had an interesting set, filled with interestingly feisty songs.  (One about a rabid raccoon.)
• They opened with Take Me Past.
• Indy broke a guitar string during the first song, and played barefoot from the second song on… in honor of Maci.  His voice is strong, twangy and powerfully moving.
• Texas’ accordion playing (while always exceptional) during Riverside Waltz was, well… magnificent.
• Charles never ceases to amaze as he trades one instrument for another – Mandolin, Banjo, Guitar, Harp – making each pop and sizzle.
• By the time they sang Rain Don’t Fall On Me, the crowd was clapping and singing along.  Following the band’s lead, they also stomped and pounded on the wooden floor – sending the beat throbbing thru the large space, reverberating from the ceilings and walls.
• It was pretty awesome.

Here’s what was exceptional.
About halfway thru, Indy left the stage to sit by the audience – Texas and Charles followed and what had been a performance became much more intimate and personal.  The change was palpable.  The audience transformed from observers to friends, circle ling the band becoming one with the group, drawn in by their music and lyrics – joining in their laughter.
The Salvation Song, coming last, was truly extraordinary as all voices united, soared, sending shivers down the spine.

It’s easy for moms to be proud of their children.
To think that everything they do is golden and oh so special.
It’s another thing to sit in the dark and witness transformations.
It’s awe-inspiring.

All alone on the Moon

As if my trip to see The 1933 is not excitement enough for one post… check this out:

Geoff’s CD Vinyl Junkie was reviewed!! Yay!! Take the time to read Leicester Bangs’ review (some English guy that, well, reviews music). I won’t give it away since the review is a fun read… but lets just say that my favorite song on the CD, “Squeeze Box,” gets high praise.

And while you’re off perusing cyber space, please support Laura O’Shea’s bid to win a book publishing contest. She’s the sister-in-law of our good friend Ann O’Shea (whose son Brian went to pre-school with Indy – AND who remain friends to this day!!) and Laura is one of three finalists in the first round of this contest. Please take the time to click on the Networlding website and vote for her proposal. It’s very easy, just scroll down to the bottom of the page and type “VOTE: Laura O’Shea” in the blog comment space (add a comment, if you wish), and then type in your name and email address (which are kept confidential) and then send it.

It’s great to have so many things to share :)

Now, off to see The 1933 – taking the Jeep on a journey to catch them at The Tipsy Teapot in North Carolina.

There’s a great Bugs Bunny cartoon, one of the classics, where Bugs, lured by a carrot on a stick, finds himself trapped in a spaceship that blasts off and takes him to the moon. Once there, Bugs walks about a bit, freaking out and yelling – “I’m alone on the moon!” Yikes! Panic! Fear! … and then realizes, much to his delight – “Hey, I’m alone on the moon,” and peacefully sets off to explore.

Travelling alone, without the boys or Geoff, makes me think of Bugs and his panic – with the slam of the Jeep door, and the fluttery feeling of something not quite right under the breastbone and the sudden realization that … Yikes, I’m alone in the car! Followed shortly by Heeeyy, look at this. I’m ALONE in the car :)

Not that it’s much different than travelling with Geoff, who sleeps most of the time when on the road – or the boys, who are blissfully quiet as we travel. We’re not much of a chatty family when it comes to car rides.

Of course, then there’s all the stuff you gotta do alone – load and unload, buy ice, pump gas, deal with the squeaky Styrofoam ice chest — the squeaking resembling a wild group of mice chattering and complaining away on the passenger side. When the mice get too loud, they get moved to the back of the Jeep where their cries can’t be heard, but where they plot revenge by causing the cooler to slowly leak and soak the small bag containing all my clothes. Ah… Revenge is sweet.

Once you get to your first stop there’s the waiting alone for 30 minutes to check in ‘cause the girl behind the desk (who is 12 and has a heavy Dutch accent) is alone and dealing with too many issues, including no hot water, a disappeared custodial crew and no ink in her printer. When she asks me to sign the registration form and says “We’re almost out of ink, sorry” I look at the blank paper she hands me and feel nothing but pity for her as she faces the next 8 or so people waiting behind me. I tell her she should call someone to help and she leans in and whispers back, with big eyes, “There’s no one to call.” She’s alone on her moon, poor thing.

I’m in Richmond, Virginia, more than halfway to the gig. It rained like crazy on the way down, but cleared up in the late afternoon making a stop at the Chancellorsville Battlefield (“Where Uncommon Valor Was Commonplace”) quite pleasant and informative. There are some very knowledgeable and enthusiastic rangers, lots of fields and cannons, and nerdy (sorry) tourists roaming around chatting about troop locations and bullet fragments. I did find it fascinating that one of the regulations of the park states that “Possession or use of any kind of weapon is generally prohibited.” Hmmm, generally.

Here are some photos, should you like to peruse them.

“Cheers and love y’all”

Waiting for actual visual proof that the tour is real and happening? Wait no more!

Thanks to Phil Bildner and Ana Galan who were in attendance, we now have photos of The 1933 at their performance in New Orleans at The Neutral Ground. In an email, Phil tells us they had a great time, and that Indy, Texas and Charles “rocked the joint.” (Click on each photo to see it larger.)

Photo credit: Phil Bildner

Photo credit: Phil Bildner

Photo credit: Phil Bildner

Shortly after receiving the photos, we received this text from Indy:
“600 miles today. New Orleans to Tampa. Great show last night. Lets talk tomorrow. We want to see gandma (Angela) and (uncle) Alex in Florida. Cheers and love y’all.”