We came, we saw, we Concord

Note: Today’s entry is brought to you by Sara – enjoy!

After waking up happily be-pillowed and dry, we ventured out for Monday breakfast at the Black Sheep Deli, home of the killer chocolate mousse Sara (guest typing this current blog) had ordered and Ronn had gamely shared for dessert the night before. I had a croissant that made me miss Montreal, and Ronn had some tasty if incendiary jalapeño cheddar focaccia which he ate as we sped along the road towards Concord. We attempted a brief stop at UMass Amherst, one of my runner up grad school choices, but our navigational skills were not at their best, and we decided just to forge ahead without a sneak peak at what could have been. Given Amherst’s general picturesqueness, and my sorrow upon seeing the marmots, gorgeous library, and lovely architecture at the University of Rochester, the choice not to stop was probably a wise one.

Our first stop on the outskirts of Concord was Thoreau’s not-so-remote retreat, Walden Pond. Ronn is not exactly a Thoreau enthusiast, despite my attempts to convert him (But what about “Economy?” What about Thoreau’s general distaste for the project of buying new clothes? What could you possibly disagree with there?). We were both impressed with the Pond, though we decided it could more accurately be labeled Walden Lake. Despite the drizzle that quickly turned into storm, complete with thunder, lightning, and a teenage lifeguard who reminded us that we probably should not be wading in the pond in that sort of weather unless we were anxious to serve as human lightening rods, we began a trek around the pond on a not-too-muddy trail. The roped-off swimming area wasn’t terribly appealing, but all along the trail multiple sets of smooth stone steps led down to the clear lake water, tempting us sorely and displaying others’ lack of self-control when it came to pond’s call; nearly every set of stairs was draped with cast-off clothing. If we’d been in a collecting mood, we could have scored a pair of flip-flops, one pedicure spacer, a pair of underwear, a baby wrap, a towel, and a pair of shorts. We also saw turtles, frogs, and fish, Thoreau’s home site (now bare except for a pile of rocks), and a replica of Thoreau’s cabin before heading to the gift shop and entertaining the very talkative historian who was proud of his pop culture additions to the shop’s inventory (namely the “What would Thoreau do?” t-shirt and a “Simplify, simplify” Livestrong rip-off braclet).

Our first several stops in Concord proper involved wrong turns, Sara’s confused map-reading skills, and an intersection to confound even the most veteran driver. We found our destination, The Old Manse, interesting to me largely because of Hawthorne’s residence there as a newlywed and young father. We donned our historical floor-preserving blue booties and trooped through the house behind a very enthusiastic guide. We got to see quite a bit of the house (and hear QUITE a bit about the wallpaper), and I found myself feeling much more connected to the space than I had at Dickinson’s house. Seeing Hawthorne’s adjustable writing desk, or the notes he and his wife Sophia scratched on the window panes with her wedding ring (apparently, the Hawthornes were not perfect renters and were eventually evicted) made history seem much more present than seeing one of Dickinson’s famous white dresses suspended in a plexiglass box. The Old Manse fronts a serene bit of the Concord River and is within walking distance of the Old North Bridge and the Minute Man National Historic Park, so we sauntered through the Hawthornes’ back yard to view the location of what Emerson called “the shot heard round the world.”

Later, we stopped by the Emerson house–surprisingly large now, though I’m not sure if the building has been added on to since Emerson’s own time. The Emerson society is apparently fond of the long weekend; the building wasn’t open, so we admired the grounds and the grape vines, peered into the windows of what seemed to be a very modern kitchen, and were thoroughly harassed by a troop of ravenous mosquitoes.

Our day was still far from over, but this post should end before I’m tempted to start googling quotes from these terribly worthwhile writers. More soon . . .

First Basketball – then the Rain – then Dickinson

Today I write from the cozy confines of the Clarion Conference Center in Canaan, Connecticut. Actually, all of that is true except for the fact that I’m in Northampton, Massachusetts. Guess that makes it the prevarication of alliteration.

Yesterday was the tale of two loves–or a day of broadening horizons depending on the perspective. From Ithaca, we traveled to Springfield, MA to see the Basketball Hall of Fame. From my recent blog posts, you can guess who planned this part of the trip.

It was in Springfield, that Dr. James Naismith put up a peach basket and created the game of basketball. His motivation was basically to make a game that would burn off the energy of some rowdy students. I tried this once with my students, but Ultimate Fighting Razor Frisbee just didn’t take due to a lack of parental support.

Anyway, the BHoF consists of three levels. The top floor is the Ring of Honor, which contains brief biographies and memorabilia of the players, coaches, referees, and basketball contributors. Their pictures sit above on the hall’s domed ceiling. Sara actually went through this a lot more carefully than I did, and enjoyed learning about the history of the game and the rule changes that have taken place. The second floor contains more history and a large collection of uniforms–including the scandalous short shorts that were worn up to the 80s. We also had a lot of fun with the mini-hoop shoot, hoop slingshot, commentary station, reflex tester, and vertical leap meter. Sadly, my vertical leap has lost about 10 inches though I partially blame it on my flip flops. The ground floor is a basketball court where you can shoot hoops on all varieties of hoops from a peach basket to present and from mini to regulation-size. I entered the free throw contest and barely grazed the rim on the first one and airballed the second. It should be noted that there were kids who were barely out of diapers making free throws ahead of me.

So ten inches of vertical loss and two badly missed free-throws! Maybe the Hall of Fame was telling me I need to hang up my hightops. Nah. I’ll just have to bring the kids back some day and actually make those shots…or at least hit rim.

After that we drove through some terrible rain on our way up to Amherst–the kind that even with the wipers on hyperdrive you can still barely see through. We’ve had some terrible downpours on this vacation, which appear to be a theme through the rest of the week. Fortunately, our second activity was indoors as well.

Yes, Sara did indeed indulge my love of 19th century poetic recluses as we headed to the Emily Dickinson Homestead. We had to run through rain to get there, but we made it. Our notecard-aided tour guide was a little less than impressive, but it was fascinating to see the room where Emily Dickinson actually wrote some of her “greatest hits” We also saw her award winning gingerbread recipe and the window where she lowered down baked goods to local children. Sara even got to read a poem (“Much madness is divinest sense”) out loud in the house. She rocked the poem in a way I wish I had rocked my free throws. She’s clutch like that. Afterward, I asked her all kinds of questions about Dickinson, and she answered them without notecards of course.

We wandered around Amherst for about 30 minutes looking for the perfect restaurant and ended up eating at the first restaurant we had seen. Because that is how we do. It’s called the pre-calorie burn of indecisiveness. Try it. This time it ended in some decent malai kofta and saag paneer.

Finally, it was back to the hotel for a swim in the lovely indoor pool and a real night of rest on a real pillow. Camping makes a bed feel so wicked good.

Ithaca is Gorges

Today’s Queso Dip comes to you from Moe’s Southwest Grill in Ithaca, NY. Despite living only a few hours away from this trendy Ivy League town, we didn’t really take advantage of its coolness save one frigid visit with the in-laws.

Our Ithaca odyssey started with lunch at the famous Moosewood Restaurant. Sara had a delectable baguette sandwich filled with aioli, basil, gruyere cheese, and super sweet roasted peppers. I had an Asian filo roll, which sounds a little odd, but is worthy of replication. We topped it off with a peach parfait–fresh peaches, real whipped cream, and ginger snaps (not Schnapp’s).

We also happened upon a street fair with an eclectic mix of food and some dancers. We witnessed three routines: a hip-hop salsa, a group lindy hop (Sara described the dancers as the outgoing grad students–probably chemistry majors), and an unchoreographed swing dance by a couple middle-aged dance instructors. Two of the three dances involved Asian dudes, which prompted Sara to suggest we should give it a try.

The sky must have been jealous of our Moosewood meal, because as we drove to our campsite, it began to salivate all over us. The drops kept getting bigger and bigger at which point we realized that I forgot to pack a tarp. After much hand-wringing, we gritted our teeth and headed to Wal-Mart for needed tarp. By the time we got back, the rain had stopped, but the bottom of our tent was soaked. Don’t try to ascertain why I didn’t wait to set up the tent until after we secured the tarp–I’m just an outdoor ignoramus. Fortunately, Sara came up with the idea of putting the tarp inside the tent, which seemed to work well. Don’t know if my idea of using the car headrest for a pillow will work as well seeing as how we forgot pillows and I was too cheap and mad at myself to buy a Wal-pillow.

The rain stopped so we decided to explore our Buttermilk State Park campsite. We got our booties kicked by the first 1/2 mile, but the view from above Buttermilk Creek was a gorgeous gorge indeed. We saw about 10 waterfalls on our 1 1/2 mile hike, which I would post pictures of except for the fact that I forgot the handy cable to my CFC adapter. I’ll update this post when I get home, but for now you can just get your Google on and know that these falls were like buttah…milk.

Now we are enjoying the free Wi-Fi at Moe’s as well as their delicious queso dip. Our Northeast Farewell Tour is off to a good start.

131-92

Ouch.

Game On

Although I still believe that the Lakers can pull this series out, there is a chance that it ends tonight. Pardon me while I write excessively.

I love the renewal of the Lakers/Celtics rivalry, and can’t remember the last time I was this excited about a Finals series. Here are a “few” ruminations about this series before tonight’s big game.

The Celtics have been the better team: During the last two games especially, this has become painfully obvious. The Cs get more open shots, do a better job of adjusting defensively, fight a lot harder for loose balls, and other than KG’s performance Sunday, they have taken care of business at the foul line. And of course, there’s that mental toughness they show in never giving up. The second half of Game 4 will forever haunt me.

The Lakers are capable of winning it all: Although they have clearly not played their best basketball, the Lakers are only down 2-3 and could easily be up 3-2. Other than Game 3 and the 1st quarter of Game 5, Kobe has yet to explode. Quite a bit of this has to do with the Celtic defense, but there are times when no defense can shut him down. The Lakers also seemed to find a weakness in the C’s small lineup–as Jordan Farmar mercilessly exploited Eddie House on drives. Additionally, the Laker bigs seemed exponentially more comfortable with Kendrick Perkins out of the lineup. With Perkins doubtful for Thursday, the Lakers have the advantage again.

Poor KG: Even though my loyalties are for the Lakers, I have always been a KG fan. I felt for him when his T-Wolves got bounced by the Lakers in the Western Conference Finals, and was happy when he went to Boston. If the Celtics lose, his Game 5 performance will cement his reputation as a choker. Two missed free throws, foul trouble all game, and some abuse by Gasol when he was in it. My best-case scenario would be for Garnett to drop 40-20s the next two games (while someone else misses the clutch shots) and for the Lakers to still pull it out.

Phil Jackson is getting outcoached: This has been chronicled in numerous sports columns, and I believe it to be true. Ever since his Chicago Bulls days, Jackson has always let his teams flail about for long stretches as he sits on the bench with his arms crossed, refusing to throw the life preserver. Unfortunately, these Lakers are not those Bulls. Is there any doubt that a timeout would have helped his team in Game 5 as they were blowing that lead? At least for the sake of getting Chris Mihm out of the ball game? Speaking of Mihm, I was especially puzzled by Jackson’s lineup to start the second. Kobe was in rhythm, the offense was rolling, and they had a perfect chance to go for the jugular. That inability to put the Celtics away, has been the Lakers biggest problem, and a great deal of responsibility for that rests on Jackson’s substitution patterns. By the time Kobe came back, he was as cool as sushi. One thing that makes the Zen Master look even worse is the fact that Doc Rivers has been making successful adjustments all series. Pierce on Bryant. Small lineup. Eddie House in for Rondo. Three starters with injuries. On the other hand, Jackson and his staff have shown a total inability to adapt on the defensive end. KG’s high picks have allowed Paul Pierce to fillet the Lakers repeatedly. I’ve seen elementary school teams do a better job of adjusting. Try a zone defense. Double Paul Pierce. Apply full court pressure. Do something different aside from just praying the Celtics will miss open shots like they did in Game 5.

Okay obviously a lot to say on Phil. I do recommend reading his book, More than a Game. Hopefully he coaches out of his Zen mind these next two games, shuts me up, and wins ring number 10.

Kobe Bryant is playing his best basketball: This might seem strange given his numbers, but I think Kobe Bryant has played very well in this series. His shot has been off for a lot of it, but the Celtics have made other superstars look terrible. Other than a few stretches, Kobe has shown a remarkable amount of trust in his teammates that has been consistent when they were winning and losing. Early in his career and even some this season, it would be physically hard for me to watch the guy play. He played with the belief that only he, Kobe Bryant, could bring his team back and that his teammates were liabilities. He had a point when Kwame Brown was on his team, but I even saw this attitude against the Jazz in their OT game during the Conference semis. The classic example of the change in his attitude came in Game 5. Jordan Farmar airballs a previous shot, and Kobe comes right back to him. The result, Farmar drains the 3. If Kobe had tried to force the agenda this series and get his 30 each game, I have no doubt the Lakers would have been done in 4.

Kobe Bryant is overrated: As much acclaim as I give him on his offensive game, I’ve got to skewer KB24 for his defense. Jeff Van Gundy was absolutely right in saying on national TV that Kobe did not deserve to be on the All-NBA Defensive Team. While Kobe can be a lockdown defender individually, and his two steals on Paul Pierce gave them the game, he may be the worst player in the NBA at fighting through screens. This may be amplified by the fact that these screens are coming from KG, but if you watch the Lakers’ defensive breakdowns–almost all of them start with Kobe not staying with his man. You ever notice how the Laker bigs always seem to be scrambling? That’s because they have to play the mismatch that Kobe creates from not being able to fight through his screens. Luckily, the Lakers are remarkably good at covering for him most of the time, but players like Ray Allen absolutely kill Kobe. After watching these few games, it made me remember how Kobe was similarly torched by Richard Hamilton in the 2004 Finals. It also made me think that although he totally dogged on him a couple years ago, Kobe will be very very happy when Andrew Bynum comes back to keep the key Pierce free. Other than his defense, Kobe is just simply not the player the media has made him out to be. He still lacks the consistency of Jordan (and the calls in this series at least), and has trouble against really good defenses. After having a horrible series against the Celtics, Lebron put up a monster Game 7 that almost carried his Cavs. I’m not sure Kobe is capable of it, but just like with Phil, I would love to eat my words.

The refs need to let them play: During these final two games, I hope that the refs let some things go. I questioned the nickel dimers on Garnett and Pierce in the closing minutes of Game 5 (and Garnett all game really), and was completely puzzled by the Leon Powe lovefest we saw in Game 2. A physical game where superstars are getting pounded without whistles is vastly preferable to a free throw parade that disrupts the game and always ends up being unfair to one team.

I love this series: Even though the Lakers are losing, and there have been some ugly games (Game 5), this has been a remarkably competitive series. We’ve seen a dramatic return from a knee injury, a near miracle 4th quarter comeback, a miracle 24-point comeback, a near 19-point comeback, and a competitive game each night. I also give the Celtics a lot of credit for fighting through the injuries, and the Lakers a lot of credit for not rolling over in Game 5 when it looked like they had blown it again. Both these teams have shown a lot of heart, and they have done The Legacy proud.

My hope can be summed up in the almost words of Elton John: “Don’t let the sun go down on [them] yet”