Paddlefest 2023

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I’ve known of Ohio River Paddlefest for quite a while. I even planned to attend last year until severe weather convinced me — and everybody else — otherwise. Heavy storms led to the cancellation of several outdoor events including the 2022 Paddlefest. There wasn’t even a hint of foul weather this year and I finally made it to “the largest paddling event in the country” for the first time. I was not in position to see the launch of approximately 2000 participants into an Ohio River that was cleared of powered watercraft for the event but I did get to see many of them pass through Cincinnati’s riverfront.

I decided to park in Kentucky and use the century-and-a-half-old Roebling Bridge as an observation deck. People can choose to paddle either 4.5 or 9 miles from the launch point at Schmidt Recreation Complex at the east edge of Cincinnati. The pullout point for the shorter trip is the public landing near the coliseum. The big paddle wheeler at the landing is the American Heritage on her way to Pittsburgh. I don’t know whether being in town for Paddlefest was intentional or something they just couldn’t avoid. Also in that photo, the three ladies in the opening photo can be seen well past the landing on their way to the Roebling and my camera.

There was a race and I’m sure there was a winner but most participants seemed to be much more concerned with enjoying the float and maximizing rather than minimizing their time on the water. Some even took time to look up and wave or wrangle three boats together for a group selfie.

Shooting upriver at the approaching boats meant shooting into the sun but at some point, I realized that I could completely avoid any glare issues by shooting straight down. Snapping paddlers just before they disappeared under the bridge was actually quite addictive and I snapped a few more before I could pull myself away.

Not everything is ruined by shooting toward the sun. Some things actually look pretty good or so I convinced myself.

With the exception of some safety and patrol boats, these were probably the most powerful watercraft on the Ohio near Cincinnati throughout the morning. They did not flaunt it, however, and were well back in the pack.

Shortly after the big boats passed, I finished crossing the bridge and moved to the downstream side to return to Kentucky. Catching boats just as they popped out from under the bridge wasn’t nearly as easy as catching them just before they popped under it but I did catch one.

These are all a bit away from the bridge and moving slowly.

Back in Kentucky, I grabbed brunch and then headed to where the nine-mile paddle ended and where the wrap-up party was being held. For some reason, northbound I-71/75 was closed at the river. I didn’t figure that out until I was forced beyond it. I decided to just keep going and cross the river on the Anderson Ferry for a real break from the normal. The Miata got the first of two comments when the attendant collected my fare. “Nice change of pace. I have to reach up for every other car.”

The second comment came from a fellow directing traffic at the Gilday Recreation Complex. With a mostly straight face, he asked if I was there to pick up a 17-foot canoe. Lots of canoes and kayaks had already departed and many more were in the process of being loaded. But there were still plenty waiting in the park and even a few still on the river. The finish line was still in place when I arrived but it would soon be gone.

Madtree had a beer tent set up and there were several food trucks. The Sunburners provided some good Jimmy Buffet-style music and there were some Jimmy Buffet-style listeners too.

I had my doubts about the claims of this photo-op but a little research confirmed that the Gilday Complex really was the southernmost point of the Ohio River Paddlefest. And today it even felt kind of tropical.

Musical Review
Above the Sand
Mason Community Players

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When I wrote about my first visit to the Loveland Stage Company, I spoke of the guilt I felt for taking so long to take in a play there. The same sort of guilt surrounds my first time attending a Mason Community Players production. MCP is celebrating its 50th anniversary this year which means it is six years older than LSC. I suppose I could feel extra guilty for ignoring the Mason group even longer than the Loveland group but, although I’ve lived near Mason, I have never actually lived in Mason so feeling equal levels of guilt regarding my being late to the party at both theaters seems more or less OK.

But I also feel another kind of guilt regarding this review. I have no special or early access to plays so my infrequent reviews of them are often near or even after the end of their run when few or no performances remain. I always feel a little guilty about that. That feeling increases when the production is one I want to recommend because it’s extra good or somehow unique. All that is true of Above the Sand meaning I really feel guilty about the timing of this review.

Producing any play is an accomplishment. There are certainly some particular challenges in doing it with amateurs and volunteers and doing a musical must add even more. Performers need to be able to sing and maybe dance a bit, and musicians are needed to accompany them. Community theater productions will never be a match for well-financed Broadway companies but their audiences don’t expect them to be. When a community theater company produces a successful Broadway musical it can benefit from having one or more professional productions as examples without getting dinged for not having Barbra Streisand or Gregory Hines in the cast. The production I attended Thursday night had all of the listed challenges without one of the aids. Amateurs and volunteers did indeed sing and dance accompanied by offstage volunteers playing instruments but they were not copying from anyone. This was the world premiere of Above the Sand so there was no previous production to provide an example. This gang didn’t need one.

The premiere run ended on Saturday. Not knowing how long online information will remain available, I’ve taken the liberty of copying this short description from the Mason Players’ website:

Above the Sand is written and composed by MCP member Tom Davis. It tells of the challenges and triumphs of Wilbur and Orville Wright as they bring the power of flight to the world. The story takes the audience on a journey from a bicycle shop in Dayton, Ohio to Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, Washington, D.C., and Paris, France. Above the Sand is a piece of local history that has affected life around the world. It shines a light on the struggles of those who dream an idea into reality, then ultimately triumph.

As mentioned, any community theater production requires a lot of effort, and a musical production even more. That effort is not wasted with the script Tom Davis has created. With spoken words and lyrics, it touches all key points of the Wrights’ achievement. It avoids sounding like either a science or history lesson while being a little bit of both.

I’m always intrigued by how a single stage of limited size gets used to tell stories involving multiple locations that are sometimes huge spaces. That is another challenge that this production encounters and handles quite well despite not having a Broadway-sized budget. By flipping panels, hanging pictures, and swapping some furniture, the action moves between sand dunes, living rooms, workshops, France, England, and more. In a program note, director Lara Gonzalez talks of collaborating and creating “throughout the rehearsal process”. Much of the collaboration naturally involved Gonzalez and Davis but I’d be surprised if there wasn’t at least one idea contributed by every cast and crew member.

I’ll give a shout out to the actors portraying the Wright siblings although every member of the cast of nearly twenty turned in wonderful performances. Corey Meyer (Wilbur) has the least experience of the three younger Wrights although I certainly would not have known that without a program. Nico Morello (Orville) and Eva Bower (Katharine) have both been on stage quite a bit. I had sort of mentally tagged Eva as the most polished of the cast and learned that I could be right when I read that she was first on stage at age 9.

I have no idea what, if anything, comes next for Above the Sand. I know of no plans for future performances but I sure hope that there will be some. I was entertained Thursday night, and exposed to a little science and history too. I don’t believe any of the science or history facts were really new to me but some of the emotion was. I’ve read numerous articles and books about the Wright brothers and their early flights. I’ve watched more than a few documentaries too. None of them conveyed the sense of awe from the world at large that I witnessed Thursday night. Maybe it came from the music. Or maybe it came from the personal involvement that a live performance requires. At some level, I know I have considered that the existence of powered flight changed the basic way that an awful lot of people looked at the world but it had never registered as strongly with me as it did in that theater. Before December 1903, many people had considered it impossible; others thought it merely quite difficult. The first group was now indisputably proven wrong. The second group was proven right and no longer had to guess at just how difficult it was. It took some time for the news to circle the globe and even more time for some people to accept it but that did not alter the fact. Somehow a group of people singing about something they were witnessing offstage drove that home better than any words on a page or images on a screen. Hooray for music. Hooray for live theater. Hooray for man’s ability to progress and to be amazed at his own progress.

At Speed in Cincy

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History does repeat itself. In the early 1970s, I lived with my wife and two sons in a house with a driveway that sloped to a paved area in the back. That driveway was an ideal spot for the four-year-old to give his Big Wheel a workout. While I worked on something on a car behind the house, he repeatedly pushed the three-wheeler to the top of the hill so he could come rocketing down the hill, brace his feet on the pedals to stop the big front wheel, and throw the rear wheels into a perfect 180-degree slide. This was exactly what Big Wheels were designed for. After one of his countless slides, he looked up at me and made an incredibly insightful observation. “Dad”, he said, “I bet you wish you could do this.”

He was absolutely right. What he was doing looked like a fabulous amount of fun but I was too old. What I saw Saturday also looked like a fabulous amount of fun but I was once again too old. Fifty years ago, being too old meant being too big to fit into the seat. Yesterday it meant being too wheezy and too brittle.

This is Danger Wheel‘s eighth year but it was somehow kept a secret from me until I saw Citybeat’s 7 Things To Do in Cincinnati This Weekend article last Thursday. Realizing almost instantly that this was something special, I made plans to attend and found myself near the midpoint of the course about two hours before race time. There is a starting line at the top of the hill and a finish line at the bottom just like the Soapbox Derby I attended last week (At Speed in Akron). More history repeating itself I suppose.

The race takes place in the Pendleton neighborhood of Cincinnati which has two breweries and several really good restaurants. Food trucks are brought in for the event along with tents from breweries outside the neighborhood. I had no trouble filling the time until the competition started. I even had time to check out some of the racing teams and vehicles.

Of course, the two hours between my arrival and the first race also gave other spectators time to arrive and completely line the course. I did somehow manage to get close enough to the starting line to snap a picture of the launch of the first heat. When the starting horn sounds, two team members have ten feet to power the third member off the line.

These special built Huffy Green Machines have no onboard means of propulsion so you might think that once the starting line pushing ends, the race is exactly like a Soapbox Derby heat with drivers dealing with nothing but steering until gravity takes them over the finish line. You might think that but you would be really really wrong.

While spectators were packing in trackside, race organizers had placed ramps and speed bumps along the clear street I’d seen when I arrived. In addition, pelting racers with water balloons was a legitimate and quite popular means of fan participation. I overheard the starter suggest to a rookie that he close his face shield all the way because “those water balloons hurt like hell”.

I didn’t feel like forcing my way to the front or staying in one place long enough to move up through attrition assuming that was even possible. I could see some of the action fairly well but had no clear shot for photos. The closest I came to capturing any of the mayhem was this fuzzy shot. The picture at right shows a large video screen in the parking lot where most of the food trucks were. Live racing was shown on this screen and on screens inside most of the businesses in the area. The longest stretch of racing that I actually watched was inside one of the breweries while also enjoying some cool air and cold liquid.

I did not stay until the champion was crowned. Just like last week at the Soapbox Derby, I had no one to root for. The winner of each heat was announced but the names were meaningless to me and I did not pursue standings.

But I still consider it one of the coolest events I have ever attended in Cincinnati. It was absolutely great fun to watch but, once I understood that the helmets and padding were not just for show, I lost any desire to participate. I do still wish I could have spun that low-slung speedster around in the driveway fifty years ago, however.

At Speed in Akron

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In the closing paragraph of my post on the Golf Manor Grand Prix, I mentioned that I probably wouldn’t make it to the Cincinnati Soapbox Derby qualifier but might attend the season finale in Akron, Ohio. As it turns out, both conjectures turned out to be accurate. I missed the Cincinnati event but made it to the big show for the first time ever.

The very first All-American Soap Box Derby® took place in Dayton, Ohio, which is even closer to my home than Akron, but I did not attend. It was 1934. Things moved fast and the 1935 race was held on the streets of Akron with a permanent site, Derby Downs, being built by the next year. I was probably aware of the Derby as a child but it was not part of my world. I believe I first saw Soap Box racers in action within the last twenty years or so. By then, I was very much aware of the Derby and of just how big an event it was. More recently, I began to realize that if I was ever to witness what was an iconic happening in my home state I’d best be getting on with it.

The opening photo was taken when I arrived on Friday. There seems to be something going on all week but Saturday is the big day and the only one that requires a ticket. Super Kids events were taking place when I was there Friday. This is a program that allows physically and mentally challenged children to participate by having a helper ride with them.

A golf cart shuttle took me all the way to the top where I could see lots of cars being readied to race and could get a really good look at the whole track too.

Here’s something I was not even aware of when I left home. I spotted an announcement about this Vintage Derby Car Show in my Facebook feed when I stopped in Columbus for breakfast. Because the poster and I had a bunch of mutual friends, I correctly guessed we had a Route 66-related connection. I stopped in after leaving the track and enjoyed looking over the displays, including a replica of the winner of that inaugural 1934 race, and meeting Facebook friend Keith Lamb in real life. Keith won the Derby in 1979 and had his car on display but, although we stood and talked beside it for quite a while, I failed to get a picture. I did better with Keith and his wife. This was the second year for the event with a repeat next year almost certain.

Due to construction detours and bad planning (Mostly the latter.) I was late for opening ceremonies on Saturday. I could also try to blame the longer walk after parking. On Friday the field had just a few cars in a single row but was now almost full. I heard the national anthem as I neared the track and reached it just in time to see the Champions, who had apparently walked down the track as part of the ceremony, begin their walk up the track. The word “champion” was used a lot and in this case referred to all the competitors. In the act of qualifying for this event, each of them had become the champion of something.

In rather short order, a full day of non-stop racing would commence. These three pictures show cars at the start, somewhere mid-track, and crossing the finish line. Notice that the racers are virtually side by side in all three pictures. This was typical. Winning margins of 0.005 and 0.006 seconds were common. At least two races I watched were decided by 0.001 seconds. One of the later races ended in a dead heat requiring a two-car runoff. The biggest differential I noted was barely over 0.16 seconds.

All the cars in the previous set of photos are Stock Division racers with drivers between 7 a 13 years of age and no more than approximately 5’3″ tall and 125 pounds in weight. Cars in this pair of photos are Super Stock Division racers with drivers between 9 and 18 years of age, up to about 6’0″ tall, and weighing up to about 150 pounds. Incidentally, the distance between racers in the second picture is just about as big as it gets.

A third style of racer makes up the Masters Division. In these, the 10 to 20-year-old “more experienced” drivers essentially lay down in the cars with just the tops of their helmeted heads visible. Sometimes getting tucked in requires a little extra push from Dad.

Racers qualify for the international competition either by winning the Local Race nearest to their home or by winning a Rally Regional Title by earning points in multiple races. Both methods produce champions in all three divisions. The bulk of Saturday’s racing involved eliminating all but nine competitors in each of these six groups. A victory parade celebrated each group of finalists.

Each of those six groups of nine was arbitrarily divided into three heats of three. The winner of each heat would run with the winners of the other two heats to decide 1st, 2nd, and 3rd. Second-place racers would compete for 4th, 5th, and 6th while third-place racers would compete for 7th, 8th, and 9th. The range of times for each heat usually looked something like this where barely 5/100 of a second separated all three cars.

I was quite surprised by the nearly empty grandstandsbut eventually realized that unattached spectators like me were pretty scarce. Most people were there in support of a specific racer and had a home base established trackside. Of course, enthusiastic cowbell-equipped fans could be found anywhere.

The Goodyear Blimp is hangared at an airport right beside Derby Downs so there would occasionally be things overhead to watch or be watched by and there was still plenty of action on the track but I had no one to root for. At the start of the day, I had identified two competitors from Cincinnati but both were eliminated in the first round. I then moved my support to a racer named Gibson. She made it to the final nine but when she lost her bid for first, I headed home. Great fun and I later learned that the Gibson kid won her last heat to earn a 4th place to bring honor to the family name.

Book Review
Southern Ohio Legends & Lore
James A. Willis

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I met James Willis in March at the first-ever Frogman Festival which I reported on here. In fact, his “Frogman of Loveland, Ohio” presentation was one of the main festival attractions for me even though I almost expected to be disappointed by it. One reason for that was just my general skepticism of all things paranormal related but I also felt I had reason to be skeptical of Mr. Willis specifically. An online bio utilized for the festival begins with “Not since the Headless Horseman went charging through Sleepy Hollow has something come out of the Hudson Highlands of upstate New York as thrilling and chilling as author and paranormal researcher James A. Willis.” That struck me as rather pompous and I more or less anticipated an arrogant fellow demanding I believe in spooks and oversized frogs because he said so. That was not at all what I got, however.

Willis is not exactly timid or unsure of himself but his confidence is solidly backed up by knowledge. He is a long way from arrogant and even farther away from pompous. His presentation did not focus on how weird and mysterious a creature referred to as a “frogman” was but on verifiable facts behind the stories about it. I enjoyed his talk so much that I sought him out when it was over to buy this book containing more stories about my area of Ohio.

As its back cover tells us, Southern Ohio Legends & Lore is filled with “scary, mysterious and just plain weird stories” but Willis’ telling of those stories is, just like his festival presentation, replete with verifiable facts. I do not mean to imply that Willis solves every mystery or debunks every myth. There is a section titled “The Unexplained” and there are plenty of questions that remain unanswered in other sections as well. But those questions are not unanswered due to a lack of trying and I’m fairly confident that no known explanation is intentionally omitted. In addition, Willis does not resort to hyperbole or loaded language to make the stories scarier, more mysterious, or weirder than they already are,

The stories are divided into six sections: “Ghostly Legends”, “Legendary Characters”, “Legendary Villians”, “Legendary Places”, “The Unexplained”, and “Legendary Events”. Having lived my entire life in southern Ohio, I was already at least somewhat familiar with most of them. There are exceptions including all four “Ghostly Legends”. It is the only section where every story is new to me and it is the only section dealing more or less directly with possibly supernatural phenomena. I’m thinking those two facts might very well be related. I’m also thinking that this is the right place to mention that Willis is the founder and director of the paranormal research group The Ghosts of Ohio. I find it somehow reassuring that this is also the only section where that comes into play and even here there is no straying from the “verifiable facts” approach.

I don’t believe I learned anything new about any of the “Legendary Characters” but I appreciate the concise and complete descriptions. Willis’ reporting on John Symmes and his hollow earth theory is among the most even-handed and comprehensive I’ve read. Likewise, his tale of “Legendary Villian” George Remus where I did learn a few details for the first time.

“Legendary Places” combines a place I had never heard of (Athens Pentagram) with three that I am quite familiar with. That somehow makes it my favorite section. One of the three familiar places, the Loveland Castle, was the subject of a blog post here just last fall. “The Unexplained” includes the Loveland Frog that had been my introduction to James Willis. Three major disasters including the 1979 Who concert tragedy appear in “Legendary Events”. All are certainly legendary and make for interesting reading but do not really seem scary, mysterious, or weird.

Maybe I did not learn about a bunch of new places to visit or encounter shocking revelations about people or places not new to me but I did learn that James A. Willis is a stubborn researcher and a straight-shooting reporter even if he doesn’t seem as chilling as a headless horsemen. Those who have not spent three-quarters of a century in southern Ohio will almost certainly be able to expand their list of places to visit or add to the stock of stories they share with friends.  

Even I have added something connected to this book to my schedule. Another of the “Legendary Places” with which I am familiar is the site where three nineteenth-century attempts to establish Utopia failed. I read the chapter on Utopia while out to breakfast then, within minutes of returning home, I was presented with an online advertisement for Utopia: A New Musical premiering in a couple of weeks. I immediately bought a ticket because that is most definitely “just plain weird”.

Southern Ohio Legends & Lore, James A. Willis, The History Press (August 15, 2022), 6 x 9 inches, 144 pages, ISBN  978-1467151115
Available through Amazon.

My Memories — Chapter 4
Denny’s Drums

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The Rogers drum show I recently attended brought back memories of my one and only visit to the factory in Covington. Ohio. I was there to pick up a very small but personally awe-inspiring drum kit. I have one advantage over any real drummers who set out to describe their gear. I don’t have to select a few significant pieces from a long list of equipment used over a long career. I have owned just three sets of drums in my life, and two of them are in the picture at right. I am not in the picture although someone who has appeared in this blog is. Lifelong friend Dale Baird, whom I’ve mentioned in tales of cars and mopeds, is at stage left of the front row.

The picture of the high school stage band is from my senior yearbook. I was in the regular marching and concert band but not in the stage band. I was never asked, which I attributed to my already being a little too much rock and roll. However, since the school did not own a trap kit, my drums were asked to join. When the picture was taken, I no longer owned the Slingerlands on the photo’s right but did own the Rogers on the left.

Of course, real drummers also have many advantages over me. One of them is photos. The stage band shot is the only one I’ve found of either of those kits. Because I’m absent in that picture, I’m including this one from the same yearbook. I’m on the photo’s left side next to the drums. Dave Thornhill, seated at the Rogers in the stage band photo, is on the other side of the drums. At the photo’s far right of that row is Ed Van Vickle who was seated at (and I believe owned) the Slingerlands.

I bought the Slingerland kit from one of Dad’s coworkers. I don’t recall what I paid or the seller’s name but do recall that his offer to replace his initials with mine on the bass drumhead helped clinch the deal. The aging Slingerlands got me into my first band where I played standing up. That was partly because that’s what future McCoy Randy Zerhinger did and partly because I couldn’t afford a drum throne. I didn’t really need to sit down because I couldn’t afford a hi-hat either.

Memories of the next purchase were initially awakened a few months ago when I discovered the order at right. The drum show stirred them up considerably. The “Drums + equipment” covered by the bill was a blue sparkle three-piece set with no stands. There was a bass-mounted rod for a ride cymbal and both the single tom and the snare were mounted on the bass with Swivomatic ball joints. Swivomatic snare mounts were not unheard of (Here‘s one at the Covington show.) but were typically used on standup “cocktail” kits. I have never seen another bass-mounted snare like the one I had.

The detail at left is taken from the yearbook photo in an attempt to show this unusual arrangement. I don’t recall whether I chose the bass mount because it was cheaper than a stand or because I just thought it was cool. I will note that being so close to the factory made custom orders like this rather easy. It also made it possible to pick up orders there. It seems like I’ve forgotten a lot about the experience but I remember a fair amount too.

The guy from the Greenville Piano Salon (Eugene Brown?) picked me up (probably at school) in the store’s station wagon. I’m thinking 1960 Chevrolet but am far from certain. At the factory, we chatted briefly with someone I think was the plant manager. Since then, I’ve often wondered if that could have been Rogers and Covington legend, Joe Thompson. There was a set of drums in the office which I thought made it the coolest job in the world.

Somewhere along the way — probably even before I made the upgrade — I’d sprung for a throne and hi-hat. I played those blue drums through high school and the summer following graduation. As I wrote this, I recalled coming across that bass head cover a few years ago and I took a look inside a box marked “mementos”. There it was, a reminder that I need to empty that box pretty soon and of some good times in years gone by. The Coachmen was the group that Randy Hobbs left to join the McCoys and which I joined in the reorganization following his departure.

After sitting idle through my freshman year of college, the blue Rogers saw some action during the summer then went silent again. But I guess I had decided I really wanted to play so it wasn’t too long before, in addition to all the other stuff going on — new wife and challenging classes, I accepted a former bandmate’s invitation to join his new group. I had outgrown the little kit with the bass-mounted snare and traded them in on my second and final set of new Rogers. These weren’t custom ordered from the factory but were still made to be just a little bit different. A common arrangement has two mounted toms of differing sizes. 12 and 13 inches were popular. A friend was playing in a band with a drummer who used two same-size toms with one just tuned a bit higher. I thought that looked cool. As I negotiated the purchase, I said I’d like two 13s rather than a 12 and a 13. I really expected this to be instantly shot down but it wasn’t. Without even attempting to change the agreed-upon price, the salesman swapped the 12-inch tom from the set I was buying for the 13-inch tom of a matching set. Whatever sense of uniformity I had was gone when I added a completely mismatched Gretch bass that I picked up really cheap. I guess it seemed like a good idea at the time. The marriage lasted just a couple years longer than the band and the black oyster (and white) drums were sold during the financial maelstrom of the divorce. My sporadic run at rock stardom was at an end. Rogers, over and out.

Although the title of the post is a near-perfect fit, it’s not the least bit original. I know it from the name of a track on an early Beach Boys album that I used to try to copy as a teenager. I suspect I’m not the only one to remember this Denny’s Drums.

 

Happy 247th

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There are twenty “Underrated Attractions in Cincinnati” identified in the CityBeat article that motivated me to visit the Lucky Cat Museum last week. With that museum visit, I could count thirteen of the twenty as things I have seen. There are a few more that I will probably get to before long and a couple of others that I have little interest in. I thought it highly unlikely that I would ever experience one listed attraction despite being interested in it very much. “Stricker’s Grove“, the article said, “is closed to the public…”. It could be rented for private events but, unless I could get myself invited to somebody’s company picnic, it seemed I was out of luck.

Then, barely a week after the CityBeat article appeared, I saw another article announcing that the park would be open to the public on July 4th. I had, I now realized, stopped reading that opening sentence too soon. “Stricker’s Grove is closed to the public for most of the year”, is what it really said. It is actually open to all on a handful of days each year and Independence Day is one of them.

But the amusement park next to cornfields and a two-lane state highway would not open until 2:00 o’clock. I filled the morning and put myself in the general area by attending the Fourth of July parade in Hamilton, Ohio.

This parade was significantly different from the only other parade I recall attending in Hamilton. That was the Short, Sweet, Wet, and Irish inaugural Saint Patrick’s Day parade held earlier this year. That parade had just one fire engine and, with a route length of approximately 575 feet, barely had room for it. This parade route was well over two miles long with several fire department vehicles including a couple of real classics.

The Corvettes and firetrucks did not surprise me but the low riders did. And it wasn’t just one or two. The number of these incredibly tricked-out cars rivaled the number of Corvettes and they jumped higher, too.

I was also surprised by this group’s presence. They had already passed me when the word “militia” caught my eye. I snapped this belated photo then looked up The Last Militia at the end of the day. They describe themselves as “a preparedness organization that focuses on the needs of families during times of strife” and dispute their classification as an antigovernment movement by the Southern Poverty Law Center. Their camouflage-patterned vests display the motto, Molṑn Labé. Greek for “Come and take them”, the phrase is often considered an expression of defiance but in this case is probably just an invitation to avail oneself of some of the bottled water pictured on their website.

I had no trouble Identifying the hot air balloon burner and gondola in the bed of this truck but sorting out the headgear took a bit longer. Only when I saw the Hops in the Hangar sign did I realize they are foam-topped beer mugs.

Getting inside the structure behind the four-foot flame was a bonus. I am fairly familiar with the Butler County Soldiers, Sailors and Pioneers Monument from the outside but had never been inside. It is even more impressive than I anticipated. Built on the site of the original Fort Hamilton, it honors all county residents who served in wars fought before its construction in 1902. Non-military pioneers are also recognized on the second floor. Original stained glass copies of the seals of the State of Ohio and the Grand Army of the Republic are opposite each other on the first floor.

Even larger stained glass windows on the second floor honor Civil War nurses and mothers. A clear glass window provides a wonderful view of the Great Miami River.

This is the place the day was organized around. Stricker’s Grove opened at 2:00 with the rides beginning at 3:00. Admission is free. Parking is $5. The pictured pavilion filled with picnic tables is just inside the park. There are also lots of tables outside the pavilion. Picnicking is not just tolerated; it is encouraged. The one-hour lag between opening and the rides firing up might actually be part of that encouragement. Reasonably priced food is available for anyone not packing a cooler at home. I had actually started the day thinking of a place to eat but when I learned of the parade I had just enough time to drive directly there. I now had time for breakfast — mett $4, chips $1, pink lemonade $2. Hotdogs were available for $2 and a 14 once draft beer for $4.

Eating was not the only thing available for filling in that rideless hour. A couple of Skee Ball areas and a large arcade filled with video games and pinball machines were in full swing as were other games of skill.

The rides had been operating for a while by the time I made it to the midway and purchased tickets. The best deal was clearly the $20 armband that let you ride anything all day. Single tickets were $2.50 or 5 for $10 or 20 for $25. That last option only makes sense if the tickets were to be shared by multiple riders. The only thing I really cared about riding was the Tornado roller coaster which was one of the very few rides, or possibly the only ride, that required three tickets. $7.50 seemed like a lot for one ride so I went for the five-ticket deal which made it seem like a bargain. It was then that I saw the coaster in motion for the first time ever but I decided not to get in the line just yet.

I had already decided to start off with a ride on the train (1 ticket) thinking it might give me a better feel for the park layout. Disappointingly, it did not go through the park but around its periphery of which corn and the Great Miami River are major components. It did give me a different view of the Tornado, however.

With the train ride behind me, it was time to join the queue at the Tornado. Reportedly there has been only one man in the United States to build his own roller coaster That man was Ralph Stricker and this is that coaster. Al Collins designed it and Stricker built it between November 1990, and June 1993.

The line was fairly long but it moved with reasonable speed. I used to ride roller coasters quite a bit but it has been a while. It felt good to climb into the car and start through that first slow curve past that corn. Being “homemade” and all, I kind of expected this to be a little wimpy. Not so. It was a good ride and all the coaster this old man needed. Nicely done Ralph and Al.

I used my one remaining ticket on another ride with a view. The extra fallout protection blocked the view to some degree but I could still see the corn and some people seem to always find a way to live life on the edge.

I submit these pictures not as examples of good fireworks photography but as evidence that I did expose myself to Independence Day pyrotechnics as required of all U.S. citizens. Fireworks were scheduled at Stricker’s Grove but I left long before that happened. I watched these from the parking lot across from King’s Island. Note that I live close enough to the park to hear these every night. The structure at the right edge of the first photo is the Drop Tower which I assume was closed during the fireworks.

The show also included the synchronized drones that the park introduced during last year’s 50th-anniversary celebration. I reported on my first viewing of them here. Formations not shown here included the Liberty Bell, the Statue of Liberty, and more. A good con man might be able to convince you that the lights in the middle of the map are there to mark King’s Island’s location but they are really lights on the replica Eiffel Tower standing between the camera and the drones.

Lucky Cat Museum

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I am not a cat person but I am a museum person. I suppose those two facts have been quietly duking it out in my head since I first heard of the Lucky Cat Museum several years ago. The museum is in Cincinnati and it is unusual which are both strong come-ons for me but it had no regular hours. Visiting it was by appointment only which, combined with that “not a cat person” thing, kept me away. I am not at all an ailurophobe but my interest in seeing a collection of things is not at its highest when those things are cats. A recent Citybeat article brought it back to my attention and an online sign-up system for visits solved the appointment issue. I finally paid a visit to all the lucky cats and their keeper, Micha Robertson, and I am so glad I did.

Before arriving at the museum, I read several online descriptions. The earliest talk of “over 700” cats. Some that are a bit more recent say “at least 1000”. The latest guess I found was from 2019 and that guess was “over 2000”. It doesn’t take much time inside the museum to realize just how ridiculously safe that estimate is. As with many large collections, there is a point following the initial exposure when you are struck by the sheer size of the display or the number of items it contains. That certainly happened with me and the Lucky Cat Museum. Not surprisingly, that is something I failed to capture with the camera but maybe these three photos will provide some sense of just how many items are on display.

I’m always reluctant to call a number on a locked museum door or dive into “by appointment” arrangements partly because I’m uncomfortable having someone make any effort for the benefit of just one person. The online system for the Lucky Cat Museum allows just six participants in each tour and shows how many openings are in each slot. I had picked a slot with just two or three openings to avoid being the only person taking up Robertson’s time but it didn’t work out that way. All the others cancelled so I had the benefit of a one-on-one tour without any feelings of guilt. The tour began with some background information. Lucky Cats are more properly known as Beckoning Cats or Maneki Neko in Japanese. They have probably been around since the 1600s but first appeared in print in 1852.

My attention was then directed to some of the “…est” items in the museum. The oldest is a long ago repurposed zushi from the 1800s. The smallest is the tiny kitten on a wire. The miniature toy shop is neither the oldest nor the smallest (although the tiny maneki neko it contains is pretty darned small) but it is probably the one most at home in a Cincinnati setting. It was purchased in 1929 by Cincinnatians visiting Japan.

There are naturally plenty of “Don’t Touch” signs among the many rare and fragile items on display but there are several hands-on items as well. One is a coin-operated cat that meows (we think) in Japanese and says some other things too. The slot machines have been converted from coins to tokens as required after being retired from Japanese casinos.

This sneaky fellow and his identical twin did charm me out of a few coins and, yes, others have placed videos online if you care to look.

It should not come as a surprise that some of the cats have found work in advertising or that their manufacture has expanded beyond Japan or even China. All the cats in the second photo were made in Spain by Lladro.

In my pre-visit poking around, I had seen references to “the cat that saved a train station” but had not pursued them. The claim turns out to be 100% true and the story well worth reading. Tama, the cat, was instrumental in keeping a Japanese train station open after it was scheduled to be shut down. With the official title of Station Master, she took her salary in cat food.

By this point, I was well aware that I was in the presence of someone with an encyclopedic knowledge of her subject but Robertson’s answer to a question about the box-headed cats drove it home. The tour was a combination of Robertson pointing out things of interest and me asking questions about random objects. In both cases, she provided in-depth details straight from her memory. The box-headed cats come from a Japanese cartoon that Robertson knew the name and history of. I just wish I could remember what she said. I had earlier been impressed by learning that she taught herself enough Japanese to survive in online auctions.

The cat in the opening picture wasn’t always glittering with a skin of mirrors. It has led a pretty rough life which is documented in the discs hanging next to it. In 2010, while on loan to the Krohn Conservatory for its Japanese butterfly exhibit, it was dropped in the last days of the exhibit. Damage also occurred in 2014 and 2018. On one occasion it was dropped by Micha’s husband but I don’t recall what the other accident was and I don’t remember which was which. Repairs were made every time with the mirrored surface apparently appearing in 2014. With that sort of history, I suppose some might question whether or not Disco Cat deserves a spot in a Lucky Cat Museum but I don’t. Sometimes Beckoning Cats bring luck to their owners and sometimes it’s the other way around. There is an awful lot of the latter going on here.

SunWatch Summer Fest 2023

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There is a spot just a few miles southwest of Dayton, OH, where a village stood many centuries ago. Archeologists have determined that a cluster of tall posts stood near the center of the village and believe those posts were used in astronomical observations, especially observations involving our sun. Because of that, they call the site SunWatch Village.

There is now a museum at the site and a few of the village structures have been recreated. The outlines of others are marked by short posts where taller posts that were part of the structures once stood. The first picture at left is of a model inside the museum that is meant to represent the entire village. The second picture is of the actual site as seen from the large deck behind the museum. In the second picture, the tall poles can be seen just to the right of the skeleton building.

The northern hemisphere’s summer solstice, that instant when it hits its peak tilt toward the sun, occurred last Wednesday. Assuming that the scientists are correct about those poles, that would certainly have been a major event for SunWatch Village’s original inhabitants. It seems quite reasonable to think they might have held some sort of celebration to recognize the longest day of the year. Although no one lives there these days, there are people responsible for the site and they may very well have also wanted to celebrate the summer solstice when it happened but they couldn’t. Sadly, sometime in the last 800 or so years, somebody invented the work-week so most of our celebrating now gets put off until the weekend. Something called Summer Fest took place on Saturday, June 24, the third full day of summer. Summer solstice falls on a Friday next year so Summer Fest and the first full day of summer can align.

A level and well-graded path leads through the site with numerous signs explaining what you are looking at as well as providing some general archeological information.

Here is a closer look at the group of extra-tall poles. The original poles were charred at the base to help prevent decay and remove insects. That helped archeologists not only locate the poles but estimate their height. A sign at the hut across the way explains that the shadow of the tallest pole would fall on its hearth on the winter solstice.

The interior of the thatched hut offers some idea of how it might have looked when occupied. The hearth’s alignment with the tall pole can also be seen from inside.

Book Review
Philippines, Palau, and Guam – Fine Art Travel Photography
Matt Cohen

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In the prologue of Philippines, Palau, and Guam, Matt Cohen says he considered but discarded the idea of organizing the book along the lines of the Philipines’ four ‘B’s — basketball, beauty contests, boxing, and beaches. I guess that was on my mind as I scanned it for the first time and found myself registering three ‘C’s — color, culture, and composition.

That last ‘C’, composition, is an obvious element of all photographs. Sometimes composing a photograph really means physically posing the subjects and I don’t doubt that there was some of that employed here. But I believe that most of Cohen’s composing consisted of positioning the camera and framing subjects he had limited, if any, control over. Mountains and buildings never move in response to a photographer’s instructions and the same is often true of people. In some cases, composing continues after the shutter clicks with selective cropping and such and Cohen seems to be adept at this as well. Given the book’s title, it is probably also obvious that culture has a big role. One of the attractions of these islands is the fact that their culture is different than that of mainland USA and one of Cohen’s goals was to document those differences. The bulk of his photos contain some aspect of island culture. That island culture is filled with color is pretty obvious too. The most common sources are brightly colored food and clothing but bright splashes are frequently supplied by the land itself.

Although it is not presented as such, the book really is a travelogue of sorts. Most if not all of the travel photos were taken during a single extended trip taken by the author and his wife in early 2023. After deciding not to use the four ‘B’s as organizing tools, Cohen went with a fairly straightforward geographical organization. The Philippines gets three chapters covering the three areas where they spent the most time. These are Manila, North Luzon, and Cebu/Bohol. Palau and Guam each get their own chapter. Each chapter begins with an actual postcard that the Cohens mailed to themselves from the region covered by the chapter accompanied by a brief description of the region. A map, with locations of interest marked, follows.

The chapters are then filled with pictures of people, places, and things accompanied by text ranging from a few words to a few paragraphs. Most questions I had when first encountering a photo were answered in nearby text. The places pictured range from mountains to markets. Things range from colorful new balloons offered for sale to an abandoned Japanese tank slowly being claimed by foliage. People include unnamed workers, islanders in native dress, a mayor, a governor, a president, and a would-be bride left at the altar.

Had I really wanted to include a fourth ‘C’ in my list of components, I guess I could have used cockfighting. I was surprised and maybe even a little shocked to come across two photos of fighting cocks in the book. The photos are not particularly graphic but they nonetheless gave me pause. At the end of that pause, I accepted them as part of the documentation of a culture and a reminder that not every aspect of every culture — most definitely including our own — is pleasant.

Philippines, Palau, and Guam includes an appendix where Cohen provides more technical information on the photos and even shares the itinerary of the trip that produced them. The book is self-published and at present the best way to learn how to acquire it is to contact the author through his website at MattCohenTravelPhotography.com. I will update this review when other information becomes available.