From Cape Cod to Maine for the final leg of my summer travels…

Portland has been blessed by the arrival of Andrew and Rachel last summer. Rachel is involved in the art community there and I attended a vibrant outdoor fair in which she and other local artists set up booths to display and vend their wares, while bands rocked the stage in beautiful weather. We then hit up Hugo’s Restaurant, where Andrew is Chef de Cuisine and indulged in gastronomic delight with his absurd tasting menu. Both of them are incredibly creative and passionate artists and have settled into a wonderful life in Maine.

My parents celebrated their 40th (!) anniversary on 8/29/10 and joined their kids and spouses in Portland for a great dinner at Fore Street–the second best restaurant in Portland!–and we thanked them for getting married and raising us in the past 2/3rds of their life. I can not say enough about how much they have done for me; I literally owe them my life! Their marriage is an inspiration and I hope to someday match their accomplishments. Thank You and I Love You!

Three days at the family cabin on Mt. Desert Island with hiking, biking, swimming, grilling, chilling, and audio/visual creating may become a Stephen law: Minimum three days required every Summer with non-compliance punishable by no cabin time!

And to wrap it up, two days on North Haven island at the annual Lobster Ball, in which we gorge ourselves on Lobster and other assorted delicacies and enjoy one final jolt of Summer before steeling ourselves for Fall…

And Summer is done! It is especially hard to say goodbye to this summer because it has been one of my best ever. There was zero work involved for the past three months so it was pure freedom; great traveling, incredible food, amazing friends and family and inspiring nature. But as perfect as the summer was, there is a part of me that craves work (and cash!) and I am looking forward to the next 9 months of making music with children, of learning from them and experiencing their joy. Until next Summer!

As a tyke, my summers were spent in glorious Cape Cod, so I can’t be sure just how much of my love for this place is nostalgic, but darn if it isn’t a perfect place to be today! This weekend was an amazing Taylor family reunion, with MomMom and her four sons and daughter-in-laws, plus 10 of the 12 cousins (myself included) and their wives/fiancees/boyfriends congregating in Osterville for beach and beer pong… It isn’t often that I see my extended family, but every time I am reminded how awesome this family is; we have our mini-dramas for sure, but everyone connected to MomMom and DadDad is a wonderful human being and I have deep love for each of my relatives. I look forward to watching this family grow up and produce another generation of good people!

And then the storm blew in! It happened to arrive on the day we set out to Nashwena, a small, private Elizabethan island about 12 miles out from Woods Hole belonging to descendants of the Forbes family, one of whom is a close friend of my brother. Three kerosene-burning houses and a wandering pack of Highland cattle are all that maintain this timeless environment. After a rough bounce through Vineyard Sound and Buzzards Bay, we moored the boat and hunkered down in the red house through some brutal winds and stinging rain. But even in those conditions, it can be impossible to resist the pull of the ocean and its bounty of fish, so we marched to the wave slathered rocky coast and whipped our frozen-mackerel-on-a-hook or shiny, spinny lures into the sea and waited for the hook to set in the jowls of some foolish sea creature. Our legal (28in+) catch was minimal, but I’ve always preferred quality to quantity and Andrew turned our meager supply of Striped Bass into crudo; raw fish with oil, lemon, herbs and cured pig. Amazingly unforgettable, but that’s par for the course when Andrew steps into the kitchen… potatoes au gratin, duck with pickled jalapeno and rose hip sauce and fantastic salads from the island’s bursting gardens was some of the best food I’ve ever eaten. With food, family and friends, complemented by some epic late-night jam sessions, the wannabe hurricane could not even begin to dampen our joyous celebration of the good life.

I hate to brag, but this summer has been one of my best ever. The past month was pure chill, with European adventure and Vermont bliss. My last entry came just after our Italian leg, which was followed by two weeks in Catalonia, visiting the Bucklands in Barcelona and Borde Neuve. Surrounded by Americans, but soaking in Spanish and French culture, eating beautiful food and drinking local — as in backyard — wine. In Barcelona, Kevin introduced us to the squat scene, a truly bohemian free lifestyle, and I met up with two women who used to be au pairs in my home almost 25 years ago. I was inspired by the Picasso museum, which traces his art from youth to death, becoming astonishingly more and more primitive as his years increase (“À huit ans, j’étais Raphaël. Il m’a fallu toute une vie pour peindre comme un enfant ” Translation: At eight years old, I was Raphael. It took me a lifetime to paint like a child). We danced to reggae in the streets and bought beer from plastic bag dealers to drink all night wherever we went. We hung out with one of the most absurdly cute cats ever, Farnie… In France, the pace is even slower, allowing days of reading and music-making (I brought my laptop and mini keyboard.), punctuated by deliciously drawn-out meals… Walks in the vineyard valleys and up to the wind-whipped top of Bugarach, swimming in the Mediterranean and local rivers. Three weeks sped by through the languid pace and we were on a plane, headed home.

A night in Newton and dinner with Taylors then a brief return to Brooklyn to see friends and attend Beach House and The National at Prospect Park…

then up to Mt. Holly Vermont to bask in the comforting scenery of Strong Country, Appalachian Trail peaks and swimming holes; golfing and hot tubbing; smoking the best ribs, brisket and beer-can chicken I’ve ever tasted…

And back to Brooklyn. I am home and despite all the amazing experiences I’ve had over the past month, this is exactly where I want to be. Traveling offers new perspectives and challenges, all of which open the mind in crucial ways. When we leave our nest, our awareness is heightened and another culture’s quotidian rhythms create a parallel self that grows into and out of familiarity. Traveling is the greatest education and the most valuable experience for personal enrichment. I am lucky (although it is not entirely accidental) that my work patterns allow me to spend my summers freely and that a month of travel is an annual rite for me and I will continue to explore the world as long as I am able.

I am lucky to have the greatest travel partner in the world!

Mt. Holly is a typically beautiful Vermont retreat, and nestled among the mountains and forests and fields is the recently purchased home of Sarah and Eric (Saric). It is anti-Brooklyn. Peace and tranquilty reign and life thrives in all shapes and sizes; it is actually possible in this country setting for humans to feel a part of the natural order rather than its oppressor. I appreciate what the city offers and need it in my life, but the occasional escape to an outpost of serenity is vital to my sanity.

Congratulations Saric on your amazing property and thank you for generously sharing it. You picked a winner and I look forward to visiting often.

On April 20, an explosion on an oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico caused a massive leak a mile below the ocean’s surface. It was clear then that we were witnessing an historical catastrophe, and now, three weeks later, the oil continues to flow unchecked into our environment. Estimates of the damage have varied from bad to horrendous, and now there is video of the underwater oil geyser spewing forth its toxins into the environment. It is devastating. Having failed to contain it with a giant structure lowered to the seabed, BP admits that it’s arsenal to stop the leak is limited and includes a last ditch effort of shooting junk — actual human waste — into the hole in hopes of stopping it. While I am a fan of anything that works, this clearly demonstrates how unprepared the industry is to deal with their own environmental disasters.

Who is to blame? Everyone is pointing fingers and looking for a scapegoat. BP! Halliburton! The US Government! Each of these players had a role in this specific instance, but I think it comes down to our global obsession with petroleum. We have become oil fiends incapable of evaluating the true cost of our addiction. Not only does it wreak severe havoc on our natural environment with leaks and greenhouse gases, but we engage in war–as in destruction and murder– for its control. It is the basis of our economy, which relies on the illusion of cheap energy.

While I would love to believe that this disaster will be a wake-up call and will shift our dependence, I am highly skeptical that we are capable of this necessary change. We will probably continue our unabated consumption just as our artificial lifeblood currently gushes into our true lifeblood.

I choose to live in the city for many reasons, mainly its efficiency and culture, but there are also some crucial deficiencies to life in Brooklyn, namely tranquility and nature. Luckily, I have some very special homes away from home, one of which is the lovely village of Sydling St. Nicholas in Dorset, England where Alaina’s grandparents reside. This is beautiful countryside of rolling hills occupied mostly by cows and sheep with tiny human hamlets in the valleys. In the city, it is the immensity of our buildings that inspires me; in the country, it is the immensity of space. Living in such close proximity to so many people forces us city dwellers to turn inwards and guard our personal space closely. I love people and communication, but oftentimes I find myself introverting and wearing mental blinders to the chaos that surrounds me. Seeing the complete sky is almost impossible walking through canyons of human construction so when I travel somewhere that the sky arcs like a dome from horizon to horizon I can finally look outward. Being part of this environment reminds me of our planet’s true scope and gives me perspective.

Much Love to G and Grand for hosting us and being so incredibly generous and kind and insprirationally lovely! Gail and Kevin and Piera also deserve praise and gratitude for making it so Bucklandtastic. And of course, my Alaina… for being the best wife in the whole wide world and bringing me into her amazing clan!

Right now in Bangkok, a monumental conference is underway, involving delegates from all over the world who have come to discuss nothing less than the future survival of our planet. Climate change is the focus and negotiations have begun on the follow-up to the Kyoto Protocol which will be drafted in Copenhagen next month. It is a crucial moment in our planet’s history because we have already pushed the limits of our ecosystem’s capacity to maintain itself and are bringing it to the brink of being inhospitable. There is no question that without checking our consumption and abuse, the atmosphere will eventually deny us our basic life necessities. Certainly, we will survive in the short-term and there are many powerful lobbies that consider immediate profit the only factor of any importance, but without a long-term view, we are doomed. It is a simple concept that becomes infinitely complex when corporate self-interest controls the dialogue and economic growth supersedes the health and well-being of our one and only home.
Fortunately, I have some amazing friends who are working to steer the conversation in the right direction. Ben Jervey, contributor to GOOD Magazine and author of The Big Green Apple, is in Bangkok as a reporter, following the US representatives and giving the world an earpiece to the discussion. He has been blogging about the negotiations here, and while the US has been playing spoiler and threatening to once again defy any agreement (we were too good for Kyoto, too), their position can only improve. Kevin Buckland is there as artist-in-residence for 350.org creating art and organizing social capital for the cause. 350.org is an organization devoted to setting a cap on total CO2 level at 350 parts per million in the atmosphere, which many scientists have agreed is the maximum that our planet can withstand without causing major climate change. Currently we stand at 385 and most estimates see that number growing rapidly and spiraling out of control if we don’t set aggressive goals for its reduction. Although I am still in Brooklyn, I recently produced a song for the campaign:

350 parts per million carbon dioxide in the air.mp3

Now is the time to take charge and make a difference. If we allow this opportunity to slip away and Copenhagen bows to the will of economic interests, we will be setting ourselves up for severe consequences. The stakes are high and the results could be calamitous, but with enough support, we have the potential to change our approach before it’s too late.

It is one of the few annual events in my life and I look forward to it every year. This year’s jam was especially special because there is now a house at the Land (in Warwick, NY) to shelter us from the elements; the weather this entire month has been dismal, and this weekend was no exception. Saturday was a rainout, but that didn’t stop us from playing one of the best whiffle ball games ever. As always, the food, beverages, music and company was top notch, and even rain can’t damper the refreshing feeling of being out in the woods and away from the intensity of the city. Despite the house, we still burned tons of wood (and only wood!) in the bonfire and slept in tents, embracing the spirit of camping. I am already planning for next year!

Here is the final play of our whiffleball game — bottom of the 10th, tied 7-7, and a dispute for all eternity. You make the call…

Safe or Out?

I played my first golf round of the season at Forest Park in Queens this morning and it rained hard the entire time. Mets and Yankees games were postponed, but we slogged through the course and enjoyed every minute of it. Sure, it could have been bright sunshine and ideal golf conditions, but it wasn’t, so we played what we got. It is a nice walk through rural New York City that included many bird sightings (nice Red-Winged Blackbirds, Red-Bellied Woodpeckers, Geese and an Egret) and occasionally offered the opportunity to strike a small ball with a stick in an effort to make it fall into a hole in the ground. I took roughly 93 shots today, some long, some short, some left and some (way) right and even felt pretty good about a few of them — at this stage in my competitive athletic career, I find those isolated moments of a perfect drive or long putt some of my most satisfying. Golf is a game of concentration and muscle control and when the two work harmoniously together to produce an outstanding shot, it feels good.

Summer came early yesterday and we are enjoying the best weather of the year now, in the 80’s and so appreciated after the past month of monsoon. All of Brooklyn seemed to be in Prospect Park yesterday (and I am sure today) in our annual migratory shift outside. Our lifestyle changes dramatically during this period, from our choice perches to our means of cooking food and our general attitude. We bloom with the trees and flowers in perfect time with the rhythm of life.