Reality Bites

Reality Bites was a munching good time--delicious hors d'oeuvres, okay wine and great conversations with friends.

Pat and Heidi sample the cuisine.

Rubbing elbows with the film makers.

Romping, stomping good tunes.

The March March

A fun highlight of the True/False Film Fest is the all volunteer March March. Absent organization and theme, it's just like a parade.

Security for the President was provided by a Viking.

Birds of a feather march together.

All are welcome in the March March. The parade does not discriminate by race, creed, color or galaxy of origin.

March March is Fest-tastic!

Objective assessments

Last night was the opening night for the True/False Film Fest 2009, which is the Sundance of documentary films. It is held right here in our home town. Oh, lucky us. We saw the first public showing of Mosque in Morgantown, which will be aired on PBS in June; Rise Up, which is set in Jamaica and full of great reggae music; and the world debut of October Country, which makes my own family look normal. Sorry mom.

Below, a musician entertains us before a movie.

The film maker of Rise Up answers our questions after the show.

Pat listened carefully to the comments of the co-writers/directors/producers of October Country.

Dorking around with my iPhone, I accidentally documented myself not paying attention. Regardless of the venue, some things never change.

In the next three days, we will see 14 more films. My eyes will be square by then.

Salvo morning

Here in the Heartland, it's still February, but the calendar wasn't powerful enough to prevent a bombardment of hail this morning, followed by mega-thunder boomers and torrential rain. T.S. Eliot said April is the cruelest month. Well, hail and flooding in February just raised the bar. I planned a big day of work, but I think I'm going back to bed where I will dream of peaceful paddling in the North Woods, because I will be loading canoes with dogs and chickens and paddling a train of boats toward the hills this afternoon.

Fletch & Fro

Last night, we were the audience and crowd for Fletch & Fro Bluesmen at the must live it blues circuit stop Arris Pizza & Pub. Their sledge hammer rockin blues was pumping! We had a fantabulous evening talking with and being entertained by Fletch & Fro. The music was fantastic, plus we made four awesome friends.

Keith Fletcher

Rich Froeschner on Bass, Rick on drums, Fletch on lead guitar

Scott McCullough wailing on harmonica

Pat after midnight

Three Dog Night

It was unusually cold in State College yesterday. Barely 20, and winds gusting to 35 miles per hour. Flying to Detroit, I think it was even colder. There was an icy draft in the plane, as if the windows were open. But it wasn't until I got to the gate for my connection to St. Louis that it became an official three dog night. 

Waiting for boarding with other impatient, frequent flyer upgraded to first class business travelers, I engaged in casual conversation with the person pictured on the left below (Paul Kinery) when all of a sudden, Jimmy Greenspoon (on right) flooped in front us with a big, grinning "Ha!" Looking around, I recognized Michael Allsup, Paul Buitz and Danny Hutton. Where was Cory Wells? But more importantly, where is Shambala? Or what is Shambala?Why would anyone want to be on the road to Shambala? Jimmy gladly told me. 

Then Paul asked Jimmy, "Where is your roller bag?" 

And Jimmy looked down, then twirled and said, "It was right here with me." 

"Where were you before here?" 

"Over there," pointing to a spot just 20 feet away by the moving walkway. No bag there either.

"You'd lose your pants if they weren't buckled," Paul flatly proclaimed.

"The club," said Paul, and Jimmy marched toward the NWA World Club, 11 gates down. Half way there, suddenly Jimmy turned around and ambled back to us and smiled.

"Did you give up on your bag?" I asked.

"It's right here," he said with a chuckle while lifting his bulging, blue down coat to expose a small, laptop bag-sized roller bag hanging on a shoulder strap. "I guess I don't know my own strength. I didn't feel it there at all."

Three Dog Night will be playing at a show near you soon. Their performances are more powerful than ever before.

Winter's End

Punxsutawney has Phil and Bill Murray, and even a Groundhog Club, but if you really want to know when winter is over, you should keep your eyes on our friends Frosty and Frostina. Yesterday, Mr. Bojangles and I witnessed the real end of winter. This was no little feat. The event was akin to seeing the Great Pumpkin, Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny all in the same year. After standing proudly there at the fork in our driveway all winter in all kinds of nasty weather, Frosty turned to his life partner and sang in his very Lowell George voice, "Frostina, my sweet Frostina, what are you up to now?" And Frostina crooned, "All of the good, good times are bad, if we forget that was the best winter we ever had." And much to our dismay, Frosty and Frostina sublimated instantaneously right before our very eyes. One second they were solid, pristine, icy snow white, and the next second they were wispy vapor, swirling off in the sky toward the magnetic north pole like a sparkling clean Aurora Borealis. Adieu, tata and good-bye Frosty and Frostina. Be cool.