Making Some Noise in the Park City

Making Some Noise in the Park City

By Mike Lauterborn

© 2010. All Rights Reserved.

5/28/10

The following is a collection of free-flow vignettes about “Park City Noise 5”, a modest gathering held in Baldwin Plaza Green on Cannon Street in Bridgeport, CT on Thursday, May 28, 2010. This describes the scene and some of the interesting folks I met there.

The setting sun reflects off the stern face of the Federal Courthouse, which stands watch over the Green. Along a side street, the Metric Bar & Restaurant, a Haitian eatery that features a comedy night tonight. Inside, coffee bean colored bartender Eve serves up refreshing libations to Jessie, Jasmine and James, whom I’ve dubbed the O’Jays. Jessie is Jasmine’s boss, doesn’t say much, looks at me sort of suspiciously. Jasmine, from a town near Ponce in Puerto Rico, laughs at my humor but likes her space and keeps a pocketbook on a bar stool between us. James, a soccer fan, is from Stratford and is calming his nerves with Grand Marnier in prep to meet his beau Darline.

On the Green, Sean, an event organizer, struggles to hang between two metal poles a banner that says LEVELution. He’s a performance artist and sells t-shirts with made-up language. We share this fascination for words. I just happen to have weight packs in the car and lend them to him to keep the poles from toppling.

Pasquale, a wiry brown fellow, cycles up on a bike toting a bass.

Keith, THE head organizer, a squat guy with a mission, rolls up and springs into action, running electrical cords, posting flyers on light posts, setting up speakers. I seek his guidance on where to set up my stuff – a sports chair, cooler and Mexican blanket – and he gives me the lowdown. I drop on a spot on the lip of a circular clearing composed of brick and iron pillars, the pillars like a mini Stonehenge, standing like sentinels.

Curious commuters coming off work eye the scene, pass through and hurry off to home and normality.

Jay settles down nearby. He tells a tragic tale and bears a tat on his upper right arm that says it all. But from the dust, he’s emerged, brushed himself off and is sculpting and creating amazing illustrations, with a passion and renewed purpose.

Jay is joined this night by his cousin Nicole, who he calls “Diz” and their friend Kellie. Kellie and I gravitate to each other after it’s learned she’s a writer. I encourage her to grab her journal from her car and she reads aloud a poem to me dedicated to a lifelong friend. We discuss it and then begin to collaborate on writing a piece together, describing the evening.

Pete, an electrician from Lordship, cycles up. His mom works at the courthouse. He wears a Yankee cap like me and says he just quit smoking 15 days ago. He asks about tonight’s event.

In the background, music begins. It’s experimental – the promised NOISE in the event title. I’m not sure it’s what the gathering was longing to hear. Many of the three dozen people that have now settled in cry out for something to dance to. But Keith has dictated the music agenda. There will be no budge.

Sedation becomes the pursuit, in the form of brew, and wine, and Seagrams and other numbing, intoxicating pleasures. And food is broken out and shared – chips, crackers, chicken, rice and beans and even Brie. I cop some grilled meat from my friends Aaron and Veronica, who have brought a small hibachi.

They are joined by Amy Irish, Veronica’s hula hooping partner. The setting has become sort of like a dysfunctional picnic, with the wailing and drone of experimental music, Frisbees whizzing by and even poker games breaking out. We realize the much spoken about “band all the way from France” has taken center court and is jamming. They are know as The Dreams and rooted on by the crowd.

A mad bike parade ensues, with a posse that grows from two bikes to four to eight to sixteen. They circle the courtyard then head off down the street, not to return for what seems like an hour later and then joined by a unique individual with a Joker mask who takes a daring spin around the park like some crazed madman.

A few pets are in attendance, feeling the love and accepting belly scratches as they are offered by adoring fans. I miss the name of the ones I encounter but capture one on film. He’s a happy mutt framed by a field of sprouting clover.

Taking in the scene is Grace, a kinky-haired ball of energy who bops around from blanket to blanket, mugging and smoking. Equally engaged in the proceedings is Shayna and two close friends. Shayna sips Seagrams and tries her hand at hula hooping. To establish a coolness factor, we stage a shot with her drinking a beer while hooping – with the hoop being held by her friend off camera!

There are more hoopers here and they jump into the fray to swivel and gyrate. They are joined by other visual acrobats and even fire twirlers, who strut about and do their thing.

There are even some junior performers – two small boys – one of whom does tricks on a skateboard and leapfrogs the iron pillars and one that rides a small trick bike around. People look on in amazement.

Quite unexpectedly, a team of Red Bull energy drink girls parachutes in and begins handing out samples from can-shaped soft-sided coolers, much to everyone’s delight. “Mixers!” is the cry.

It’s time for Veronica and Amy to do their bit, a performance that caps the night. They hoop and swirl and bend and groove to the electronic drone. It’s been a happy time for all, an escape from the rat chase.

Fun, Sweat & Tears

“Fun, Sweat & Tears” (WILTON VERSION)

By Mike Lauterborn

© 2010. All Rights Reserved.

5/27/10

The Ragnar Relay Series, the nation’s largest, is an overnight running event featuring 12-person teams covering designated legs over a stretch of rural roadways. Named after a fierce 9^th Century Norse conqueror, the series dares runners to challenge themselves and show their wild side.

Racer: Katie Denious, 41, Wilton

Team Name: The Sole Sisters

A part-time decorative painter and married mom of three children, Denious had always been athletic. She grew up as a nationally competitive gymnast, then, when she hurt her back, pursued “every other sport” including lacrosse, skiing and tennis. Denious began running seriously about five years ago and has tackled marathons. “I got the running bug, liked the feeling of being in good shape and wanted to try harder things.” A running partner saw fliers for a Ragnar Relay race with a 190-mile route between New Haven, CT and Boston, MA. “We thought it would be fun to put a team together.” With so many running moms in Wilton, teammates were not in short supply. Three groups of 12 (Katie’s team, the Warrior Chicks and Whine Not Warriors) formed. The Sole Sisters secured two Chevy Suburbans outfitted with colored lights and decals, donned hot pink outfits and assumed 15-20 mile legs per runner. Prep included runs three times a day and night runs with headlamps (“I’m sure people thought I was loony”). Wilton was all abuzz and supportive, particularly the Wilton Sport Shop, which donated gear and lent guidance. The bubbly, excited post-race report: “Nobody slept… won the award for team spirit… a little drama… calf cramps… lots of emotion and tears… champagne celebration.” As important, the race results: 1^st all-female team, 3^rd among mixed and 29^th overall. You go Sisters of Sole!

Ragnar Relay Recruits

“Ragnar Relay Recruits” (LITCHFIELD VERSION)

By Mike Lauterborn

© 2010. All Rights Reserved.

5/27/10

The Ragnar Relay Series, the nation’s largest, is an overnight running event featuring 12-person teams covering designated legs over a stretch of rural roadways. Named after a fierce 9^th Century Norse conqueror, the series dares runners to challenge themselves and show their wild side.

Racer: Paul Laedke, 34, New Milford

Team Name: GUARDIANS of… wait for it… Everything

A middle school teacher and ex-Army National Guardsman, Laedke had been a lifelong participant in occasional 5K’s. Two years ago, a former frat buddy and member of the U.S. Coast Guard got serious about running and got Laedke to join him in regional 5K’s, 10Ks and even half marathons. Learning of the Ragnar series and 178-mile route from Woodstock, NY to Bronx, NY, Laedke tapped his pal to help assemble a team. A notice on base quickly stirred interest -- a team of nine men and three women, ranging in age from mid-20s to early 50s, was formed. “The constant reminders, getting each other pumped, heightened endorphins, a desire to change your lifestyle… all of that helped us stay motivated,” said Laedke pre-race. Race morning, as the team traveled in two Coast Guard-provided vans, the runner said the mood was “amped up, ready to run” and mentioned a campout the previous night on space owned by a CG Chief. They talked about the legs, of which there were 36 with each runner hitting about three and assuming 15-20 miles, and built camaraderie. Post-race, Laedke reported sleeping on a gym floor, a pulled hamstring, muscle spasms, last-minute substitutions, exhaustion and wrong turns, but an absolute feeling of team accomplishment. “We’re already signed up for the Ragnar in D.C. in the fall. The whole group wants to do it!” 

Aus-some Wine and Delectable Dishes

Aus-some Wine and Delectable Dishes

By Mike Lauterborn

© 2010. All Rights Reserved.

5/26/10

Wethersfield, CT – “Water separates the people of the world… but Wine brings them together.” This is the ever-present message at the bottom of Tony Reynolds’ email and certainly an adage that rang true on a recent evening at Carmen Anthony’s Fishhouse on Berlin Turnpike.

Reynolds, a representative of 2Fly Wines, an East Hartford-based importer of Australian wines, was among the handful of gregarious folks hosting a special Wine Dinner at the eatery. The event showcased two of the wineries the importer represents – K1 and Pertaringa – as well as Pertaringa’s Head Winemaker Shane Harris. To the delight of some two-dozen local wine and food enthusiasts in attendance, select wines from these companies were paired with sumptuous foods served by the restaurant.

Many miles had been traveled by the gentlemen at the head table, which included Reynolds from Hackham, South Australia; Michael Wehrs, Pertaringa’s Business Development Manager from Adelaide, South Australia; and Harris from McLaren Vale, South Australia. Joining them were two other gents who had enjoyed a shorter commute – Chris Didden, founder and owner of 2Fly, and Craig Witzke, owner of South Glastonbury’s South Side Wine & Spirit Shoppe, one of the early supporters of Didden’s efforts to establish his importing business in the U.S.

After a brief intro provided by Reynolds, Wehrs spoke about how he met the owners of Pertaringa, a boutique winery that only produces about 20,000 cases annually. The graying, spiky-haired Bavaria-born brand manager said the operation is very “hands-on”, comprised of ten individuals and that it wouldn’t be unusual for him to be seen driving a forklift around in addition to managing his sales duties.

Harris, a young, bearded, stocky guy with a thick Australian accent, was next up on the roster. He described the portfolio of wines as “house” style and that there’s no “chopping and changing” between vintages. A chef by trade, he confessed, “As you can see, I’m not the smallest guy in the room… food is a huge love of mine so wine pairings are very important to me.”

Lord of the Manor Didden, a bespectacled bear of a man with salt-and-pepper hair and goatee, followed Harris, noting that it was the quality of the wines that drew him to the wineries when he first visited Australia several years ago for a family wedding. After learning that the Pertaringa and K1 brands weren’t available in the U.S., he evaluated becoming an importer and ultimately started 2Fly in June 2008.

Didden’s approach to wine is simple: “If I drink the wine and like it, I buy it.” And that’s how he first cottoned on to the wineries. “What you’re drinking is my palette.”

Every year, Didden travels to Australia and spends three weeks there, tasting, discussing, strategizing… and did I mention tasting? “I start at 8 in the a.m., end at 9 p.m. and have a gin and tonic at the end of the night to clean my palette,” he explained with some degree of amusement.

Like the wineries, Didden is equally hands-on. “I get knee deep in crud and mud. I’m purple one day, white another (depending on the grape variety)…  and peppered with bee stings.”

Deciding the gathering had heard enough chatter from its hosts, Reynolds raised a glass of the first wine selection, a 2009 Pertaringa Scarecrow Sauvignon Blanc, and announced, “Cheers! Let’s push the boat out!” The group followed his lead, returned the toast and finished the last slivers of international cheeses, cured meats and dried fruit that had been set out as nibblies.

In an aside, as the dinner officially commenced, Didden explained that “feeling, touching and getting great partners” has been the recipe for his success. However, getting an initial audience here in the U.S. hasn't been easy. About wine retailer Witzke, he chided, “I visited him 14 times. He didn’t want to taste the wines. Then on the 15^th visit, he agreed to go to lunch. An article (about 2Fly) had just appeared in the Glastonbury papers. Craig said he’d missed the boat but quickly jumped on board. He’s been an awesome partner since then.”

To this, Witzke added, “I still get passionate about a great bottle of wine… teary even. I recently saw a sign at a small café near my store: ‘If we don’t enjoy what we do, we’re only living up to a fraction of our potential.’ You need reaffirmation of your passion every once in a while. Chris and I both enjoy that passion.”

As the first course appeared – a hand-rolled organic lasagna finished with a creamy pesto sauce and roasted walnuts -- Harris tapped a glass to signal that “church is in session.” Paired with this food offering was a K1 selection – a 2007 “Gold Label” chardonnay. Harris noted that only 400 cases of the Chardonnay are made annually, and only 72 cases are exported to the U.S., all to 2Fly’s warehouse in East Hartford.

From across the dimly lit, dark wood-trimmed room came the voice of a woman who admired not only Harris -- “He’s from Australia… he’s cute” – but also the wine. “The Chardonnay is very, very good,” gushed Brenda McDonald, an Old Saybrook resident with French Canadian roots and originally from Maine. She strode over to the host table and asked, “Where is your store? Do you ship? I would like to buy a case.”

McDonald had been invited to the event by her friend Sharon Muthig, Carmen Anthony’s CFO. “Sharon knows I love wines. I’ve been all over trying them. This is the best Chardonnay I’ve ever had. Better than any French or American Chardonnay.” Sharon added, “This is the most complex white wine I’ve ever tasted.” These were strong testaments from experienced wine connoisseurs.

Upon the arrival of the main entrée -- a grilled petite filet mignon topped with fresh sliced artichoke hearts and a fresh barramundi fillet encrusted with pistachio breadcrumbs and pan seared – Witze commented on the wine accompaniment. In this case, these included a 2007 K1 Shiraz Viognier for the fish and a 2007 Pertaringa Undercover Shiraz for the meat, both outstanding reds. “This is what Shiraz can taste like… what it should taste like. I think much of the country’s palette has been dumbed down by trendy Australian wines.”

The volume level in the room had noticeably climbed by this point, cheeks were flushed and ties loosened as the entrée and wine was enjoyed. “More for you?” said Wehrs to Reynolds, assuming for the moment the guise of a waiter and offering some Shiraz. “Is the pope Catholic?” joked Reynolds, encouraging the pour.

Not the only joker in the room, Didden, when dark-suited restaurant manager Michael Picard asked him if he was enjoying his dinner, replied, “It sucks. We were looking to throw it away!” At that, Didden popped the last bite of fish in his mouth, a satisfied smile spreading across his broad, tanned face.

Wehrs, married to a “Sheila” back in Adelaide, S.A., mentioned that he was currently on a 10-day North American tour, which began at a wine fest in Vancouver (Pertaringa’s biggest Canadian market); continued on to Calgary, Alberta; tripped through Banff; touched down in New Jersey; and would conclude in Nantucket. The journey was tiring but necessary to “get the brand out there.”

Several well-heeled dinner attendees had asked Didden about the combination of the reds with the entrée, with the fish in particular, so he addressed the issue.

“What do you normally have with surf and turf?” “Vodka!” someone cried out, eliciting titters. Harris stepped up, pulling from his mental encyclopedia to help explain the pairing. He used terms like tannins and skins, described the planting process, soil depth, elevations, sunshine exposure, ripening speed and finish, but most importantly, the Shiraz’ perfect alignment with the fattiness in these foods.

“There’s not a wine I’ve had here that I wouldn’t have on a regular basis. It’s ridiculous,” declared new fan McDonald, who had committed to an additional two cases of wine. Bubbly redhead Kate and her silver fox companion Bob, who had come up from New Haven, agreed, “We’re both into reds and really enjoyed the Undercover Shiraz. The Scarecrow Sauvignon was also nice… drier, with hints of Granny Smith apples. Kate added, “The guided sampling takes the risk out of pairing and allows you to experiment.”

For another table, this was a family outing. The Paretti sisters – Sarah from West Hartford, Teresa from Simsbury and Patty (with her husband Michael) from West Simsbury – were heartily enjoying themselves, and receiving a good wine education at the same time. “From Shane, I learned that the Shiraz complemented the fattiness of foods. And though I’m really a red wine drinker, I would try a Sauvignon Blanc… it was an awakening… delicious!” Sarah agreed, “Crisp…. Delicious.”

The dessert offering was a sampling of different-flavored truffles and served with Pertaringa’s 2007 “Two Gentlemens” Grenache, which exhibited a bright ruby color and fruity flavor that complemented the sweetness of the chocolates. 

As the evening wound down, Harris asked for a show of hands for the group’s favorite brands. McDonald very enthusiastically raised both hands upon mention of the Chardonnay. “Raise your third hand Brenda!” called out Reynolds. She thrust a fan into the air. Then Harris quizzed the group about the vineyard founders and vintages. Answers were amusing including one shout of “Russell Crowe!”

While the gathering may not have retained all the facts, one thing was for sure… they certainly enjoyed the experience. Summing up the wines, Wehrs contributed a final thought, “Our wines are meant to accompany food, not take away from their flavor. They have good structure that works with good food.” Good on ya, mate, well put.

"A Soup-er Time in Shelton!"

“A Soup-er Time in Shelton!”

By Mike Lauterborn

© 2010. All Rights Reserved.

5/18/10

Shelton, CT – Shelton waterfront. Brilliant sun. Blue blue sky. Tasty tunes. Soup. These were just a few of the ingredients in the bubbling Soupstock Arts & Music Festival, a benefit for the Mary A. Schmecker Turtle Shell Fund, held Sunday May 16^th.

As the lead singer of Chicago-like brass band Old School switched glasses to dark shades for a rendition of “Soul Man”, Libby Meissner caught some rays at the corner of the soup tent.

“Looks like you’ve found the perfect angle and sun trajectory,” I commented.

“Perfect day,” she replied.

It was appropriate that Libby was one of nine soup makers here, given her name and its relation to the commercial soup maker of the same name.

As she was summoned to fire up the Sterno pots under her soup vats, I stood by watching her ladle hefty scoops of her secret recipe batch of black bean and chorizo soup.

“That looks like a hot tub of soup. I want to dive right in there!” I said.

She made an “ugh” face, not sure if she agreed, but nonetheless amused.

The crew at the entry to the grounds, a lovely flat, grassy green call The Slab alongside the Housatonic River, was also bubbling with excitement. They were selling t-shirts and hosting a half-mile walk at 10, 12 and 2pm, for which 32 sponsors had signed on to lend support. Funds raised benefit the Ansonia Boys and Girls Club. The benefit to supporters: free admission to the soup tent.

The den mother of the group, “Sooz” DeLeon, wearing a bright blue “Get Your Walk On” t-shirt, said, “We appreciate the walkers participating and all our sponsors. And look at the sun!”

The soup makers were all set to go so I went back and down the line, starting of course with suntanned, pink tank top-wearing Libby.

“You tried the rest, now try the best,” the “soupierre” said spooning out a small plastic cup of goodness to an eager taster. Libby was no rainy day soup aficionado – the soup is a staple on the menu at Crave, the restaurant she owns in Ansonia.

Backpedaling to the first soup station, I continued my tasting tour, hitting lentil with cilantro; lamb stew and turkey chili courtesy of Fairfield’s Chef’s Table; Italiano Tomato Garden soup from Alexis Goulas; a privately submitted BLT soup; Michele Tanner’s turkey chili; and a cream of mushroom.

The tastes blended in my mouth like mountain streams surging into one, my tongue becoming a raft afloat on a sea of soup. At the same time, I felt like I was at a wine tasting and joked about admiring its bouquet.

A soup server picked up on this and said, “ Let it breathe!”

I picked up with John Listro and Frank Gaudiano’s butternut squash concoction, which they had cooked up in association with the CT Burns Care Foundation of Milford. Last but not least: Ingrid Cerone and Dawn Cantafio’s gluten-free triple corn chowder.

With warm insides, I stepped from the soup tent re-entering the sunshine and a now Woodstock-like atmosphere that had evolved. Kids in 70s style outfits hula hooped, kites and balloons hovered in the air, wooden cutouts of tulips and daisies provided décor.

“If you found a baby bird, bring it back to the Kids Tent. The momma sandpiper is screaming her head off,” said an announcer mounting the stage. It was Brian Smith, formerly of WICC and WPLR radio stations and “now living on the streets” as he joked. He introduced Hubinger St., a band led by a cool cat wearing a paper king’s crown. The latter was a craftwork fabricated in the aforementioned Kids Tent.

The smell of sun tan lotion lazily rode a cool breeze as folks spontaneously danced and wiggled in place.

“My mom works for the Boys Club,” said one bystander Flip Video recording the hula hoopers. “I’ve never seen such talent,” said Alison Miner, 23, standing with friend Megan Bromley, also 23. Technically the two were Valley Girls, but reluctant to admit that.

Like Wavy Gravy, along came Ted Olenski from Ansonia, playing his Fest part in a black fedora, gray flowing locks and beard and black t-shirt with an imprint of the Muppet, Animal. He was strolling about with wife Brenda and their friends Lisa from Derby and Nancy from Ansonia. We decided we’d snap a pic with Ted’s truck, which he calls a “Chevy Hybrid” as it had started life as a four-door 1940 Chevy sedan that he morphed into a pickup. A pale green, the vehicle featured an old steamer trunk in the cargo area, which was lined with a checkerboard-like insert.

“I do a lot of crazy metal work. I’ve got another car that goes in water,” Ted said. This truck was certainly unique among the 25 classic cars on display on a grassy flat adjacent to the massive Inline Plastics Corp. factory building facing the Fest site.

Luis, 9, and mom Maria Lopez, 35, from Shelton were checking out the cars, too. Maria’s two other children are members of the Boys and Girls Club, Shelton chapter. Maria was enjoying “tasting soup and food and having fun with my son.”

Lining one side of the Fest grounds were about a dozen arts and crafts vendors, near the car display area. Poking through these tents was a happy trio – Andrew, 22; Andrew’s girlfriend Allyson, 22, five months pregnant with Maleki on board enjoying a “womb with a view”; and Allyson’s best friend Alicia, 22, from Shelton. Alicia was the driving force in their being here: “I called them up. There are some real cool bands and cool stuff.”

Among the “cool stuff” were glass and stone creations by Heidrun Morgan, the middle-aged proprietor. About how she was inspired to pursue this craft, “I went to Vienna, got interested in glass mosaics, decided I wanted to do it as a hobby and it became a business. I love the feel and color of glass and to do jigsaw puzzles, which many of my works are like.” The thick-accented woman from Wiesbaden, Germany was excited by the crowd and fun here.

I walked the line, in and out of the nearest tents showing fine-crafted jewelry and glass mobiles. The mobiles, in particular, caught my eye, on display from Jennifer Harkey, out of Seymour.

“The whole idea of turning something as simple as a bottle into art is cool. And because it’s a form of recycling, people embrace it even more,” Harkey noted.

Right next door, black-haired Stephania, 25, was relaxing at the back of her family’s booth. It displayed handcrafted dream catchers and beadwork, an illustration of the work of her tribe, the Colville Indians based in Tacoma, WA. “I’m actually half Colville. Norwegian, Irish and Czechoslovakian is my other half. My dad’s a mutt! My mom Wanda is 100% Colville.” Stephania lives in Ansonia while her mom’s in Stratford. The ladies and Wanda’s youngest daughter Christine all participate in the craft making.

Stephania selected for me a beautiful red-tinged dream catcher with feathers, which I planned to hang from my car’s rear view mirror, “to guide your travels,” she offered.

Visiting a glass beadwork booth were Robby Hermanns, 21, and girlfriend Sarah Russell, 20, from Bridgeport. When asked how they’d heard about the Fest, Robby explained, “I think I got a Facebook invite, told Sarah about it and we decided to come up. I love live music. They’re throwing down!”

Mike Wood from Shelton, sporting Chuck Taylor Converse high-top sneakers, was camped out next to a stack of a book he wrote titled “Alchemy”, self-published through Amazon. We connected as writers and shared our mutual frustrations and challenges. I was amused by a photo on the back cover of the book of him sitting in a sports chair at a typewriter-bedecked desk, knee-deep in the ocean at a spot off the Milford, CT shore.

As writers need to support writers, I bought a book inside which Mike inscribed “Chase Your Dreams”, apropos as I’d just purchased a dream catcher!

Slovakian Nicole Feltovic, 38, shared the booth. Primarily an artist that works in acrylic and oil, she is also an “Intuitive” aka Psychic, using a charm-based method and Tarot cards for personal readings. I just had to experience this and, after 15 minutes, came away with some interesting insights and even a few confirmations about the direction in which my wacky, restless life was headed.

The Shelton-based artist/intuitive was wearing an unusual, smooth sunstone pendant about which she said, “I wanted to bring in some light to the Fest… and my life in general.” To memorialize our meeting, I bought an 11x14 print of “The Empress”, rich in colors, tones and imagery that focused on Mother Earth as the giver of life.

“Helter Skelter” boomed from the main stage as I dribbled back onto the bib that was the Fest footprint. Pods of people were sprawled on blankets, playing hacky sack, flipping Frisbees, grooving in place and trying to affect a hippie look though many were children of the 90’s.

Many others still were enjoying the food and beverage offerings provided by purveyors like Liquid Lunch serving up cold beverages and hamburgers, Giggles’ kettlecorn and Mamoun’s falafel.

Hula hooping with abandon in the center of it all was Jessie Patrick, 24, from Shelton. She summed up her reasons for being here: “Beautiful day, live music, supporting the Boys and Girls Club. I love Hubinger St. and now Tim Palmieri [of the band Beatles A-Z, who was playing the Beatles tunes].”

Also standing out in the crowd was Starfire, “Queen of the Hop”, a senior citizen shimmying in front of the music stage. Dressed in saddle shoes, bobby socks, a red plaid school skirt and black vest, she tossed her black locks about, a woman fighting time and the elements.

At an ice cream truck on the outskirts were Sofia, 7, and mom Debbie Respeto, 42, recent transplants from Milford to Shelton. “Sofia saw the Fest and dragged me down here,” said Debbie. “We’re loving the face painting, arts and crafts, and Sno-Cones. I jog here at the park,” said the Puerto Rican, Italian, Irish divorcee.

Elsewhere, Tom Hoffman, 25, from Shelton, and pal Reed Padin, 31, summed up the experience as, “Great times, great people.” These most righteous dudes helped me to a cool refreshing Guinness from a cooler they had toted on site.

Bouncing along to the music near the stage enjoying the final moments of the Fest were Haley Ryan, 24, sister Lizzy Ryan, 25, and Lizzy’s daughter Grace, 10 months, all from Springfield, MA. “Grace loves this band The Alternate Routes,” said Lizzy. Added her sis, “We first saw them when Liz was pregnant. We looked on the band’s website to see where they were touring, saw that they were here and decided to come down.”

Sandy Purcell, 37, and daughter Chelsea, 14, from Shelton, were doing hula hoop aerobics. Chelsea, in fact, was trying the activity out for the first time and doing quite well. “It’s pretty cool… fun… I want to buy one of these,” Chelsea remarked. “She needs positive extracurricular stimulation,” said Sandy, spoken like a true mom.

From the hula area, I was recruited by Stamford resident Aaron, 26, to shoot a Frisbee around while his Ecuadorian girlfriend, Veronica, 30, of Greenwich, joined the hula hoop group. “I heard about the event through a friend who was going to work here and on Facebook. I figured it would be a good opp to hoop. This is my first hoop fest. I’m actually the lead in a group of hula / go-go dancers. My stage name is Veronica Vixen and my partner’s name is Dollie Danger. We team up with Aaron’s band the North Shore Troubadours. He goes by the name Aaron Garoovy!”

This was a fun bit of trivia to learn as the Fest was nearing an end. In contrast, the fish were just starting to bite as two fishermen seated in a two-man skiff lazily drifted past on the Housatonic, headed down river. As they passed, a line jerked to. “Fish on!”

A lucky wonderful day for us Fest attendees. Not so lucky for the sea bass that just found itself hooked!

 

A Visit to Steinbeck's Sag Harbor Spread

A Visit to Steinbeck’s Sag Harbor Spread

By Mike Lauterborn

© 2010. All Rights Reserved.

5/12/10

Funny how inspiration strikes. For me, it occurred at a Westport, CT book sale in Spring 2003. I was browsing titles and tripped across “Travels with Charley” by John Steinbeck. The 1960 road trip saga – Steinbeck’s last look at America, with his dog Charley in tow – drove me to purchase a van, stock it with supplies and set off in September 2003 to follow in Steinbeck’s footsteps, using the tattered paperback as my atlas. The journey, through 35 states during 66 days over 17,000 miles of American road, would result in my own book titled “Chasing Charley”, which is on track to be published in 2011.

Sag Harbor Starting Line

It seemed appropriate to begin my adventure at Steinbeck’s property in Sag Harbor. So on a fine Saturday in July 2003, at the invitation of Steinbeck’s sister-in-law, Jean Boone, I set off from my Fairfield, CT home for the eastern Long Island cove-side residence. Jean had inherited the estate when Steinbeck’s widow (Jean’s sister) Elaine passed at age 88 that spring after a long illness. Jean now shared the property’s upkeep with her companion of three decades, Ray Downey.

With a large bottle of red wine and six of beer in hand, I motored to New London and, a little before two, drove up into the mouth of the Mary Ellen, for the 16-mile ferry crossing to Orient Point.

A sign welcomed me to “Long Island’s Wine Country” as I rolled from the ship, headed west along 25 toward Greenport where I would connect with the North Ferry to Shelter Island. The route was lined with vineyards attended by brown-skinned workers, and market stands displaying juicy cherries, fresh-picked flowers and other garden delights. I was sure these sights reminded Steinbeck of his birthplace -- Salinas, California.

The North Ferry was a much smaller vessel than the Mary Ellen, accommodating only 25 cars, and boarding was on a first come first serve basis. I rolled my truck aboard, set the brake, stood at the prow and, when we docked, followed winding 114 south across Shelter Island to the South Ferry for the voyage to Sag Harbor. What I briefly saw of the island was appealing — high hedgerows obscuring shingled homes and tennis courts, and tanned young couples, like one preppy pair in an old Army jeep, jetting about.

The South Ferry crossing was equally brief and soon I was in Sag Harbor. The houses and well-manicured properties in this area were also hedge hidden – privets mostly that Steinbeck would have admired for the privacy they afforded.

  

A lantern-bedecked bridge was the gateway to Sag Harbor Village, which, this day, was mobbed with sightseers. A clerk at a bookstore on the main guided me with directions to the Steinbeck home and, rising from hammocks strung between massive oaks shading the large backyard, Jean and Ray greeted me.

Situated on a horseshoe-shaped cove, the parcel’s main structures included a modest main house, smaller “bunkhouse” where Steinbeck’s two sons had lived, tool-filled “workshop,” small in-ground pool that John had built for Elaine, and pier. Just prior to John taking his cross-country journey, Hurricane Donna laid siege to Long Island and the little cove, submerging the pier under four feet of water and forcing him to emergency secure his 22-foot cabin cruiser, the Fayre Eleyne (named after his wife, of course).

Most remarkable to me was Steinbeck’s small “writing house” -- “Joyous Garde” as he had named it, at the point of the land overlooking the water. John would hole up here to write and read. Books were still perched on a high shelf inside, among them an identical copy to mine of “Travels with Charley.” Small stones that John had set in concrete at the foot of the entry spelled out “AROYNT,” translating to “Be Gone.”

The covefront was so tranquil that you could hear the oars of passing kayaks dip in the water, the rustle of the trees and the occasional ding of a bell that Steinbeck had strung up in an oak.

Ray trotted out a large bottle of Skyy vodka, which we enjoyed on the rocks with Carr’s crackers and Brie, while seated at an awning-sheltered table on a brick patio.

The sun dropped in the sky and bathed us in a pink light, gnats began to make themselves known and Jean kept the stories coming, speaking about Elaine now and how Steinbeck had lovingly remarked that her faults were “precious few.”

Jean also related how John would make things with his hands — whittling and gluing strange contraptions and devices like a mobile made from the skeleton of an old umbrella and bird figurines. She laughed about the holes John would dig in the yard for the purpose of baking locally harvested clams.

Jean mentioned a toast the author would always make when drinking — “Here’s to Ava Gardner.” As the story goes, Ava couldn’t make a meeting with the author and that very night, he met and had drinks at the Pine Inn in Carmel, CA, with Elaine.

I heard about the Steinbeck boys and how “Johnny” had died at the young age of 44 of a pulmonary aneurysm following an operation on a herniated disc and that Tom is writing screenplays and giving lectures in California.

I also learned that Steinbeck suffered from Transient Ischemic Attacks, essentially brain assaults that lasted minutes or hours -- an early sign of his developing arterial sclerosis from which he died at the age of 66 in December 1968.

A tour of the house ensued. In addition to paintings of seaside scenes by the likes of John Morris, collected shells and other bric-a-brac, all about were photos of family and celebrated friends. These included actors John Malkovich and Gary Sinise, with whom Elaine became acquainted. Sinise played Tom Joad in the 1991 TV adaptation of “The Grapes of Wrath” and directed and co-starred in a 1992 film version of “Of Mice and Men,” along with Malkovich.

Many of these photos were contained to and covered almost every inch from floor to ceiling of the “Hall of Fame,” a narrow passage that connected the kitchen and master bedroom. There were even photos in the bathroom, including one of the famous poodle Charley.

When we moved inside to wicker couches in the glass-enclosed porch to escape wee biting beasties, conversation continued — about Steinbeck’s constant interest in the world around him, his retention of everything he read and of Cervantes’ novel “Don Quixote”, which was the author’s own inspiration for his cross-country quest.

As I listened to all the stories, I could feel John’s spirit in the room and became even more committed to fulfilling my voyage. I even imagined John, in khakis and Wellingtons, sitting in his big chair with a snifter of brandy in hand, eager for an update about the America he had once trod.

It was a fascinating and memorable visit to Steinbeck’s humble Sag Harbor haven… and so engaging that I missed the last ferry back to New London and had to make the longer land-based circle home!

For a more detailed overview of Lauterborn’s “Chasing Charley”, go to www.publishersmarketplace.com and key in the book title in the search window. 

Me and My Shadow

Me and My Shadow

By Mike Lauterborn

© 2010. All Rights Reserved.

5/10/10

Fairfield, CT – Mother to three children. Girl Scout leader for 10 years. Girls soccer coach for 2 years. Constant chauffeur. Home camp supervisor. Always unselfishly doing for others. Now it’s her turn and her time and the road is her escape.

When Kathleen Silva Tempini, or simply “Kate”, which is what she prefers to be called, rode up and parked her Honda Shadow across from my lawn-based tag sale on a recent spring day, she turned heads and immediately attracted a gathering. Not only was her gleaming cruiser-style motorcycle a beauty, she was a beauty. At 55, slim and clad in stone-washed jeans, suede Mephisto boots and a fur-collared brown leather jacket, her red-highlighted mane of brown hair tumbled down to her shoulders when she removed her pink helmet and sea green eyes sparkled like the sun glinting off the surface of a Caribbean sea. This wasn’t a casual jaunt on a bike but a “look at me, I’m free” statement, though she would tell you that that was not intentional.

I had to know more about this unique individual as I knew there’d be a story to tell here. She agreed to divulge the details, meeting up with me several days later at a tranquil, marina-adjacent park spot on Fairfield’s oceanfront.

Earliest Inspiration

As we sat at a picnic table under a shady tree, Kate offered that she was born and raised in Monroe, CT, one of four girls in her family, a middle child with an identical twin. Her dad was a professional truck driver, mom was a homemaker.

“I always had the feeling that I could try anything at least once and cross gender boundaries. To that regard, Dad took us all fishing on Sunday mornings and clamming… he had us paint the house, help move furniture, gut and clean fish, take wiggly eels off a hook, horseback ride. So why not try a cheaper version of the horse?”

She started humbly at first. Dad had a “sit-down” lawnmower and Kate “ran it so much that it ran out of oil and cracked the block.” As punishment, her dad made her mow the yard with a push mower the rest of that summer. She had a go-kart, too, with a little motor. Monroe was very rural back in the 50s and 60s when she was growing up there, so there was a lot of room for riding around.

First Bike

Kate’s first bike was a 1972 Honda CT90, purchased used from a woman in 1978, when Kate was 23. This model was a tough, inexpensive and reliable single-cylinder Trail cycle that, notably, the Hondells immortalized in a 1964 song called “Little Honda”, written by Beach Boys leader Brian Wilson. The song referred to the cycle as “a groovy little motorbike.” As Kate explains, “It was popular, and marketed to attract couples… all-purpose.” Indeed, tens of millions were sold since they were introduced in 1959.

She fondly remembers, in particular, the summer of 1980 when, as a student on break from Johnson and Wales University, she took the bike out to Block Island. Its 2-speed torque, small size and easy handling allowed her to ride on the sand and go watercress picking, fishing and beaching… or just cruise in the dunes.

Kate held on to the bike, shipping it from place to place, through married life and children, and still has it in her garage. She had a mechanic service it, got it running again and taught both of her daughters – Laura, 18, a senior at Roger Ludlowe High School, and Holly, 16, a sophomore at the same school – to ride as well as one of her daughter’s boyfriends. “C’mon, Joe. Don’t be a p---sy!”, she said to the lad when he expressed that he was a little afraid of trying it. He overcame his fear and now he’s welcome to just come over and take the bike out at will.

A Re-Awakening

“When my son [Bryan, now 19 and an extreme snowboarder living out in Lake Tahoe, CA], who at the time was a junior in high school, said, ‘You care too much about the family and not about yourself,’ I reinvented myself.” Within a few months, she redid her resume and landed a job as an ultrasound technician with a local fertility practice. The latter related to a degree she had earned as a Registered Diagnostic Medical Sonographer. Kate loves the position – “The first heartbeat… unbelievable… I can’t imagine being any happier or more fulfilled… except when I’m riding.”

After raising three kids over the past 20 years (the last 16 of which have been spent in the Fairfield Beach Area), juggling a full daily schedule as a result of having an absentee husband busy with work commitments, running a day camp (“Camp Tempini”) out of her home, serving as a Girl Scout leader, coaching girls soccer and shuttling her son to paintball competitions and BMX biking facilities, she realized her own sense of self had gotten lost in the mix.

“When Bryan left for college two years ago, I felt somewhat abandoned. I never thought about who I was or what I liked. I unselfishly thought about the kids. I got the old bike running and started riding everywhere, doing errands, etc.” But this was not enough.

“I decided I needed to get a bigger bike… like I wanted to go further, not just around town, and needed something more reliable,” she concluded. “My little bike would crap out when I put the headlight on. I started looking for a small cruiser-style bike.”

Bike II

 “I looked on eBay and found a 250cc Honda Rebel that belonged to a little old man in Pennsylvania. It was pearl white. I’ve always been loyal to brands and wanted another Honda… and I knew local instruction classes were conducted on Honda Rebels, so I figured it would be reliable,” reasoned Kate.

“I rented a truck from Enterprise, motored to this little trailer park in Altoona, PA and paid $3,000 cash to the seller,” she said. And though it was apparent that the man’s health was in decline, “he rode that bike right up the wooden ramp into the truck with a last hurrah!” remembered Kate, an amused grin spreading across her face.

The upgrade meant she would need to get a license, which she described as a “hard” process. “Practicing maneuvers, panic stops and serpentines down at the marina in Fairfield proved to be a great training ground. I obtained my permit and prepared for the test. On test day, I steeled myself and rode rather shakily on 95 down to Norwalk. Believing body language accounts for a lot, I tried to look tough but was terrified. All the riders gathered. Talk about intimidating… I was one woman amongst 21 men. Somewhere in the middle of the group, I was called. My raw fear took over, I stalled the bike, could not repeat any of my previously mastered skills on the course and subsequently failed.”

That could have been the end of it, but Kate returned to the DMV. “One of the nicest employees there returned my paperwork and gave me a huge dose of empathy. She said, ‘Honey, those boys just ate you up alive. You come back in two weeks and try again.’ So, through tears and thoughts of resignation, I rescheduled a repeat test… and passed! The rest is history. Now I feel like Pippi Longstocking flying in the breeze and nearly always sing to myself while riding.” Smiling, she adds, “My daughter did not always like me showing up at Field Hockey practice on my bike, so I keep it low key when I need to. But inside I am on Broadway singing my heart out, riding and steering the bike like a good cutting horse.”

Kate held onto the bike for about a year and a half then sold it to a 19-year-old woman, last fall. “I felt I’d outgrown it, and had begun to entertain the thought of joining a motorcycle group. I knew I would need more than 250cc’s to keep up.”

Out of the Shadows  

“This spring, the weather has been so nice. I got the little Honda out, but just had a yearning for a bigger bike. I knew I wanted another cruiser, another Honda. I went on eBay again and found a Honda Shadow at a Honda dealer in Hicksville, Long Island,” Kate related. Specifically, the bike is a 2007 Honda Shadow VTX Deluxe 600cc, “a stepping stone” Kate says from her last bike and a good fit for her 5’7” build.

About retrieving the bike, she explained, “I drove in my husband’s truck to the dealer, brought the bike back to J and R’s (an auto repair shop on the Post Road in Fairfield) and backed up to the lift.” John and Ronnie (the proprietors) wheeled the bike out (the bike weighs 600 pounds) and supported it as the lift lowered.

“I left my husband’s truck right there, got on the bike and rode it home… no plate, no nothing, I was so excited. I was hooting and hollering (inside) like I was in my own parade!” she gushed, then added, “It’s got a fat-ass back tire, that makes me feel good.”

New Beginnings

A friend recognized the purchase by gifting her a silver “Guardian Bell”, with the engraving “Lady Rider” on it, which now hangs from the front area of her bike. Legend has it that Evil Road Spirits have been latching themselves on to motorcycles for as long as there have been bikes on the road, and are thought to be responsible for mechanical problems and bad luck on a journey. The theory is that, by attaching a small bell onto your bike, the spirits will become trapped inside the bell. There, the constant ringing drives them insane, making them lose their grip and fall to the ground. Apparently the bell is twice as powerful when given by a friend or loved one to the rider, as in Kate’s case.

Kate has also purchased a pink helmet. “I wanted to look like a woman. Once, at Okemo Mountain when I was on a chair lift with a helmet and goggles on, I was mistaken for a man by a ski patrolman who was speaking in a gruff, inappropriate way for mixed company. As I got off the lift, he nudged me and said, ‘Have a good day buddy.’ When I said thanks in my obviously female voice, he became embarrassed and apologized.”

She also plans to buy a windshield and might ride with an iPod. As to clothing, she is “horrified by Harley gear,” favoring equestrian-style riding chaps, her leather jacket and boots with “no square tip”. In cooler weather, she sports a “neck gator”, a fitted neck cuff made of polar fleece patterned with musical notes that relate to her interest in singing Broadway show tunes. “I grew up playing guitar with my sisters and singing whatever my father called upon us to perform… usually ‘The Sound of Music’.”

A Woman in the Wind 

“I was pumping gas recently and someone told me about a women’s motorcycle club that meets in Bethel,” Kate noted. The person was referring to the Nutmeg Chapter of a national organization called “Women in the Wind”. “I looked them up and felt I’d find fellowship, with nobody rushing you. I would like to stop at garage sales and antique shops. Each chapter has its own flavor. I just joined. There are seven or eight women in the group. They are very open, affirming to new members, and accept any age, background and riding ability.” She laughs then, thinking about one fellow member, “She’s a hairstylist and has a purple bike. She’s ultra-feminine.”

“I can call one of them up when I get out of work at noon and say, ‘let’s go riding’. I like the solitude, the smell of the lilacs, that briny smell by the sea.”

This is a woman set loose. “I’m planning my first long-distance ride, to Poughkeepsie (NY), with the group. In mid-July, we’ll go up for the Summer Nationals (a “Women in the Wind” meet to which all U.S. chapters are invited). Then, who knows from there!”

Like a line from the Al Jolson tune “Me and My Shadow”, for Kate, life going forward “is gonna be we-wow-whee for my shadow and me!”