Hey, good morning! It’s nice to see you. I hope you had a great week.
It’s been a busy one over here. I think we’re taking today’s rainy forecast as a hint from the universe to slow down a bit, lest summer run away from us entirely.
I’m back home after my week of house and dog sitting. A change is as good as a break, they say, but I was happy to come home nonetheless.
If you’ve got a couple minutes to spare, go grab us a couple clean mugs from the cupboard. I’ve got a pot of tea ready to pour.
Let’s catch up.
Who is that guy
The musical artist Phoebe Bridgers pulled off a fun trick this week.
(Alice and Jane introduced me to her a few years ago, and I’m a fan. I especially enjoy her work in the superband boygenius.)
Wednesday, Bridgers made a surprise appearance on Jimmy Fallon for the world TV debut of her new song Lost Boys. The wonderful part: the camera begins tight on Bridgers as she starts the song. When it zooms out, you see her backing band is literally children. It’s just a bunch of talented kids rocking out on national TV.
This was only part one of her little ploy. The next evening, she was back on Fallon to play the acoustic version of the exact same song. She wore the exact same clothes. Her hair was done up exactly the same. The song began with the same close-up on her. This time, as the camera zoomed out, it revealed her backing band was all older men.
It was terrific fun, and a lovely way to play off some of the meaning of the song. The real impact, for me, came in the following days.
As I re-watched the acoustic version, I was struck by the fellow seated immediately next to her. The other members of the band, if you’ll pardon my bluntness, look like normal old guy musicians. The guy immediately beside her who sang backups just looked like a normal grandpa, right down to the New York ballcap, crisp jeans, and cross trainers. He could just as likely be making a grocery run to Sobeys.
It turns out I wasn’t the only person wondering about this fellow, as shown by the Rolling Stones headline above. That old guy turns out to be Dan Reeder, a visual artist and folk musician who I really should have heard of before this week.
I spent the last half of the week binge-listening his records. He is quirky. He is weird. He is talented. He is hilarious. He builds all his own instruments from scratch. His music is wonderfully simple and draws from his eye that sees miracles in the every day.
My kind of fellow.
His most recent album is a live record recorded with his daughter Peggy. I can’t help but notice they sound like my family when we play music together (if I can be bold enough to make that comparison). Please take a few minutes to watch them play Reeder’s song Maybe on the Late Show with Stephen Colbert.
Maybe is a song about death, and it treats death with awe, with humour, with tears, and with honesty. And like the best songs, the tears and laughter are sometimes in the exact same breath.
Maybe Jesus beat that rap, we’re not sure
Maybe you can live forever if your heart is pure
Or maybe you’ll come back some day as a king prawn
Maybe angels come and take you away to heaven
Or the other way, but from down here it appears
That when they’re gone, they’re gone
Under our tree
Erin and I spent most of yesterday taking care of things around the house and plotting and scheming our way through the rest of summer. Sometime in the mid-afternoon, we threw blanket and some books into a backpack and headed downtown. After picking up a snack and a drink, we headed to Connaught Square park, which is, by far, our favourite of Charlottetown’s square parks.
We set up under an oak tree for a couple hours. We snacked. We watched kids play on the playground. We read. We napped. At one point, Erin spotted a ball trapped in the upper branches of the tree above our blanket. After a while, she pulled out a couple of her homemade bean bags, and we had a game of catch for 20 minutes.
It was a perfect way to spend an afternoon.
Strong by Nature
Erin’s running a five-week course of her Strong by Nature course in Victoria Park this weekend. The class started this past week with a lovely group of people, but there are still a few open spots. Payment options are flexible, and run from free to more-than-free. I’m telling you, this is a wonderful way to spend a Tuesday evening. You don’t even need to be able to attend every class. Summer is busy. We get it.
Anyway. Good talk. Sign up here.
Oh! Also! She’s still gathering supplies for future classes. One thing on her dream list is a classroom parachute. They can be pretty pricey new, so if you’re an educator or a retired educator who has one of these packed away not being used, drop me a line, and I’ll connect you with Erin.
Lakeside Jersey Dairy
The house I was sitting this week had an old plastic milk crate leaned up against the fence gate to keep it closed. After a few days of moving this crate to get my bike in and out of the yard, I finally took a proper look at it and realized we were both natural born citizens of the great town of Leamington, Ontario.
I have no idea how Lakeside Jersey Dairy milk crate made it all the way to Prince Edward Island, but I was glad to see it. I grew up with bags of Lakeside milk in our fridge. I did a bit of googling and see it finally closed in 2009, one of the last independent dairies in Ontario.
That’s all she wrote this week, friendo.
I hope you also spend a bit of time in Dunnock Bay this morning. Old Albert at St. Jeanne’s Residence is watching a big summer storm through a window on the second floor. Take a little memory trip with him here.
Many thanks to those who support Dunnock Bay with a paid subscription. I’m honestly quite touched by the support. If you’d like to make a one-time show of support for my writing, you can also use my Buy Me A Coffee feature at the bottom of this message.
Speaking of that:
Have a great week!