North on Highway 83 from McCook...

Spent the night in McCook, the "Go To City of Southwestern Nebraska".  Don't know what it means, or who makes these things up, but I suppose it makes sense to someone.

McCook is one of those moderately large sized towns that were once railroad hubs, were quite prosperous centers of commerce and community, and while they no longer serve the function for which they initially evolved , they are still well maintained and struggling for an identity and sense of purpose.  Just spent the morning, walked around and had coffee at Sehnert's Bakery which I had been looking forward to.  Just about everything there that was not bread was deep fried, but our travels through rural Nebraska would indicate that out there, this is considered good eatin'.  The main reason we look forward to our stays in McCook, is the great Sumatra coffee at Sehnert's.  Always pleasant surprise.

While I did mention below that I needed to take some pictures of the other side of the street some afternoon, next time around,  I did find this photo I took last year sitting under the tree at Snert's, as we like to call it, drinking a cup of sumatra.  As I imagined, the other side of the street looks about the same as this side.  That's our rented car in front there.

While this is not meant to be an exhaustive overview of McCook, the rest of the town does not vary much from the photos shown, so you get the idea.  Clean, and well maintained for the most part, like so many once important main streets, and in search of an identity now that the soul sucking box stores parked along the highways at the edge of town have stolen their reason for being.  The main street in McCook, Norris Avenue is paved in brick and gently slopes down to the railroad tracks.  These photos cover close to one block on the side of the street the sun was shining on.  The other side, which was shadowed, and not photogenic at the time, looked kind of the same.  Lots of empty storefronts,  lots of people trying to make a go of it.  Didn't know I would be doing a Highway 83 thing when we were in McCook, so I will try to get back,  next time as always, if there is one.  

                                                                   Pablo

Nebraska, Highway 83...

                                                             

As you can probably tell from the last posting (Sinclair Gas), we are back in Nebraska for another extended amble around the state.  The Sandhills are addictive.  It is always hard to know where to start but it turned out that Highway 83 seemed as good a place as any.  I'm sure that by now, we have seen more of Nebraska than almost any one who is not a state employee, and since I got side tracked and distracted somewhere during my report of our last trip,  I hope for a more comprehensive report this time, but who knows.  Anyway, here's hoping...

     

There are many historic roads in America with stories to tell and sights to be seen, ranging from the A1A that runs along the Atlantic coast of south Florida all the way down to Key West,  to the Pacific Coast Highway along the ragged California coast, and everything in between.   We didn't know it until we were at the end of our journey along the way, but the "in between" route we were on was Highway 83, one of those quietly cult, hypnotically captivating, very American, roads that literally take you through the middle of nowhere,  which was where I needed to be and you probably do too if you had any sense.  If I had only known at the onset, I would have paid a little more attention, maybe.   As it was I did a pretty good job of seeing what there was to see, but to paraphrase Pierre Teilhard de Jardin, experience produces evermore perfect eyes in a world in which there is always more to see, so as always, next time..next time...next time.  It would be nice to get it right the first time.  Till then, intellectual rationalization and quoting obscure 20th century philosophers will have to do.  

Originally, called the Great Plains Highway, before they started to number US roads, the 83 ran in fits and starts, from Swan River,  Manitoba, Canada straight down through the Dakotas, Nebraska, Kansas, Oklahoma, and Texas,  into Mexico where it enters at Matamoros,  where I lost track of it, possibly because of all the murder and mayhem going on down there,  I won't be going down there anytime soon.   Our time on the 83 was primarily in Nebraska where it bisects the Sandhills, and actually the entire country,  as you can see if you felt like looking at a map.

Throughout the states, it has been designated as a Blue Star Highway to honor those who have served in the armed forces.

I'm not always as attentive to details as I should be, particularly since I did not find out the significance of the 83 till we were at the end of it (for us) in Valentine, NE,, so I had to backtrack on map and cross reference things with my photos to get things right.  It would appear that we picked up the 83 in Northern Kansas after a quick jog south on the 383 into Kansas so that we could check out a little town called Long Island since we come from L.I., NY.  

It was neither long, nor an island, nor much of a town, and it was quite overcast when we got there, and the only person I saw in town to ask questions about this was quite pleasant and engaging, but didn't speak any english.  Go figure.  So I took this overcast picture of the post office 

which I like to do, and we continued on in a mostly cloudy Kansas along the 383 to the 36, where we picked up the Highway 83 in Oberlin and headed north  crossing the border at about 2 pm.   I know this because as we crossed over, the sun began to shine and the first 2 photos I took were of route 89 which is the southernmost intersecting road in Nebraska

and this beauty, about 3/4 of a mile north of the 89, which I did make a point of noting ...

Still south of the Sandhills, this section of Nebraska is good farm land for growing wheat, corn, hay, and whatever else.

 I didn't seem to take any other photos of note on the 27 mile stretch between the Kansas border and McCook, the town where we were spending the night, because it had been a long day, having traveled all the way from Red Cloud that morning and I seemed to spend the day playing hide and seek with the clouds which can be exhausting and frustrating in ways only another photographer could appreciate.

Thus began the beginning of our journey on the historic Great Plains Highway, the 83, little did we know at the time.  To be continued.  Also, thanks to Stew Magnuson for the great background information on his U.S. Route 83 Travel Page web site.  Check it out!!!

                                                                Pablo

Speaking of gas...

Sorry we have been out of touch for a while, but we were ambling.  Jackie and I just got back from a month in the midwest, and while there I became aware of my unexpected pleasure in seeing and frequenting Sinclair service stations, which I had forgotten about and just figured that they no longer existed.  They used to be quite common back east in the 1950's and probably before that, with their green and white pumps and the green dinosaur as their logo.  It was probably the logo that was the thing for me.  By the time I become old enough to drive in the mid 60's there were no longer Sinclair stations in  New York, although I didn't realize it back then or give it a second thought.  So I was quite pleasantly surprised to see loads of Sinclair stations in Nebraska, Missouri, and Iowa, and made a point of using them.  Glad to see they are still around, and wondering why we no longer have them back home.  It would be nice to see Dino while out and about in our neighborhood.

While filling up in Council Bluffs, Iowa as we began our long trek back home, I looked out the window and saw this, and a blog entry just flashed through my mind.   It may be a little ideocryncratic, and of interest to no one but me, but so be it.

This is the Sinclair station just outside of Dunning, Nebraska.  It is a gas station, general store, and cafe, where you can get coffee, hot dogs, have a coke and bag of doritos, and just sit in one of the booths and chat.  Kind of the Bagdad Cafe of Dunning, but nothing quite that exotic.  There is nothing else around for 20 miles in any direction.  The only things that seemed open in Dunning were the bar and the post office (see Dunning posting earlier on in this blog).

In the old part of town in Auburn, Nebraska, a Sinclair station as extinct the the dinosaur himself.

Rockport, Missouri

 Sinclair station at Blunt, South Dakota where we filled up for the last leg of our famous Highway 83 amble before crossing the border to Valentine, Nebraska where we would spend a couple of days.  For some reason, the gas was cheaper in SD at the time.

I'm sure this posting will be of little interest to anyone else, but it did turn out to be an interesting segue back to Nebraska.  The unconscious part of it is the interesting thing.  My last postings before we left, were about the anti-fracking (natural gas related) activity going on in Albany.  I hadn't looked at them prior to posting this, but interestingly (to me anyway) this was titled "Speaking of gas":  Get it?  On a totally unrelated subject, but here we are, back in Nebraska.  So where do I go from here; I'm not quite sure myself, so stay tuned...   

                                                                Pablo

May 15, Anti-Fracking Rally...

Dateline Albany, NY, May 15, the Anti-Fracking Rally at 4:30 at the state capital...

The weatherman doesn't get it right a lot of the time, but today of all days, he was "spot on", as they say.  It was in the mid 60's, and rained fairly heavily for much of the day.  Not hospitable weather for the great anti-fracking rally scheduled to take place on the west lawn of the capital building at 4:30.  The rains began to slow to a drizzle by 3:45, the skies brightened a bit, and by 4:10 the rains ceased.  A biblical miracle!!!  But as you can see, the west lawn was empty.....

with the exception of this one intrepid anti-fracker who told me that she was just there to direct people to go inside the building where the rally had been moved by the organizers who decided to ignore this "sign" from the heavens that all would be well, thereby subjecting the protesters to the indignity of enduring a thorough security check (airport style) before being permitted their right to "protest".  I read a very thoughtful article recently observing that the whole security subculture search thing at airports etc. had the unstated, but very real, ultimate purpose of desensitizing us to the  indignity of subjugating our rights and privileges to the control of uniformed authority "for our own good and safety" as an important early phase of the fascist control under which we will and are already finding ourselves exposed to on a daily basis.  Rant, rant rant...     

So I decided to stay outside with a few others including Diana from the Finger Lakes area who designed this sign...  That's not Diana holding the sign.

Great revolutions produce great art, and great suffering...

And interesting people...

And sometimes a fortuitous combination of the two having nothing to do with fracking.  A good day for pictures if not for protests.  

Leaving on Thursday for a road trip to back to Nebraska by way of West Virginia, Kentucky, and Indiana.  See you along the way.

                                                             Pablo 

Frack it....

Not unlike the practice of fishing by throwing a stick of dynamite into a lake, fracking (the process of hydraulically destabilizing the substructure of the earth's crust to release natural gasses) just doesn't seem like a good idea, in spite of what the overpaid scientific shills hired by the energy companies tell us.  This is not the place to learn more about the science of the thing, but to report on the upcoming gathering of rightfully concerned citizens of New York State who may get fracked in the not so far distant future and are not happy about it.  In fact on May 15, these concerned citizens are planning a mass rally on the west lawn of the capitol building, an outpouring of concern that is unprecedented around here in response to the potential horrors of an environmental issue.  You can squeeze only so much blood from a stone before it implodes, and the recent increase in global seismic activity may be related to the destabilization of the underpinnings of our terrestrial surface by human activity.  As I have said, we have developed the technology to destroy the planet, and are doing a damned good job of it.

                                Poster by Will Sweeney

 In my most recent Occupy Albany post, I lamented (possibly prematurely) the demise of the local Occupy movement, but maybe I was wrong, maybe it has morphed, as I hoped, into a more focused and issue related cause that has the potential of a real resolution/revolution, the banning of fracking in our state, and whatever else comes their opportunistic way.  If a picture can tell a thousand words, then the movement has gotten off to a great start.  The poster designed to alert us to the dangers, as well as the upcoming event is fantastic, revolutionary, even visionary,  and makes me look forward to the rally with great expectations.  The posters are prepped and ready for marching...

Indeed, photo proof positive of the beginning of a morph.   Here's hoping!!!

                                                                     Pablo

May Day, May Day!!! Occupy Albany...

May 1, 2012,  Albany, New York

                                                                           

May Day!!!  Day one of the 2012 season of occupying in Albany.  61 degrees, overcast, breezy, and the ground still quite wet and soggy in spots after a fairly steady rain last night.  After an almost non-existent opening day parade scheduled to begin at 12 noon, the afternoon rally and "teach in" beginning around 1 pm in Academy Park was also poorly attended.  Maybe 150 Occupiers, and and almost equal number of state and local police (I exaggerate, but not by much) and members of the press hoping for some action.  They were sorely disappointed, as were the rally organizers who had hoped for a larger and more enthusiastic turn out.  Fair weather anarchists???  Short attention span???  Apathy???  Hope this is not a barometer of things to come and that the warm weather will bring out the crowds as they have been reported to have turned out in other cities.  There does not seem to be the sense of inner city urban desperation here as elsewhere, and the turn out from the suburban "activists" was sparse.  Maybe if it was a Saturday...  Disinterest set in quickly and "the center did not hold" in spite of fervent calls to action by facilitators.  Photographically, it was a slow day as well.

                                                                         

                                David

                               George

                               A guy from the gay and lesbian group

Came home for a while for lunch, and will return to Academy Park for the hoped for big rally at 5 pm.   Everything is in place for a real protest. Will report back then.

Then:
Got back to the park at about 5:50.  58 degrees, overcast and there was a darkness of the spirit in the air.  Same 150 or less people were there.  Fewer cops and reporters.  Even they realized the air was out of the balloon.  Hung around for a few hours, till I couldn't take it any more and went home.  Got the feeling that this might be a last gasp for the Occupy Albany people.  Wasn't even thinking about them any more till I turned on the local news showing live shots of the last stragglers being arrested for refusing to leave the park after the 11:00 curfew.  A pathetic display of negative attention seeking behavior as PR stunt.   Civil disobedience for its own sake, or rather as a last gasp of relevance, an unmistakable sign of capitulation.  They were lucky that the local media had nothing better to do at the moment and aided and abetted the "movement" in perpetrating the perception that they went out with a bang rather than a whimper.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  Hope the coming of warm weather and summer vacation will bring out the fair weather friends of Occupy, and prove me wrong.

                                                                     

                                                                     Sadly,  Pablo

MOMAfreefriday....

Friday afternoons between 4-8pm, the Museum of Modern Art is free!!!  And there was a lineup all the way down 54th Street  to 5th Avenue and around the corner till I could no longer see all of my fellow free loading art lovers.   It was an unseasonable warm late March NYC afternoon, sunny,  in the mid 60s, and perfect for having to stand on a long line.   The crowd was mostly young and NY artsy,  and the special exhibits were alluring... Diego Rivera murals painted for MOMA 80 years ago, exhibited at the time and then stored away, to be "lost" or forgotten or disregarded or whatever, but were "found" and here they were, on exhibit seeing the light of day for the first time in 80 years and we were there to see them.  Big, beautiful flowing rivers of color and texture,  political, urgent and engulfing beyond words.  Rivera is the most important and under appreciated artist of the last hundred years, but he is Mexican after all, and an unapologetic socialist, so what should you expect from the culturally effete critics who we depend on to define our tastes.   But no photos allowed.

There was an Atget exhibit on the 3rd floor.  An old friend who is always nice and reassuring to see again, quiet, understated, and workmanlike, someone who never even considered himself an artist, and always an inspiration to an old photographer who is finding it increasingly hard to find the energy to get back in the dark room.  Someone who reaffirms my belief that photography is not so much art, as the process of documenting reality artistically.

And then there was the Cindy Sherman retrospective mentioned in the last entry.  A Long Island girl who has made it bigger than big.  375 photographs of herself in various guises and costumes and personas.  Creative early in her career, but one who becomes increasingly/irritatingly tedious, repetitive, and trite after a while, in spite of the many greatly oversized and overwrought later images that dominated the show, but she is described by some as one of the most important artists of the 20th century.  HUH????  One tepid photograph of herself, nothing I would want on my wall, recently sold at auction for 3.1 million dollars!!!  For a mundane photograph by contemporary artist???  Somehow I kind of understood it when a Gursky photo sold for 1 million a few years ago.  Just a photo, but it was spectacular.  But a Cindy Sherman image of herself???  I don't get it.  Was talking to the director of photography at an auction house in NYC recently and asked her about the 3.1 mil sale.  She said it was Cindy Sherman after all, did not seem perplexed, and looked at me like there was something wrong with me for not getting it.  Sorry for going on about it, but..

MOMA for free...But no photos allowed in the exhibits, so here is my take on free Fridays...Pretty cutting edge, huh???

I like it, but I didn't know how interesting it was till I got home.  The idea is good, but the execution could be a bit better.  I need another MOMAfreefriday soon.

                                                                  Pablo