I pretty much dropped out of FaceBook a couple of years ago. I found it a monumental waste of time and cause for mental agitation. But this morning, I woke up with the idea for a meme that I would post on FB if I were still active on it. So I present it to you here. If you're still on FaceBook, or some other social media, feel free to copy it and spread it around..

We're supposed to be the good guys. It's time we started acting like one.

I think I'd like to print up a tee shirt with it. If anyone has had a good experience with a company that does that, please email me to let me know. If anyone would want one, please do the same.

My sweetie Jenny and I don't see each other nearly as much as we would like since she moved back to Vermont to take care of her aging parents in '03.They have since passed, and she's now ensconced in the house and culture in which she grew up. She has too many ties up there, and I have too many ties down here in New Jersey for either of us to move. So we relish any opportunity to get together. One such opportunity presented itself last Sunday. We both had events scheduled in New York City on June 21st, so we decided to make a day of it. We also invited mutual friends Kris and John Lamb to join us. Kris was unavailable, but John was game. The logistics turned out to be a mare's nest, but that became part of the experience.

When Jenny lived in New Jersey, she was part of a remarkable choral group called the Renaissance Street Singers. Founded in 1973 by John Hetland, the group picks a suitable location on the sidewalks and parks of New York City on Sundays, and presents a free concert of acapella polyphonic choral music from the late 15th to the early 17th century. The repertoire consists of motets, Psalms, Magnificats, mass sections, hymns, and other sacred music. Over the years, the group has numbered anywhere from half a dozen singers to maybe 15 or 20. Since moving to Vermont, Jenny had kept in touch with John Hetland, and learned that they would be presenting a concert on June 21st, the Summer Solstice, and was thinking of coming down and reconnecting with them for the occasion.

For the past 10 years or so, I have been attending song sessions in NYC organized by a group called Exceedingly Good Song Night. This is an equally remarkable gathering of people who like group singing. It is led by singer/actor Ken Schatz, who organizes the sessions one Sunday a month. Over the years, they have bounced around a number of venues, but have settled recently at Jalopy Theatre in Red Hook, Brooklyn. The gathering can number anywhere from 15 to 40 singers of all ages, races, genders, and abilities. The session runs from 6:00 PM to 11:00, during which Ken will call on those who wish to lead a song. The repertoire depends upon the person leading the song, but the primary goal is to present a song that invites others to join in. The song can be one that's familiar to the gathering, ore one with a chorus that is easily picked up on the fly. The repertoire is about 50% traditional and 90%+ acapella. (There are usually no more than 2 or 3 instruments in the room.)

Our first hurdle was getting everyone in the excursion to the same place at the same time. Jenny was driving down from Vermont. John was coming from a morning rehearsal in Short Hills, NJ. I was coming from home in Boonton. We were all aiming to arrive at the spot on Christopher Street in Greenwich Village where the Street Singers were to perform at 2:30. So this was the plan:

Jenny would get up real early, and drive from Vermont down to park near the Jalopy Theatre in Brooklyn, where Exceedingly Good Song Night (henceforth, "ESGN") is held. (Parking is surprisingly easy there on a Sunday. The following day, Alternate-Side-of-the-Street-Parking is in effect, and there are always empty spots available on the street.) From there, she would take public transport to Christopher Street in Manhattan in time for the 2:30 concert .

I would meet John at the Short Hills train station, leave our cars in the station lot, and take the commuter train into Penn Station in NYC. From there we would take the subway down to the Village, and walk to Christopher Street.

After the concert, we'd find someplace to eat, and then take public transit back down to Brooklyn to Jalopy Theatre, and ESGN by the 6:00 start time.

After the singing session, we would all take Jenny's car back to the Short Hills train station, whence we would each take our own vehicles back to where we would spend the night.

As I said, the logistics were daunting. For John and me the first stage went fine. We even had time to stop off at the Metropolitan Transit Authority office in Penn Station to pick up half-price Senior authorization for the subway. We got to the Christopher Street station just about the 2:30 start time, where we found the Street Singers all lined up on the sidewalk ready to go...less Jenny. They started without her, and she showed up maybe 45 minutes later, having encountered some difficulties with some of the subway stations temporarily closed for maintainence. She took her place and finished the 90-minute concert with them. (Photos 1 and 2)

It was a lovely and relaxing concert. Here's a link to a video of one of their performances of almost 20 years ago at the same location. The music hasn't changed a whit since then. I sat on the sidewalk close to the curb to keep an open path for the passers-by. The weather was perfect. Pedestrians would sometimes walk right in front of the singers, but more often would detour out onto the street to avoid doing that. Many would stop and listen for a few minutes, or a few songs. Some stayed for the full concert. Some took photos or videos. I was trying out a new set of hearing aids, but I could not understand a word they sang. (It was all in Latin or French or other European languages.)

When it was over, I finally got to say hello to Jenny, and some of the singers who remembered me from back when Jenny was still living in New Jersey and singing with them regularly. I also re-introduced myself to their chiormaster, John Hetland. We pondered on how best to get to Jalopy Theatre, and get dinner. One of the Street Singers suggested that we take the Ferry to Red Hook, and walk from there to Jalopy. That sounded like fun. And we'd get dinner at the Jalopy Tavern.

We headed back to the subway station (Photo 3) to pick up the #3 Train to Wall Street. I was born and raised in that great big Briar Patch called NYC, Bre'r Fox, and rode the subways all the time. A kid didn't need to borrow his dad's car to get around the city. A lot is the same now as when I was a kid, but there have been some changes. The cars are now air-conditioned. They are all stainless steel clad now, which discourages graffiti. One now pays for the ride via credit card ($3.00, or $1.50 for me with my new senior discount), whereas it used to be a 15-cent subway token I would purchase at the station's token booth. Or use my school pass. That fare is for an unlimited ride on any of the 29 lines, covering 665 miles of track to any of 472 stations in the system. Charlie wouldn't have needed another nickel if he were riding the NYC system. There are now illuminated signs at the station displaying the time to arrival of the next train. The announcements of the next stop on the train's PA system are just as incomprehensible today as they were back then.

We got off at the Wall Street station and walked the urban canyon (Photo 4) east to the river. The East River ferries are new since I lived there. In the 19th Century, the ferry was the only way to get between Manhattan and Brooklyn. But with the advent of the Brooklyn Bridge in 1883, and the dozens of other bridges and tunnels that followed, the ferries all went out of business. It was only in the late 20th Century when all those river crossings reached capacity during rush hour, that the ferries reappeared, and are now thriving. (Photo 5) They are for foot passengers only; no cars. They're fast, and pleasant to ride on, either in the enclosed cabin, or outside on top. On this lovely day, Jenny and I chose the top.

We arrived at the slip just in time to see the Red Hook ferry departing (Photo 5), with the next sailing not scheduled for another half hour. I spent the time just taking in the scene. Among all the typical river traffic, I spotted the schooner shown in Photo 6, its deck crowded with many passengers. I speculated that it might be the Clearwater, Pete Seeger's boat. But when I got home and looked it up, I found the Clearwater has only one main mast, rather than the two on that boat. Maybe it was a tourist excursion boat from the nearby South Street Seaport? [Note: see postscript at the end of this post.] Our ferry finally came, and we boarded. The short trip offered me a view of the Brooklyn Bridge from a new vantage point. (Photo 7) That bridge has always held a soft spot in my heart, for reasons I don't fully understand.

After a breezy and pleasant ride, we arrived at Red Hook, disembarked, and walked the half mile or so to the Jalopy Tavern, arriving just a little after the 6:00 start time. The site of the session was the outdoor back yard of the Tavern this month, rather than the usual location inside the Theatre. I greeted old friends, and introduced them to Jenny and John. It turned out that the Tavern's kitchen was unexpectedly closed that day, so we ordered a delivery from a nearby restaurant. The music started up, and it was an unusually good session that evening. About 25 or 30 folks had gathered, with many fine voices and many fine songs. I might venture to say that some of the songs were exceedingly good. It's hard to encapsulate the joy of joining others in full-throated singing, with harmonies abounding. (Photo 8). I was familiar with many of the songs. For some I was able to pick up the chorus on the fly. Mt new hearing aids were a significant improvement over the old ones, making it easier to make out the lyrics.

We stayed for about 2-1/2 or 3 hours, and then packed up, and headed for Jenny's car. Being more comfortable with NYC traffic than Jenny, I drove us back to the Short Hills station, crossing the Brooklyn Bridge enroute. John parted ways, and Jenny and I headed back to my place in separate vehicles. When we first envisioned this little excursion, we had contemplated visiting the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens, or going to the Jersey Shore on Monday. But the weather predictions for Monday were for severe thunderstorms, and we both felt it prudent that she head for home right after breakfast to beat the rain. Ah, well. Save it for another visit. This one was very full, and very enjoyable.

Postscript: July 2, 2026: Blog reader Paul Fisher sends the following information on the schooner:

Searching Google images, it says:
This is a promotional sailboat for HBO Max's House of the Dragon season 3 premiere in New York City. The vessel is a schooner operated by Manhattan By Sail. The ship features House Targaryen sigils on its sails, depicting a three-headed dragon.  It was spotted sailing near the Brooklyn Bridge and along the East River.

Thanks, Paul.

My house was built sometime in the 1940s as a summer cabin, and winterized for year round occupancy before I bought it in 1980. One of its main attractions was that the back yard bordered on the Rockaway River. (I didn't know when I bought it, but there are times when the front yard borders on the Rockaway River. But that's a story for another Blog post.) One of the great joys of that was that in winter, the river froze over and was great for ice skating. And one of the great things about a frozen river, as opposed to a frozen pond, was that you actually go places on skates. In those early years after I bought the house, the river would freeze solid enough for skating at least once a year, and be skatable for days, if not weeks on end.

But I have lived long enough to witness global warming with my own eyes. The river has not frozen over reliably for the past 10 years, at least, and my skates havenow hang from their hook in my garage . Winters have been mild, snow accumulation light, and I haven't even had to shovel my driveway since COVID.

But winter has returned with a fury this year. Starting around the 2nd week in January, the temperature has plunged into the teens (Fahrenheit), and even down below zero on a few mornings. About 2 weeks ago we got about a foot-and-a- half of light, fluffy snow, and I had to scramble to find someone to plow the driveway. But then last week, the temperature started moderating, rising above freezing during the day, and back into the pattern I had gotten used to in recent years. I thought I was past the worst of winter.

But last week, the predictions arrived of a Nor'easter coming up the coast with more snow, even before the previous snowfall had been cleared. It was due to arrive my way over the weekend, with flurries predicted starting Saturday morning, and then mounting to blizzard conditions on Sunday. That was a problem, as I was scheduled to give a concert 175 miles from me in Binghamton, NY on Saturday night. The forecast for Binghamton was uncertain as to where, when, and how much snow would fall, But the Presenter in Binghamton informed me that the concert would go on as scheduled. Allowing myself a full hour more than GPS told me the tip would take, I hit the road for Binghamton.

The storm was coming up the coast, and Binghamton is well inland. It turned out to be an uneventful drive up, with no precipitation. Tthe concert went well, and to a decent-sized crowd. My original plan had been to stay overnight after the show in Binghamton, and head home on Sunday morning. But that would have had me driving through the worst of it as I neared home, so I left for home immediately after the concert. I lucked out. That drive, too, proved relatively easy, with only a little light rain and fog for the first 25 miles or so, and then clear weather and empty roads the rest of the way home, arriving at 1:00 AM. I unloaded the car, and then brought it up to the head of the driveway so I'd be able to get out with a minimum of shoveling.

Sunday I was safe at home for the Great Blizzard of '26. Starting late morning Sunday, wet heavy snow came down, first lightly, and then fast and furious. I brought about five armloads of firewood up from the garage onto my enclosed porch right after breakfast, and it served me well. The outside temperature was in the 20s. It was still coming down hard when I went to bed, and just as I was getting under the covers, the electricity went out. That wasn't a big issue for me, because my backup generator kicked in as expected after about 15 seconds, and I closed my eyes and went to sleep.

I awoke to find the generator stopped, and the grid power restored. I looked out the window to find some light flurries, and the scene below.

In the morning, I woke to find the generator had stopped, and the grid power restored. I cleared the front deck and steps of snow. There was an accumulation of about 16 inches, and I knew immediately that this snowfall was going to be more difficult to clear than the last one. It was much more dense, and any place it had been gone over by boots or tires was heavily compacted, and heavy. Great for making snow men and snow balls, and really hard to shovel. But later in the day a guy in the neighborhood came by with an ATV with a snowplow attachment, and he did a nice job of clearing the driveway. He asked me for 50 bucks, and I gave him 80. Well worth it. It took him 15 minutes, and it would have taken me 5 hours. If it didn't kill me.

Post Script: January 24, 2026

'Nuf said.
Republicans, wake up! See what your country is becoming. Do something about it.