Salter's Oyster Saloon

It appears this is on Main Street in Greenport and pre-prohibition...probably 1910ish as Mr. Salter's restaurant is in the 1910 phone book.  100 years ago or so will do.

It appears to be something of what we would now call a hard drinking establishment.  Oysters and strong drink. Trouble in River City.  100 years later a martini and a dozen oysters is pretty swanky and expensive - not that they served appletini's much back then.

We think of this coming hard up on New Year's Eve, glad that people are aware that it was a of walking home after a night out and not now where by chance or plan one gets in car and drives. We hope there is more common sense afoot tomorrow night.

We have also been considering that rather nice thought of walking to an evening out rather than just driving and parking. People would see you and you would see them. Say hello, move aside and smile perhaps, faces and glances remembered.  More important it reaffirms a presence and instead of people saying they haven't seen so and so in an age, they could say I saw him just last week coming out of Salter's Saloon.

So New Years at Salters might have been a raucous place but we aren't sure. The big clock would certainly tell you when midnight came but frankly the potential was more likely that Salters was full of solitary men sitting stiff legged and downcast with no real place to go.  We presume the women in their lives or those unattached were far from such a den of iniquity and the New Years of a 100 years ago continues to be a far cry from tomorrow night.

Gas lights, winter cold off the bay blowing up Main St. like a typhoon, brown lights through dirty windows and men bundled against the cold making their way to rooms barren and with no real human warmth.

Such was Salter's 100 years ago tomorrow night.

Makati IP Addresses

This blog is part and parcel of Greenport, NY's website (http://www.greenportvillage.com/) and it pretty much seeks to be that "neutral observer" one reads about but never can find.  As such, we try not to be either vain nor self-deprecating; just stay strictly middle of the road so to speak. When setting out on that course, we decided to admit total ignorance when we found it in our part and observe it for what it is and was.

The website receives a substantial number of visitors from the Philippines, almost as many as Canada and that catches our attention as almost all of our visitors from the Philippines have an "IP" in the Manila suburb of Makati, a city of roughly half a million souls. Now our ignorance and provincialism as Ben Franklin once said "springs forth fully growed".

One of our readers wrote to us from the Makati "IP"  address and we fairly assume that he is responsible to some extent for spreading the word about this blog and the village website.  When he wrote, he identified himself as having spent summers here in Greenport and retired to a suburb some distance from Manila - a good drive away - and our minds, void of any knowledge whatsoever, immediately assumed things.  We thought that this was a case of one rural area simply exploring another rural area - one set of country bumpkins gazing at another across about 8500 air miles.  Our ignorance rested in our (mis-)conception of the Philippines and Makati specifically and it really showed up here.

So what brought all this up?  We were reading back through our blog to an early post about Plum Island and the Spanish-American War (http://greenportvillage.blogspot.com/2011/12/over-edge-of-earth.html)  and that brought us to the Philippines and our "war" with them that came under our sphere as a result.  So what history we have of that Island Nation is a result - for many in our generation - of school books that still looked at it as a colonial "republic", which is was until after WWII.  As such, we had some blurred conception of the place - something between a National Geographic documentary and Douglas MacArthur vowing to return.

When Makati started turning up in our Google Analytics we knew that some of the hits were a result of the above mentioned former summer resident and we had visions of his surrounding area that were clearly erroneous and here we were in this idyllic seaside village to which they "must be looking at in wonderment and awe".  We apologize for our ignorance.

To be clear, Makati is a "big cheese" town in Asia, the financial capital of the 13th most populated country on the planet, highly cosmopolitan and decidedly "some pumpkins".  Tim Tebow, the NFL whiz, was born there by the way.  He wasn't born here - he was born there - to parents who were on religious mission in the 1980s. Hmmm let's see. Let's do missionary work in this Philippines version of Wall Street. But we are a neutral blog and won't go there - rampant colonial stereotyping and all that.

We do invite our Makati IP address readers to keep in contact and drop us a line now and then.  Just don't poke fun at our colonial mindsets and we promise to think some before we reach any more conclusions.

Chums and Buddies

We had an interesting visit on Christmas from a family and friends who we have either known for 30 years or just met and known for 30 years.

Two of the females went back as chums for - well - a far piece and clearly have stuck by one another like glue. Good hearts tend to do that.

School brought them together and it got us all to talking about persons who are our oldest friends or generally who we have known the longest.  It is a fair topic for the season as Hanukkah and Christmas are all about tradition and intermixed into traditions are the friends one shares them with.
We concluded that school was just a circumstance, like a pup-tent in the backyard, an alley to play kick the can, or in the case of some recent granddaughter visits, a corner area off the front room where they could play with the new dolls and generally imagine who knows what.  What we concluded that it wasn't the friend so much as the event and we remember people by what links them to our memory.

One at the table, while growing up, had a "friend" of sorts named Lee - met some 60 years ago - and he lived 2 doors down the block. He turned up on a social network site and to our mutual amazement, remembered each other only by name or location. We remembered his house, is front room, his back yard and a high fence that kept errant basketballs out from the "hoop" in the alley. All crystal clear. All of it. We  couldn't  remember for the life of us what he looked like, what he liked - nothing but we remember the place. We could draw it.

It occurred to all that friends are just another chain link fence. The gaps between the links are "the rest" and the twists that make up the mesh are times and places - up to the point when you replace places with real "friend" associations. All the rest is air.

We noted that the links were powerfully strong and that coincided with our vision of memory, chums and buddies.  At that we concluded and after a long day of really wonderful links, we retired for the evening.

Tides...

We know right where this is and have walked along here any number of times.  We particularly like it now that the sun is low at 4pm, the water generally still and the sand giving us a hint as to the last of the tides.

The small amount of debris that washes up at this time of year should cause us to think about the season we are in (Advent for Christians - Hanukkah for Jews and the many others - if we try and name them all we will leave out one and that's not good).

At the start of winter, with short days and very very long cold nights, we get all "worked up" about the distant spring - nearly three full months away, as we know there is a bleak mid-winter ahead, snow and ice, and all kinds of physical misery. 

It would be something of a mistake to think this way and it is no coincidence that "northern hemisphere" religions grew up with a central aspect being this season of birth - a premature spring if you will.  For Christians, the winter of hope is over in a couple days. Hanukkah and the re dedication of the Temple. All rebirth.

Tides bring in what is adrift and they leave a nice mark so we  know where they are, have been and might be in the future.  We know that come spring the debris gets a lot thicker with all the stuff come to life.  This, however,  now - right now - is our tide.  Mark it well.

What gives? No snow for Christmas??

Say it isn't so. 

We have been keeping track of things weatherwise and aside from a flurry perhaps between now and Sunday, our chances are deemed to be slight.

As some of the other local blogs have run this game as a substitute for a white Christmas, it will have to do.  Play it here.

Listen to the Bingster. Put another log on the fire.

Over the edge of the earth

We have a reader - in fact a few dedicated readers who lives half a day from Manila in the Philippines.  He has obviously interested others in his area as our website (greenportvillage.com) records their visits and they read long and hard - this blog as well and it is appreciated.

The primary person there spent summers sometime back 4 decades here in our Village and indeed has been back to visit us.not only in person but through his reading.  Now we are visiting him as there has been a great typhoon there in the Philippines to his south with terrible damage and sadly, many many dead.

One of our fathers fought there in the second world war and was in Manila and was later asked by Gulf Oil to transfer there in the 1950s and almost went. It would have been his bridge too far and on that note, we stumbled upon a very interesting website to answer the question "how far is it?".  http://www.distancefromto.net/ told us and drew us a map as well.

As Greenport is a seafaring village (in history anyway), the idea of far away and far away in the South Pacific (whaling perhaps) brings us to sailing or traveling over the edge of the earth.  It seems odd that to get to Manila from here one heads almost over the north pole.  It seems to add to the distance when indeed it is the most direct route.....over the edge of the world. The northwest passage seems now more reasonable.

Actually, the most direct route to our friend in the Philippines is through writing.  He doesn't seem so far away from here as a map would imply but rather just over the edge of the keyboard..just over the asdfghjkl;.

We hope he and his friends are well and are surviving in the aftermath of one terrific blow...just over there...just over the edge of the earth.

Chance Reflections

We are pretty sure you figured out that the light in window on the 2nd floor of the building next to the Village Tree might come from the street light down the block..or at least we think so but things are deceptive in the night and reflections are one of them.

It would make sense if the images weren't so desperate - one bone clear, the other a puffball - so one's first impression might be clouded a bit by the obvious solution, the one which may be far from correct.

Mirrors and panes of glass have a lot in common - both being sheets of glass obviously.  When we judge character in others or simple give another person or situation a good long look we are looking through that window pane.  When we look at others as a way of looking at ourselves, then we are gazing in a mirror.  The building window, the one in the picture with the bright light, is acting as a mirror of sorts and has presented us with an illusion based on some perhaps faulty assumption.  Before this analogy gets completely out of hand, let's just take a minute and when we judge others we are judging ourselves.

Enchantment under the Tree

It is a pretty cold night even with the wind dying down some.  We were prompted to start a fire, make some espresso and just enjoy the indoors...even the cat, who makes a run for outside at first stirring, decided this was not a fit middle-night for man nor beast nor feline.  Well that was banal enough writing, but fires in the fireplace with a grey dawn pending, the room to ourselves and music does that to you - well does it to us.  We are often surprised that composers wanted silence around them as we think it is very difficult to work or thing great things without some background - not that we think great things - but unless we are incredibly into something difficult that takes every synapse - well some background makes us think more interesting things.

This little bonbon (down at the bottom) went by on the Internet radio just a bit ago and we was struck by what it is we hear other than the natural sounds and what others say or cause to happen.  Classical music - and hearing a piece, an unusual one - is an almost lifetime event; there being so much of it and only so many listening hours in the day.  It seems that last fall  (Sept. 7, 2010 in fact) someone must have heard this piece.  It is the Magical Snuff Box by the Russian composer Anatoli Liadov.  It is a miniature - and think about those Russian artists who write the Lord's Prayer on the side of a grain of rice. 

We all had those snowflake in a bottle things growing up - you know - the winter scene and you shook up this liquid filled container and it looked like snow inside. We had one for the longest time that had a little battery light in the log cabin and when you shook it and hit the switch light came out the windows and shown on the snow falling and the trees glued to the base. We can remember it clear as a bell and smell the cold in a Michigan winter night and hear my bedroom radiator click-clink as it cooled;  listening to WBCM when it switched over to classical music after 11p instead of simply going off the air.  The moonlight always is bright-on in these remembrances and I, depending on the music played, thought it out about the little cabin in my snowbubble thing - Geppetto probably lived there or some wood carver in the Black Forest - someone alone, practicing a craft where things were actually made and maybe sold but mostly made for the pure enjoyment of staying up late and doing something you could admire in the morning.

This little bonbon snuff box is like that snowball glass thing perhaps.  If my granddaughters lived 100+ years ago and had it they would have dreamed so many dreams and put themselves in the scene within - whirling to the music in a brightly lit salon, talking good talk and laughing innocent laughs.

We should be showing grand kids the snuffbox every tonight.  It doesn't move or whirl of clink-clank.  We are going to, instead, ask them to open the door to it and go inside while the music plays.  They will be too young to really be part of the party but will find a place, perhaps peeking out from behind the drapes or crawling under the sofa in the corner, and watching as the others swooped and swayed in the light, the music playing, the sounds of laughing and light talk; the smiles radiant.

For kids it is a time of making a spot in the world; the real one or the one that has much more in it, is never silent, and always finds something the leads to something more.

Things that go blink in the night

In the early evening our paths cross in a number of ways and everyone, signs included seeming to be crossing, from the light figures bound up by the "library this way" sign to our cars shooting on by down the street.  Even the little ped x'ing sign seems to be waiting for someone to show up.

Our attention is drawn to the Village Holiday tree, all decked in blue lighting and on the other side of the street, a rather wobbly set of street lights who have never heard of a straight line.  We have yellows, and reds, bright white and blue. Even the big rock seems to bask in it.

What fun it is to walk the village at early evening.  People have gone home only to come back out later. Traffic is nearly gone and the streets are pretty much wide open.  Our guess is that it is this time that the lights most enjoy as those of us moving around can see them in uninterrupted glory.  We aren't dodging cars  or cars dodging other cars...just we and thee.  It is as if we have this show to ourselves.

Signs

Our Fire Department has a new sign.  It appeared the other day as if dropped from space and frankly gives a little modernity to the Village for save some little blinky illuminated signs on the outskirts, there just aren't any.

This must have looked like some black magic if it had appeared a while back in our village history. We are pretty sure the early settlers would have come across it with the same curiosity, fear and awe that the ape men did in 2001 A Space Odyssey when they ran smack into the obelisk.  In taking a little tour today, we think that this sign is the only one in town that gives the time and temperature readable at a distance.

There is a bit of a howl in the Village regarding this sign. It was apparently donated but that somehow doesn't register - as in what part of donation isn't understood - but for better or worse there it is, and we know the time and temperature with a little holiday greeting tossed in to boot.  There is of course a neon sign ordinance floating around and some have assigned this sign "neon" status. We want to rush out and buy a copy of the periodic table but what would be the sense in that.  Just good money after bad.

We have a memory of a sign sitting at the far end of a downtown street when I was growing up. It replaced the clock or was added to the clock at the old Peoples National Bank building in Bay City. It seemed to always be snowing this time of year and a clock face was out of the question and the little thermometer that hung outside Twentieth Century Cleaners on Main Street was out of the way and we always thought it was colder than it register or hotter depending on the season. It was a reassurance driving into town during a heavy snow to see that bank sign emerge from the flakes - a beacon as sure as the lighthouses that surround us. 

There seems to be something uplifting about all this and in a year it will be hard to imagine the Village won't find it a centerpiece - a crown jewel of the new age.

Crowds will gather -  no doubt about it.

Moonlight

We had a terrific storm last night when a cold front came through.  Some of us happened to be out this evening when the sun went down and things had calmed down a bit. It is pretty cold and just a little past the "comfortable brisk" stage so we hussled back inside, found a fireplace and a hot dinner.

We did notice the full moon in the east - rising from the direction of Orient and darting some with the last of the clouds. It is the last one this year, this full moon. Take one peek before calling it a night.

We put Mr. Moon's picture up just in case you don't want to venture out but just a word to the wise, its real and its fabulous.

Toys

This is the second Sunday in Advent and generally a prelude to the holiday season to come.

We are just pointing that out because - well because - we were at a store this morning and outside wasn't the Salvation Army but a food truck asking for cans of food for those in need.  We see this all time and like everything familiar, we tend to just let it slide off our of sight.

We think about a couple things now, in this season, regardless of religion or not, social values or not, politics or not.  We think about kids.  Obviously we all think about kids. We should never stop thinking about them.
We have two weeks to go through Advent. During this time we are going through all the holiday periods, the end of the year, and most importantly "have and have nots".   If you are a have, then give to a have not. It is pretty simple. 

In the next week or two, just judge your position.  If you have a toy to give, then give it. If you have something to regive or regift, then do it.  There is simple no reason whatsoever for doing something so simple that might mean a lot to some who has so little.

This blog isn't to right the world or the universe or the block on which you live.  It does have a mission just to say things, simply, and just to bring things to your attention as the need should arise.

Arabesque

An arabesque is a pattern on tapestry for instance that is intricate and interwoven.  Here is one perhaps seminal expression of the pattern and reading about it some this morning I found out that it s a. an Islamic form or from that heritage and there is a "western" form of it that probably is more Moorish and turned up in the Mediterranean costal European societes; Spain, south France, Italy which is even more intricate.

 

While we are thinking of the holidays, and dance - swirls and twirls..well we couldn't resist coming to this.

Debussy, the French composer, wrote a couple pieces called Arabesques in about 1888. We know this because some among us was something of a Debussy studier- a  dissertation area - and his early works, this one below for instance, appealed to us and still does to this day.  Debussy was from  a region in France that had this Moorish influence and he was also taken by Spain and all things Spanish - including of course these so it is no wonderment that he would evoke and invoke a tapestry.

Enjoy.

Gradus ad Parnassum

We have a friend who came here as a youngster and has now moved literally halfway across the world from our Village. He has come back on occasion and graced us with a picture of his wife climbing these 67 steps.

Now that winter is approaching and the north wind off the Sound will be howling, it may be a good thing to venture out to these steps before they get too icy and just take a look.

Finding them is half the trick but if you go north out of the Village on Main Street and follow some of those roads that run north off the highway, we venture you will find the top. It is up to you to climb down and then totally up to you to make your way back.