Stone of the Dawn

Playing around with Google Earth, I realized that Atlanta, Georgia is halfway between Miami, Florida and Detroit, Michigan. If you jumped on I-75 South in Detroit heading to Miami, by the time you passed through Michigan, Ohio, Kentucky and Tennessee and finally arrived in Atlanta, you'd only be halfway toward your destination.

I realized this because my cumulative walking mileage for 2024, expressed as a straight line, would extend from my Atlanta home to the suburbs north of Detroit, beyond Grosse Point and St. Clair Shores all the way up to West Bloomfield. To the south, it would extend all the way to Miami Beach. To the west, the line would extend past Fort Smith, Arkansas and well into the Choctaw and Cherokee Nations in Oklahoma. 

I have several different walking routes I use to reduce potential boredom. Yesterday, I took a nearly 7-mile walk through my and adjacent neighborhoods, looping together parts of the Beltline and Memorial Park paths. The latter took me along Woodward Way, where I saw some of the devastation caused by Helene firsthand.

It was sobering to see how close some the really significant damage came to my own home, which was unscathed by the hurricane. Friday morning, from the shelter of my hotel room near Winder, I saw the police and fire departments use inflatable rafts to rescue residents along Woodward Way stranded in their homes by floodwater from Helene. Yesterday, while on my walk, I immediately recognized some of those homes from the news footage. The houses themselves didn't seem to suffer any structural damage, although I saw many of the residents emptying the contents of their garages and ground floors onto their lawns and driveways to help dry out their houses. There were many vacuum and carpet-cleaning contactors in front of the homes helping to rid them of residual floodwater and the mud and silt left behind by the storm.

There were many trees down, some probably knocked over by the winds, but more apparently downed to the floodwaters or streambank erosion along Peachtree Creek. Mud and silt all over the sidewalk and road were a good indicator of how high the floodwaters got as Peachtree Creek crested at record height. 

I was able to play amateur sedimentologist as I walked. Still, quiet floodwaters deposit a layer of fine silt and mud after a flood, but moving, rushing water can move larger, coarser-grained sand and gravel. Peachtree Creek normally flows through a channel about 5 to 10 feet below the surrounding land, but when the creek crested a over 20 feet it jumped the channel and spilled over onto the surrounding property. In addition to all the mud and silt, I was surprised to see deposits of sand up above the stream channel, indicating that the flow had enough energy to lift the sand up out of the channel and onto the surrounding plain. Even more surprising, some of the sand beds left behind had ripple marks on the surface, which indicated that the water flowing outside of the channel had enough speed and velocity and was around long enough to shape the deposits. Ask a geologist to explain if you don't follow the significance.

But in any event, beyond being a smug, smart-ass amateur sedimentologist, I was struck by the suffering and hardships the residents were dealing with. To be sure, Woodward Way is an affluent neighborhood and I strongly doubt any of the residents weren't fully insured and financially capable of dealing with the storm's effects. But that wasn't the case everywhere hit by Helene. The storm left over 100 dead in Florida, Georgia, Tennessee and the Carolinas and may turn out to be one of the most damaging hurricanes in U.S. history.

The hardest hit areas were in western North Carolina, where the mountainous terrain forced the record rainfall into torrential floods along the valleys. At least 30 deaths occurred in Asheville's Buncombe County alone, and roads are washed out, including a portion of I-40. Cellphone, power and water service is disrupted, and rescuers still haven't been able to get to some of the most remote areas affected. 

As I said, I was spared - no flooding, no fallen trees, and no power loss at my home - but it was a whole other story less than a mile away, and far, far more tragic in neighboring states.

The Clear Streams

 

My blood pressure has returned to "normal" - 111/71 this morning. It must have been the stress from Hurricane Helene coupled with shitty road food (Chick Fil A and hotel breakfast buffet) that spiked my pressure up into the "elevated" range. I'm not going back on the meds.

I'm actually surprised my blood pressure's not higher after watching last night's barnburner of a football game between Georgia and Alabama. Alabama won by 7, but Georgia rallied back from a 28-point deficit, took a one-point lead with 2:30 left to play, and even got the ball to the Alabama 20-yard line with 1:35 left before QB Carson Beck threw an interception, his third of the night, that ended the game.

Meanwhile, a broad area of low pressure currently located over the western Caribbean is producing disorganized showers and thunderstorms. Environmental  conditions appear conducive for gradual development and a tropical depression could form around the middle of next week as the disturbance meanders towards the west-northwest. The system is then expected to move northwestward into the Gulf of Mexico during the latter portion of this week where it could pick up further strength. It's too early to tell where when and where - or even if - it makes landfall.

Another hurricane is obviously the last thing the American South needs right now. The USGS stream gauge on Peachtree Creek has returned to normal stage at 3.16 feet after cresting at a major flood stage of 23.75 feet at 8:00 a.m. Friday morning, beating the record (23.70 feet) set in 2009. But the groundwater level's probably still pretty high, limiting the amount of additional rainfall the ground can absorb before the creek starts flooding again. Go somewhere else, unnamed area of low pressure over the western Caribbean.

The Oblong Web

At a doctor's direction, I started taking home blood pressure readings on a daily basis back on July 27, 2023. The doctor didn't tell me to keep doing it indefinitely but I did, taking a reading first thing every morning ever since. The only gaps in my record were last March, when I went up to Knoxville for Big Ears, and last Thursday, when I holed up in a hotel room near Winder, Georgia to ride out Hurricane Helene.

Based on my readings, I can confidently state that the various medications the doctor prescribed for my blood pressure (Lisinopril, and 25- and 50-mg Losartan) didn't make any statistical difference in my blood pressure. But my exercise and diet regimen since last April have had a profound effect on my blood pressure, lowering my average systolic pressure from a Stage 2 hypertensive 140 mm Hg to a "normal" 108 (diastolic pressure dropped from 84 to 71). 

Based on those results, I quit taking the meds back on September 5 and kept up at the exercise and diet. My blood pressure barely changed. My average blood pressure since last April while exercising, dieting, and taking 50 mg of Losartan was 110/69; my average since September 5 on just exercise and diet alone was 108/70. 

Until today. This morning, my blood pressure was 125/78, still a good reading but technically in the "elevated" (but not "hypertensive") range. It was my first reading above the "normal" level of 120/80 since June 1.

I don't know if this morning's higher reading was due to remaining stress over this week's Hurricane Helene, although one would think that the profound relief I experienced when I got back home and found my house undamaged and still with power would have negated any effects from the previous 48 to 72 hours of tension and suspense. It's worth noting that the last "elevated" reading back on June 1 was the morning after a visit to the urologist, a source of tension if ever there was one.

This morning's "elevated" reading may be due to a change in diet in the previous 24 hours. On the road Thursday, I ate fast food (Chick Fil A) for the first time since last March, and yesterday morning, I loaded up on the hotel's breakfast buffet (eggs, potatoes, sausage, and biscuits), not knowing if the food home in my fridge had spoiled or not. Was that sudden fix of starch, fat, and sugar enough to bump my blood pressure up from Wednesday's 108/69 to today's 125/78, or was the lack of medication finally catching up to me after three weeks?

Of course, this morning's reading may be perfectly normal, statistically. My average readings since dropping the meds was 108/70, but my maximum reading during that period was 117/75 and the standard deviation was 6 (systolic) and 2 (diastolic). The standard deviations during the longer, six-month period of diet, exercise and medication were 11 and 4. In other words, a reading like today's 125/78 may not be a statistical anomaly, especially considering the previous two days of stress, poor diet and limited exercise.

I'm not going back on the meds. . . yet. I will keep taking my daily morning blood-pressure readings like I have for over a year now and see whether the results drop back into the "normal" range or if they stay elevated. If the latter, I'll resume taking the medication (which the doctor reduced from 50 to 25 mg). In either case, I'll keep on going with the diet and exercise.     

The Breathing Hills

 

As it turns out, Helene wasn't without some modicum of kindness. Although all storm projections had her tracking from the Florida Coast, where she made landfall east of Tallahassee as a Category 4 hurricane, and rapidly traveling north straight toward Atlanta, instead she tacked somewhat eastward and crossed into South Carolina somewhere north of Augusta.

For some reason, storm-force winds are stronger on the east side of hurricanes, and tornados are more likely to spawn on the east side of a hurricane than the west. Atlanta was on the favorable west side, and was spared the fullest force of the storm.

Not that we didn't have torrential rains, flash flooding, and downed trees. We did. But I live in a pile of bricks up on a hill and it would take a deluge of Biblical proportions to flood my home, and not even the east side of Helene dropped that much water. But we still did get 11.12 inches of rain in the past two days, and Peachtree Creek and its tributaries jumped their banks and rapidly spread over low-laying areas. Some people in homes just a mile away from me had to be rescued by police in inflatable rafts when floodwaters entered their homes and cut off their route to escape. 

I rode the storm out in a hotel near Winder, Georgia, closer to the storm's actual path but still west of the eye. When I got home today, no trees had fallen on my pile of bricks, and my power was still on. The clocks weren't even flashing, indicating that there wasn't even a short outage or significant surge.

I can't claim I stuck with my diet during the whole Helene affair. Yesterday, driving east to avoid what everyone thought was the probable path, I stopped at a Chick Fil A for my first fast food since last March. I had a premade Publix' turkey sandwich for dinner last night, and gorged on the hotel's buffet breakfast (cheese omelet, home fries, sausage, and biscuit) for breakfast, not knowing if the food in my fridge would still be edible when I got back home (it was). But after six months of strict dieting - and loss of 45 pounds - I think I could allow myself a one-off, emergency splurge.

I have stuck to my alternating walking and meditation schedule, though. Wednesday, a walking day, I got in 5.6 miles before the rain started (and that rain didn't stop until about 10:00 am this morning). I was shooting for one more mile, but turned away due to the weather. Yesterday, a sitting day, I got 90 minutes of meditation in my hotel room, sitting, as best I could, on a small chair in the room. Today, I went for a walk after I got back home, but the floodwaters blocked my path as I got near a tributary to Peachtree Creek, and managed only 3.7 miles, my shortest walk since May 12. I did see this unusual phenomenon in the floodwaters, though.

Last Day of the Western Isles

More mysteries of the Universal Solar Calendar: Yesterday was Last Day of Quest, ending a period that began on August 31. Today is the Last Day of the Western Isles, ending a period that began on August 30. Apparently, residency on the Western Isles was two days longer than the Quest.

Heavy rains are falling in Georgia from Hurricane Helene, but the high winds aren't expected until late night tonight or even dawn tomorrow morning. In any event, I cut and ran and am writing this from a hotel room in Winder, Georgia. 

If that name sounds familiar to you, Winder is the town that contains Apalachee High, where a student gunman killed two teachers and two fellow classmates earlier this month. That wasn't my reason for choosing Winder for my hotel, though. It just seemed far enough from the center line of the storm track to avoid the highest winds, but close enough that I can quickly swoop back home once things clear up a bit to assess the damage. In any event, my Atlanta home is on ground zero for the storm track, and there's way too many tons of pinewood towering over my house for me to feel comfortable staying there for the duration of this storm.

There were torrential rains yesterday, but fortunately the rainfall let up a little after midnight so I was able to get some sleep last night. I left Atlanta about noon today in a light but steady rain, and so far things have been dreary and rainy - but tolerable - here in Winder. The rains are expected to subside shortly after noon tomorrow, but hourly forecasts show the winds picking up around midnight tonight and peaking around 5:00 a.m. They aren't expected to calm down again until after sunset on Friday, so I may decide to stay here a second night to be safe.

Be careful out there, my friends.  

Last Day of Quest

The mysteries of the Universal Solar Calendar continue to reveal themselves. Today is Last Day of Quest; First Day of Quest was back on August 31. Apparently, we've been "on quest" for the past 25 days.

My quest today allowed me to get most of a five-mile walk in before the rain arrived. I did get rained on for the last ¾ miles but I'm glad I got out at all - the forecast in nothing but rain, rain, and more rain through the rest of the week. Since I got back in, we've had one thunderstorm (with more forecast to come) and it's been as dark as evening outside all day.  

Hurricane Helene frankly has me worried. It's still projected to pass over Atlanta, and forecasts show 6 to 10 inches of rain prior to the arrival of wind impacts. Due to the strength and speed of the storm movement, areas in central Georgia east of the storm center are likely to see multiple hours of 70+ mph gusts. 

As the storm accelerates around the axis of a secondary low pressure situated in Alabama, the forward speed of the storm will be added to the maximum winds experienced on the east side of the storm. Models show gusts approaching 100 mph in the Atlanta area at 5:00 a.m. Friday.

Both the rain and wind maximum could change prior to the event but if the modeled situation occurs it would likely result in one of the most prolonged power and water outages to impact a metro area in recent history. With tree density, preceding soil saturation, and power and internet lines being almost all above ground, it could be weeks until power, water, and internet are fully restored throughout the area.

I'm hoping the models are wrong or will shift the worst impacts elsewhere, but as of now this is what I'm prepared to face.

I could ride the storm out here in this pile of bricks up on a hill and hope that the catastrophic damage that occurred in 2020 during Hurricane Zeta doesn't repeat itself. At least that one tree that fell is now gone, but there are still others around me to worry about.

My daughter lives northeast of town and has a guest room, and she told me Eliot (my cat) and I are welcome to ride the storm out at her place. She has fewer trees in the immediate vicinity of her house, but she's located in a low floodplain and we're looking at truly historic amounts of rainfall. By going out to her place, I'd be substituting danger of a tree fall for danger of flooding. In either case, power outage is a near certainty, but at least I'd have company.

Finally, I could still book a hotel outside of the path of the storm. Eliot would have to stay here alone and ride out the storm and I'd feel guilty because of that, but it's the safest bet for me. The worry here is when to leave. The longer I'm gone, the more stressed Eliot will be, but if I wait too long, rain and flooding might make the roads - even the interstates - unpassable. Stranded in my car on the highway may be the worst possible scenario. 

For the record, Atlanta is 250 miles from the Gulf Coast. Hurricane winds are supposed to be played out by the time a storm gets this far inland. But back in 2020, Zeta came to town as a Cat 1 hurricane, and Helene is expected to still have sustained winds of 39 to 75 mph by the time it gets here. 

Climate science says that global warming doesn't necessarily increase the number of hurricanes, but amplifies the power and strength of the storms that form. That seems to be exactly what we're seeing.

Update: The latest models have reduced the chance for tropical-storm strength winds (>39 mph) in Atlanta to 42%, and each successive forecast shows the storm tracking a little further west than the forecast before. But still, 39 mph sustained winds (as opposed to the peak winds during thunderstorms) can do a lot of damage to power lines, trees, and homes, and the chance for higher winds is certainly not zero.

Drastic Chapters of Crypt

 

Potential Tropical Cyclone Nine is now Tropical Storm Helene and still tracking toward the Yucatán Channel and then northward toward Atlanta, Georgia. Tropical storm-force winds are forecast to arrive here by 6 p.m. Thursday, although local forecasts are concerned more about heavy rainfall than high winds. I live up on a hill with a relatively new roof (2021), so I'm not too worried about rain or flash flooding, but I'm surrounded by tall, tall trees and it's the potential high winds that spook me. Way too many tons of timber high up over my head. Overnight Thursday will be a fun time.

Last Saturday, while I was so proud of myself for hiking 2.1 miles of the Appalachian Trail as a part of my 5.8-mile Jarrard Gap-AT-Slaughter Creek loop, Tara Dower of Virginia completed a north-to-south through-hike of the trail in 40 days, 18 hours, and 5 minutes, reaching Springer Mountain at 11:53 p.m. Saturday night and setting a new record for the fastest known time for hiking the 2,197-mile trail.

I was on the trail roughly between 1:00 and 2:00 pm. on Saturday, about 27 miles from Springer. Assuming Dower averaged about 3 mph on the trail, and further assuming she didn't stop or rest as she made her last drive toward the finish, she would have passed the stretch of trail I was on at about 3:00 p.m. In other words, we missed each other by about an hour or less. She probably passed while I was still hiking back to Lake Scott on the Slaughter Creek Trail.

Yesterday, and the Thursday before I hiked on the AT, I hiked the 6-mile Cochran Shoals Trail just outside of Atlanta, All these hiking miles are boosting my cumulative walking distance. Since the beginning of the year, the straight-line distance from my house has now extended across Lake Erie to the Canadian mainland and in the U.S. to Ann Arbor, Michigan. If I were to somehow walk on water or swim in a straight line, my cumulative mileage would extend to West End, the extreme westernmost tip of Grand Bahama Island, a spot I frequently visited while on vacations in the 80s and 90s.

I have managed to walk at least 3.7 miles every other day since I got back from Big Ears on March 27. Some days, I had to time my walks carefully around showers and storms and I only got caught out in the rain once, and it was a gentle rainfall at that. But the forecast for the next three days as Helene passes overhead is 70 to 80% chance of rain, so unless I'm very careful - and lucky - my streak is probably going to come to an end.

She Moved Under

 

Here it comes. The calm was too good to last. A tropical disturbance (Potential Tropical Cyclone Nine) currently off the coast of Central America is moving towards the north-northwest and is forecast to cross the Caribbean by Tuesday night, and then over the Gulf of Mexico on Wednesday and Thursday. Maximum sustained winds have increased to near 35 mph with higher gusts. Strengthening is expected during the next few days, and the system is forecast to become a hurricane on Wednesday and continue strengthening on Thursday as it moves across the Gulf and then straight north across the Florida panhandle and up into Georgia. 

Tropical storm-force winds are expected to arrive in Atlanta sometime after 8 pm Thursday night, because these storms always arrive here in the dead of night. It's scarier that way when the power goes out.

Priorities: this shit better blow over and my power back up and running in time for Saturday night's Georgia-Alabama football game. 

Day of the Crooked Spirit

Happy autumn to those of you just joining the season now. Today, at 8:44 am EDT, the Earth reached the autumn equinox, ending the summer season and initiating the fall for those who subscribe to a four-season calendar. 

On the equinox, day and night are of equal length. Darkness and light are perfectly balanced, in equipoise, and the forces of darkness begins to slowly outweigh the light.

Start a fire in the hearth and harvest anything still out in the fields. Winter is coming. Prepare for the darkness.

Realizing What He Was Doing

Today is the last day of summer according to the standard Julian calendar, what with the autumnal equinox tomorrow and all. Those of us on the Universal Solar Calendar have been enjoying Fall for weeks now, since August 7.

Anyhow, seeing as to how summer's almost gone, however you define it, I took a hike up in the North Georgia mountains today. Specifically, I hiked the Jarrard Gap-Slaughter Creek-Appalachian Trail loop, a moderately challenging 5.9-mile loop trail.  

The trail starts at Lake Winfield Scott, named for a reprehensible U.S. Army General who rode to fame on the basis of his involvement in Indian wars and the Trail of Tears expulsion of the Seminoles and Muscogee. But the lake's not to blame for who it's named after. It's actually a lovely lake. It's. Not. Your. Fault.

From the parking area at the lake, the Jarrard Gap Trail runs 1.2 miles up the unpaved Jarrard Gap Road to, well, Jarrard Gap on the Appalachian Trail. Apparently, at some point the trail leaves the road but I must have missed the marker because I took the road nearly the whole way until it finally gave way to a hiking trail. Also, it's all uphill from the lake to Jarrard Gap and for the first half mile or so of the Appalachian Trail to the peak of Gaddis Mountain (3,540 feet). And, yes, to my readers out West who will point out that 3,540 feet wouldn't qualify as a "mountain" on their side of the Mississippi, but what can you do? 

Hiking west on the AT, in the direction of Neel Gap, one first crosses Gaddis Mountain, drops down to Horsebone Gap, and then skirts the peak of Turkey Stamp Mountain (3,773 feet). From there, the AT descends again to Freeman Gap, where it crosses Freeman Trail. At 0.4 miles past Freeman Trail, the AT climbs a steep rock staircase to begin the ascent toward Blood Mountain, the highest point (4,446 feet) on the Appalachian Trail in Georgia. But fortunately for me, I didn't have to climb that staircase, because the Slaughter Creek Trail departs the AT to the left, leading 2.7 miles back to Lake Scott.

The Slaughter Creek Trail is downhill almost all the way back to the lake, which is a relief after crossing Gaddis and Turkey Stamp Mountains. But especially in the upper stretches, the trail is so rocky and uneven it feels like it was designed purposely to make you trip or lose your balance as you resist the pull of gravity leading you down the valley of Slaughter Creek. After a while, though, it levels out a little and runs through a rhododendron tunnel after leaving the Blood Mountain Wilderness Area and before rejoining the Jarrard Gap Trail near the lake.

The trails weren't particularly busy for a weekend. I encountered other hikers about four or five times on the AT, and only once on the Slaughter Creek Trail. 

The drive up from Atlanta was almost exactly 90 miles but took me almost two hours (I did stop for gas and to buy a takeout sandwich for the trail). 

One more note: the parking fee at Lake Scott is $5, cash money - there's no attendant, you leave the money in an envelope. I had to leave a $20 because I didn't have change and I didn't want to ride back to town to break the bill. Plan for that if you're thinking of heading up.

Day of the Radiant Spiel

 

I threw out all my scuba equipment today.

I was looking for my old knapsack - not backpack, but  the smaller knapsack I use for day trips - which led to a general house-cleaning episode of emptying closets. My scuba gear had sat on the floor of one closet in an old duffel bag for twenty years now.

So first of all, the equipment was old and out of date. And not just 20 years old, from the time it was last used. It was old and out of date even when I last used it in 2004 (I bought it in the early 90s). Last time used, in fact the last several times used, the regulator malfunctioned and I had to rent or borrow one from the dive boat operator. I bought my gear just before the computer revolution of the 90s, and the console was an old, analog version, not the modern type with digital displays that calculate time between dives based on depth and time underwater for you. 

Finally, I strongly doubted if any of it still worked after sitting in a duffel bag on the floor of my closet for two decades. The duffel bag itself was moldy and the zipper wouldn't open - I had to use a knife to cut through the canvas. 

I did keep a long-forgotten pair of Tevas I found in the bag, plus the dive mask and snorkel - simple, uncomplicated gear that might come in handy someday in some situation I can't imagine right now. But the rest - the fins, the flotation vest, the regulator and hoses, and all - went in the trash. I haven't needed it in the past 20 years, I doubt I'll need it in the next 20.

As it turns out, the knapsack wasn't even in that closet. I found it in a storage bin beneath the office window. 

Day of the Stop Gap

Again, not to brag, but twice today deer revealed themselves to me. 

Trying to stretch my legs and my every-other-day walking hike/hiking walk a little bit further, I walked the full 6-mile loop of the Cochran Shoals Trail today. I've walked along near it for years, nay, decades, now, but ignored the loop trail as a mountain-bike route not fit for joggers or walkers. It's certainly not a jogging trail, but it's fine for hiking, although you need to hop out of the way from speeding mountain bikes from time to time, although it wasn't particularly busy on this weekday afternoon. 

At one point during my walk, I saw a pair of deer on the open trail ahead of me. We both stopped and looked at each other for a minute, and once the deer realized I wasn't a speeding biker or otherwise an enemy, it ignored me and casually walked off into the woods. Pics or it didn't happen:

About a half hour later and obviously further on down the trail, I saw another deer, not on the trail but off in the woods. Could have been one of the pair I saw earlier, but I don't know.

I feel like deer presenting themselves to me is an omen of good karma, a sign that I'm doing something right. I think that these are my third and fourth sightings this month.

Now that the dog days of August are past, I'm finding an urge to do more hiking again. I might head up to the Chattahoochee National Forest and the lower stretches of the Appalachian Trail soon, but my next step, at least at the local level, is probably to combine the Cochran Shoals Trail with the Sope Creek Trail for an eight-mile, figure-8 loop hike.   

Their Shadows of Hearsay

 

Tracking my walking mileage, I've come to realize that Atlanta, Georgia is closer to Canada than to Mexico. By a considerable margin.

Also, my cumulative walking mileage this year, having reached Lake Erie the other day, now extends all the way to Lake Michigan. Near the Illinois/Indiana border on the lake shore, southwest of Chicago and northwest of Gary.   

In another direction, it's reached the northeast tip of Texas, just a little past Texarkana. The circle (r = 568 miles) runs along the Sabine River between Texas and Louisiana.  

Fun with geography!

Rapt Fear Belief

 

I initially mistook "rapt" for "wrapped," resulting in the picture above, lol.

My cumulative walking/hiking mileage has not only reached the Great Lakes, it's actually left the U.S. and has now entered Canada. Not the mainland to be sure, but Middle Island, a tiny speck in Lake Erie that's the southernmost point in Canada.

Still processing my little brother's demise. I'll probably never fully come to terms with it.

R.I.P.

David Hart, 60, of Kingfield, Maine passed away peacefully on Saturday, September 14th, 2024 at Franklin Memorial Hospital, surrounded by his closest loved ones.

David was born August 11th, 1964 in Port Jefferson, New York, the son of Joanne L. Hart, née Burns and M. William ‘Bill’ Hart.

David spent his early childhood on the beaches of Long Island, NY amongst his three loving siblings. After a family move to Massachusetts, he attended Winchester High School and participated in four years of baseball, football, and wrestling before graduating in 1982. Known for his outward compassion and love for having a good time, he was adored by many. Hard-working and a naturally skilled coordinator, he worked summers among a team of painting contractors years his superior, becoming a foreman at just 18 years old.

He went on to attend Boston University where he studied hydrogeology. During college he enjoyed summers out on Gloucester’s “Rocky Neck,” living his best life among many friends: striper fishing, lobstering, and cruising the open road on his beloved motorcycle.

Eager for a challenge and an adventure, David spent the following years as owner & operator of his own successful painting contracting company before traveling the country for work. By the late 1980’s he worked with CRINC New England, a leader for its time in cutting-edge recycling technologies, involving himself in the day-to-day operations before advancing to project oversight roles in the construction of industrial-scale aluminum processing facilities.

By far his favorite time spent during these years were his humble fishing trips up to Maine with close friends. He deeply adored Maine’s natural beauty and in the early ‘90s he built himself a permanent home in the woods of Freeman Township. Traveling across New England for work and coming back to his oasis, he felt an undeniable calling within the Western Mountains of Maine.

In 1996 he had a son and was faced with his biggest challenge of all. He pondered his new life’s trajectory and soon relieved his roles in the corporate world to devote the rest of his adult life to being the best father and friend he could be.

Driven by this devotion, in the winter of 2000 he moved into Kingfield and soon involved himself within the local community. He would spend the better part of his 30’s and 40’s vying for local economic development and better opportunities for area youth and their parents.

In 2003 he co-founded the Kingfield POPS outdoor summer concert, an annual event that showcases regional musicians, youth performers, and the Bangor Symphony Orchestra, aimed at supporting the arts within Franklin County’s communities through outreach to local schools. He fulfilled roles as Artistic Director among many others and was a deeply cherished advocate. He later became involved in regional music promotion for Portland-based artists as well.

Continuing his devotion to this mission alongside his lifelong love of baseball, he spent every summer in the decade following on the sports complexes of Western and Central Maine, volunteering as head coach of local Cal Ripken, Babe Ruth, school, and all-star teams. He was not only known to spend extra time with struggling players, he went further to organize new regional “fall ball” leagues to keep the opportunities expanding.

"Coach Dave" as he was known; always compassionate, knowledgeable and fun-oriented, he found proficiency in this role, coaching a Franklin County all-star team to the New England championships. During many of these years he wrote for Kingfield-based publication The Original Irregular, using his voice to spread community awareness of issues and events.

Sugarloaf area ski teams, Kingfield and surrounding area basketball programs, soccer leagues, recreation programs, and the Kingfield Days organization were all graced by David’s dedicated coordination and involvement. He was truly a man you could count on and a man that cared.

David completed his mission and returned to house painting, running a successful business in the area. During this time he unwound from the day-to-day fishing and canoeing with friends and family, attending local concerts, and spending time with his son.

David is survived by his son Jonathan Hart of Kingfield, ME, his mother Joanne Hart of Methuen, MA, his sister Donna Hart and her husband Jay Schuster of Methuen, MA, his brother Steven Hart of Atlanta, GA, his sister Jacquelyn Hart of Mount Shasta, CA, his nieces and nephews Ali, Rudie, Dakota, Kaya, and Neila, and all the friends he made along the way.

David’s favorite pastime was compassion, his favorite job was being a father.

Please carry on David’s memory by supporting your local community when and where you can.

He will be dearly missed.

-- written by David's son, Jonny

David

Last night, my brother passed away peacefully at 6:15 pm, Saturday, September 14, 2024. His loving son was bedside at the hospital with him in his last moments.  

Impermanence is swift. Our life is like a dream, time passes swiftly, and our dewlike life easily disappears. Since time waits for no one, try to do good to others and manifest kindness for all things as long as you are alive.

Have Gone Out

I can barely talk about it. 

My brother, my literal biological baby brother, is dying. He's currently in the hospital getting hospice care, beyond medical intervention and now in the "comfort" phase. His son, my nephew, describes him as a bed of lettuce between layers of blankets, with a morphine drip for pain.

He's 10 years younger than me. I should be the one who departs first. This feels so unnatural, in addition to heartbreaking.

That's all I can manage to say right now, other than I love you, bro. 

Fifth Day of the World Course

Fourth Day of the World Course

 

I did it! I beat diabetes!

Six months ago, a blood test indicated a glucose level of 179 mg/dL and an A1C of 6. The readings are indicative of prediabetes and if left untreated would develop into full-blown diabetes.

I don't want to be diabetic. I have 99 problems and don't want to add insulin injections as one. Instead of medication, however, I practiced a strict, nearly vegetarian diet of primarily fruit, nuts, berries, and leafy greens and started a regular walking/hiking regimen, both of which have been well documented in this blog. I know those posts were boring, but I wrote them not so much for you but as encouragement to myself to keep going.

I had a six-month follow-up exam yesterday and got my blood test results back today. My glucose dropped from 179 to 85 mg/dL, on the low side of the normal range (82-115 mg/dL), and my A1C dropped to 5.5%. A1C levels of 5.7% to 6.4% indicate prediabetes.

I suppose the relationship isn't linear, but given my 50% reduction in glucose, I thought my A1C would be lower than it was. Still, though, I'm out of the prediabetic range, although the 0.2% difference between my reading and the warning level is an encouragement to keep up with the healthy eating and exercise. Besides, I've come to enjoy both over the months.

I take my walking exercise every other day, and the days in between are for mediation - I'm up to 90 sitting minutes per event. It's zazen day and then kinhin day. It's been zazen, kinhin, zazen, kinhin every day since the start of August. Today was a zazen day, and during my sitting I listened to the sounds or wind and rain as the outer bands of Hurricane Francine passed overhead. 

I use my computer to time my meditation periods and today, during the third of three 30-minute sessions, the electricity flickered and I heard the popping sound of a transformer blowing somewhere in the distance. This happened twice in the span of about 60 seconds, although the power stayed on. However, the surge turned my computer off, so I sat there waiting to hear a 30-minute chime that never came. I counted my breaths to estimate the time - I've learned that in the still, quiet breathing of meditation, 10 breaths in and 10 breaths out is about one minute. I counted off twenty breath cycles in two groups of 10 each, so I knew that around 20 minutes had passed since the power surge - probably more as I didn't start counting immediately. 

When I finally got up and confirmed that my PC had shut down, almost 45 minutes had passed since the power surge. No worries, better to sit for too long than not long enough. Practice is enlightenment.

Third Day of the World Course

 

Remember that storm farting around the coast of Texas and Louisiana? Well, it's now a Cat 2 Hurricane, Francine, and just made landfall southwest of New Orleans with winds up to 100 mph. Current projections have it tracking up the Mississippi River, well west of Atlanta, but it's already brought cloudy skies and cooler temperatures here. 

I appreciated the cooler temps as I took my walk today. Temps were in the high 70s but after all the hot, sticky weather we've been having, it felt much cooler. It was so refreshing, I actually tacked an extra mile onto the end of my walk, not feeling beaten down by heat exhaustion and fatigue. 

This morning, I bought my Big Ears 2025 four-day pass. Sheesh. $1,150 for the pass (up from $950 least year and $750 the year before that). Plus $59.79 "service fee." Plus $12 shipping. $1,221.79 total. That's a lot of money, but I  try to justify it to myself by saying it's "only" about $300/day. That doesn't sound so bad does it? 

Had a doctor appointment today. He seemed to be in such a rush to get through my exam and on to whatever else it was he had to do next that he barely acknowledged that I dropped 40 pounds since the last time he saw me, or that my average blood pressure was down by 30 points. In fact, his first reaction was "Ooh, your blood pressure's gone up, hasn't it?" before I reminded him that 110 is, in fact, less than 140. Whatever.  

Second Day of the World Course

Today, Big Ears released its eagerly anticipated lineup for the March 2025 festival in Knoxville, Tennessee. 

Each year before, there had been at least one bucket-list performer on the schedule that I simply had to see. Laurie Anderson. Harold Budd. John Zorn. Patti Smith. This year, there were no "OMG, I have to see them" shows in the announcement, although it's still a strong overall lineup.

The headliner acts this year include the Philip Glass Ensemble performing Music in 12 Parts, although the announcement makes it clear that composer Glass himself will not be in attendance. German electronic musician Michael Rother will perform the music of his seminal bands Neu! and Harmonia. Johnny Greenwood of Radiohead will do something called 133 Years of Reverb, which seems to an eight-hour sound installation in an old church. Jazz trumpeter Wadada Leo Smith will lead a program that will include his RedKoral Quartet, the Wadada Leo Smith Quartet, Orange Wave Electric, Revolutionary Love, and more. There's also the premier of a composition by Tyshawn Sorey and something called Ipsa Dixit by soprano Kate Soper and the Wet Ink Ensemble. I've never heard of Soper, but the festival describes Ipsa Dixit as "an evening-length work of chamber music theater for voice, flute, violin, and percussion that explores music, language, and meaning through blistering ensemble virtuosity and extended vocal technique."

But it's after all that, that things get interesting for me. Ukraine's DakhaBrakha is performing. I saw them at Seattle's Bumbershoot Festival in 2013 having no idea who they were at the time - I was walking by their stage as they started and decided to stick around and check them out and they blew my mind. I haven't seen them in the 10 years since, so that's one set I'm certainly looking forward to.

There's also Nels Cline, possibly the most innovative living guitarist IMHO, Mike Reed’s Separatist Party, who released my personal AOTY last year, and the Sun Ra Arkestra playing with indie rockers Yo La Tengo. Then we have jazz guitarist Jeff Parker, both solo and with his post-rock band, Tortoise. Speaking of post-rock, Icelandic band múm is also on the schedule, as well as Austin's Explosions In the Sky.

Two years ago, I saw the indie slowcore band Low at Big Ears and shortly afterwards drummer and singer Mimi Parker of Low sadly passed away. Her husband, Low's guitarist and singer Alan Sparhawk, has now gone solo and will be performing at Big Ears this year. 

The experimental rock band Beak> will be performing, as will ambient-country bands SUSS and Cowboy Sadness. More conventional ambient music will be provided by William Basinski (The Disintegration Loops), Steve Roach, and harpist Mary Lattimore. There's also Yuka C. Honda, formerly of the unforgettable Cibo Matto, and Helado Negro and Julia Holter. Jazz musicians include Bill Frisell, Susan Alcorn, Sylvie Courvoisier, Kahil El’Zabar, Vijay Iyer, Joe Lovano, and others.

Overall, there's over 150 performances by over 50 artists, and still more artists to be added later. 

So is it all worth over $3,000 though ($1,150 for VIP pass and over $2,000 for a centrally located hotel)?

Fuck, yeah. Sign me up!

Day of the World Course

Don't mean to brag, but I saw another deer today, this one on the back stretch of the Chattahoochee trail.  

Metropolis Death and Being

 

I seem to be recovering from a long - maybe decade-long - depression. 

It probably started when I became disillusioned and disappointed with my career, formerly a central part of my life. The election of Donald Trump to the Presidency and his awful, hateful term in office didn't improve my disposition. Then came a directionless retirement, followed quickly by the covid lockdowns and uncertainties. The tree that fell on my house in October 2020 and the ensuing year of contractors, insurance headaches, and expenses weren't exactly helpful. 

I gained weight, fell out of shape, and became listless and inactive. My depression didn't manifest as a "woe-is-me" sadness, nor as an inability of feel joy like the pharmaceutical advertisements suggest. It was more just a stop to engagement with the world, a loss of any long- or short-term planning, and a lack of attention to housecleaning and personal hygiene.

The episode probably climaxed a year or so ago when I wound up in the ER with a bladder infection caused by incomplete emptying during urination. That forced me to get medical attention, which didn't address the mental health issues directly, but instead focused on getting my runaway hypertension under control, some urology to improve bladder health, and an advisory for exercise and diet to beat back a prediabetic prognosis.

It was the exercise and diet that made the difference. Once that was underway, I lost over 40 pounds and got my blood pressure under control. I had more energy, and that gave me more ambition, and that led to more engagement in the world beyond the walls of my house. Eventually, I resumed my dormant meditation practice and started reading more (and books, not just websites and social media).

We think we're these complex psyches that need some combination of therapy and pharmaceuticals to conquer things like depression and mental illness. Maybe some of you are and perhaps some challenges may require all of that, but don't underestimate the rejuvenating and healthful benefits of taking long walks, eating non-processed foods, and focused mindfulness. And kindness to pets and accepting their love back.

Worked for me.

Communique of Unknown Voltage

 

Such a good day. The Sports Desk spent the early afternoon watching Texas beat up on Michigan, 31-12. For those of you confused as to why we were cheering for Texas, recall that in last year's SEC Championship Game, Alabama beat repeat National Champion Georgia, 27-24. If football followed the conventions of boxing, Alabama would have taken Georgia's championship belts with the victory. But then, in their very next game, Alabama lost to Michigan, 27-20 (OT) in the CFP Semifinals, so Michigan got Georgia's two championship belts from Alabama, and the Wolverines had the belts at the beginning of this season. At the beginning of the day today.

Georgia wants their belts back, but doesn't have a scheduled game against Michigan.  However, Georgia will play Texas on October 19, and now that Texas has won the belts from Michigan, the Bulldogs have a chance of winning them back. So even though the Sports Desk doesn't like Texas football, we were happy to see the Longhorns win today. But only today, although we need them to keep winning and not lose the belts until we play them on Oct. 19. 

Also today, the two-time National Champion, No. 1-ranked, undefeated Georgia Bulldogs beat unranked Tennessee Tech, 48-3. And then, as if the day couldn't get any better, unranked NIU beat No. 4 Notre Dame, 16-14, and we despise Notre Dame and their hunchback team.

But then came the real blessing of the day. After the football games, it was time to take out the trash. Literally. I was taking the garbage out to the bin just before sunset, the crepuscular hour when it's still light outside, when I saw a small whitetail deer in my front yard. 

I live in the city. Wildlife beyond squirrels, racoons, and the occasional opossum is rare. We're blessed with chipmunks and owls here, too, but a deer is quite the unexpected surprise. It froze and stared at me, trying to determine my intentions, and both of its big, rabbit-like ears were turned toward me.

I spoke to it softly and gently, "Hi, there guy," and "Not gonna hurt you," and that kind of thing. I didn't more or walk toward it, just stood there on my front stoop with a bag of trash in my hand watching him (or her) watch me. This lasted for two minutes or so, and then the deer suddenly bolted off around the side of my house and into the back yard.

My yard is fenced in on three sides, everything but the front, and there was no place for the deer to escape except to come back out where I had seen it. I went back there, but the deer had somehow disappeared. Hopped a fence or had found some little gap or something - I don't know. But it was gone.

I always take these random sightings as karmic omens from nature. I must be living right for a deer to decide that my yard was a safe place to pass through or for a big old barred owl to land in one one of my trees. It feels like a peek under the tent at the divine. It feels like a nod of approval from Mother Nature that I'm doing something right.

Even Nature must hate Notre Dame. That's got to be it. 

Distant Strollers

 

That feeling when you realize you've been cheated out of $17,000.

First world problems, I know. 

Here's the story: way back in 2007, the company  I was working for let me go. I wasn't fired for cause, but the company in general and my office in particular had been struggling, and management decided that it was because my sales weren't meeting expectations (I wasn't a salesman). Sucks, but one phone call got me my next job and I didn't miss a beat, career-wise.

I could have rolled my 401(k) money from that job into my IRA, but I decided to keep it with the financial service they used to see if the interest/ROI there was any better. I kept it there over the years with the goal of keeping my savings diversified. The account changed hands several times over the years as my old company changed financial service firms, and the company itself was bought and sold at least twice in corporate mergers and acquisitions. But I kept my eye on the ball and tracked my money from account to account.   

I retired five years ago, and recently decided it was finally time to collect that 401(k) money. The account total is now over $27,000 after all the years of stock-market growth (I have more money in my IRA plus a few other 401(k) accounts - I didn't retire on $27,000 worth of savings). But when I went to make a withdrawal this week, I was told that my former company never deposited the matching funds, and that I was only vested $10,000 of the $27,000 total. In other words, $17,000 of the money in my account wasn't "mine."

I argued, I pleaded, and the account manager was sympathetic, but said that my vested portion of the account had been set since I parted ways with the old company. He suggested that I might want to contact the company and ask if they could contribute the rest of the funding now, but short of that, the total listed amount wasn't in the account, only the $10,000 or so that had been withheld from my paychecks while I worked there. He pointed out that different companies have different policies on when their employees become fully vested. I had been let go after three years and three months - perhaps I hadn't yet reached their vesting milestone, but I could call them and find out.

Good luck with that. I can just imagine how that call would go: "Hello, you let me go 17 years ago. Can you put $17,000 into my retirement fund, please?"  Honestly, I wouldn't even know where to start calling, and I'm sure the present financial officer, if I could even find him or her, would say I have to call some legacy fund or something for those kinds of things, or file some claim, or contact a fiduciary to find what benefits remain. In any event, whoever's in charge now is going to be more interested in protecting the interests of his employer than making things right for someone who didn't work out almost two decades ago. 

I'm not going to even start. I know I won't be successful, and I know I'll get a frustrating and stressful run-around. Actively trying to get the money will only make the loss that much more painful for the effort. I got screwed over by the company 17 years ago, I never got the money that was due to me, and now I never will. I just need to accept that and move on. Never did like those folks, anyway. 

Final blow: after taxes, I get only $8,000 of my vested $10k. So I started this process hoping to collect $27,000, and will walk away with only $8,000. Of course, as a retiree, I should be able to get most, if not all, of my withheld taxes refunded next April.

Day of the Animal Mind

 

Those three tropical waves in the Atlantic with potential to develop into hurricanes are now five separate hot spots. At least one has already been hijacked by the Gulf Stream and is heading north well off the East Coast of North America, but the others are all potential threats. That one off the coast of Texas is still farting around on the Gulf Coast causing torrential rain and another is wedged in between the Yucatan and the Mexican mainland. The remaining two are out in the Atlantic and it's anyone's guess where they're heading next.

Meanwhile, my cumulative walking distance now extends from my Atlanta home all the way to Pittsburgh. Fun fact: I moved back to Atlanta from Pittsburgh in 1993, so I'm metaphorically retracing my steps.

But while I'm writing, the Gaming Desk is jumping up and down with its hand up and going, "Ooh, ooh!" It wants to say that last night it finally beat the game Deus Ex: Human Revolution.

We didn't like the game. Sorry if that offends any of you Play Station enthusiasts from 2011, but the game's painfully outdated now. The graphics suck by modern standards and the mechanics are clunky and confusing. Your inventory for weapons, ammo and supplies is way too limited and the maps often give you no idea where you're supposed to go. I found the main protagonist way too comically macho, all grim scowl and laconic dialog. He wore sunglasses most of the time, even indoors at night. I didn't care about any of the side characters or NPCs. When I finally beat the final boss and ended the game, I felt only relief that the game was over and absolutely no desire to play it again.

Hey, I bought it on Steam for $2.99 and played for 52 hours, so I shouldn't complain. I got my money's worth. Also, I played the game only in preparation for its sequel, 2016's Deus Ex: Mankind Divided. Hopefully, that will be a better experience.

Escape Journey Through

 

A monk asked Joshu in all earnestness, “I have just entered this monastery. I beg you, Master, teach me.” 

Joshu asked, “Have you finished your rice?” The monk answered, “Yes, I have.”

Joshu said, “Then wash your bowl.” At that moment, the monk was enlightened.

Part of being an urban monk is not needing a dishwasher. I don't generate a lot of dirty dishes on a daily basis. Breakfast is an English muffin (no dishes, just a knife). Lunch is a bowl of berries over yogurt (one bowl). Dinner is either a salad (one bowl) or brown rice and lentils (two bowls - one for preparation and one for eating). After each meal, I wash the bowl (or bowls). I make the dishwashing part of the eating ritual.

Most of my beverages come in plastic bottles, and I drink water by refilling the empties. But occasionally I have to hand wash a tumbler.

I use the same coffee mug every morning. I suppose I probably should wash it more often than I do, but I like to believe that the residue gives the coffee some added flavor.

I suppose I can load each bowl into the dishwasher and take a new one from the cupboard the next day, and then let the machine wash them all when I'm finally out of fresh dishes, but I fail to see the advantage of that. I also believe it would use up more water and power (especially considering the drying cycle).

It was probably about 10 years ago that my dishwasher stopped working. Maybe more (time flies). I had an electrician confirm that the washer was still getting power, and he said it was, but beyond that I'd be best served just getting a new dishwasher. I didn't - I just became the dishwasher and don't regret my decision for a minute.

They have a style of eating in some Zen monasteries called oryoki. It's a very elegant solution for managing the dishes of large numbers of monks. Each monk takes a serving of food in their bowl, and then eats it clean. Tea is poured into the same bowl, and the monk washes the residue with the tea and then drinks that down. A cloth napkin is used to wipe the bowl dry, and then the bowl is wrapped in the cloth napkin for storage until the next meal. No bowls to wash and no dishwasher duty, except for pots in the kitchen.   

I don't eat oryoki style and I have no intention to start. I'm a Contemplative Stoic urban monk, not a Zen monastic. But my simple, then-wash-your-bowl approach to dishware management is not without its Zen precendent.      

Day of the Sidestep

 

I'm approaching my goal of becoming an urban monk as a practicing Contemplative Stoic.

I can't honestly call myself a Zen Buddhist anymore, although I have absolutely no quarrels with Zen or its teachings. But Zen, as I understand Master Dogen's description, is an unmistakable handed-down tradition from teacher to student, and I've stepped outside of that line of transmission.

That's not a worry though. I still read Dogen and I still practice zazen. I've found many similarities, though, between the teachings of the Greek Stoic philosophers and the Zen teachers, although the practice of meditation seems to be missing from Stoic philosophy. I'm familiar, of course, with Marcus Aurelius' Meditations, but that's really more an anthology of "deep thoughts" than meditation practice in the Buddhist sense.

So in good ol' American DIY fashion, I've fused Stoicism with Zen practice and call it "Contemplative Stoicism." It's really a good marriage, as the discipline of sitting meditation, putting one's mind where you want it, when you want it, for as long as you want it, helps to build the famous resolve of Stoicism.

Another thing I like about Stoicism, a philosophy, as opposed to Zen Buddhism, a religion, is the former doesn't have the latter's gatekeepers and nannies constantly telling folks that they still don't quite have it right yet. If your understanding of Marcus Aurelius and Epictetus isn't the same as some Oxford professor who's read them in the original Greek, it doesn't matter. You can take what you need and leave the rest, a la carte. 

Zen teachers will say I'm giving up on my chance at enlightenment, and I'd say, enlightenment's bunk. I've been to a lot of Zen centers and met a lot of teachers, both Japanese and American, and have yet to meet an "enlightened" person. Besides, Master Dogen teaches that practice is enlightenment, and that all of us are enlightened in the moments that we are practicing zazen. So excuse me while I pass on buying your snake oil.

Zen is usually practiced in the Chinese and Japanese traditions by monks and in monastic settings. But stories abound about monks who left the monastery and practiced on their own in the isolation of mountaintops and deep forests. Mountain monks and forest monks. I argue that in the midst of all the hustle and bustle of the city, it's as equally possible to be isolated as in the classic settings. In fact, isolation and alienation are real mental-health problems in our cities today. But as opposed to the householder living with a spouse, partner, or children, it's quite possible for one living on their own to achieve near monastic isolation in the city. It's a lot noisier that the forest or the mountaintop, sure, but the distractions are in your head, not in the environment. 

I live alone, I dine alone, and at nights I read and sleep alone. I'm retired and don't need to go to a job, nor worry about earning a wage. I live with a pet cat, who helps me practice patience and compassion. My days alternate between walking-hiking and sitting meditation. Today was a walking day, yesterday and tomorrow are meditation days. I interact with neighbors and shopkeepers compassionately and kindly. If that doesn't meet your expectations for a Zen monk, fine - I'm not claiming to be one. It's what I call a Contemplative Stoic urban monk, and it is what it is because I make it so.

Works for me, but (and I mean this kindly) you do you.                  

Cloud Hammer

We're a little over a week away from the lineup announcement for the 2025 Big Ears festival, scheduled for September 10. A recent email from the festival's founder confirmed the price of VIP and the elite Sonic Explorer passes will go up this year, and that there will be more "separately ticketed" events, additional costs over and above the $963.86 I spent last year on the Sonic Explorer pass. 

The only available hotel room I can find, more than six months before the start of the festival, was at the Embassy Suites at $559/night (with taxes, fees and all the other bells and whistles, $2,621.71 for four nights). But on Saturday, I finally had a breakthrough, and managed to book a room at the Hyatt Place, the hotel I've always stayed at there, at the "Member Rate" of "only" $479/night, with Sunday night down to $395 (still, $2,148.02 total).  

In a Facebook post last weekend, the festival said that Pitchfork's "50 Best Albums of 2024" list includes many of the performer to be announced for this year, and told one commenter that their guesses, which included Los Campesinos!, The Dirty Three, Crumb, Beth Gibbons, Jessica Pratt, Hovvdy, Vampire Weekend, Julia Holter, Empress Of, Waxahatchee, Mannequin Pussy, Grandaddy, Kali Malone, and The Smile were "good guesses." In other separate posts, the festival praised recent releases by Pratt and Holter, so one could reasonably assume those two are likely participants next year.

There are some good performers on that list, sure, but it's hardly the unique, one-of-a-kind line-up I've come to expect from Big Ears. I'm not sure I want to spend that kind of money, nearly $3,000,  just to see a bunch of acts that tour regularly and will probably be passing through Atlanta in the next few months anyway.

Of course, I could save money by buying a cheaper, General Admission pass and staying in a hotel outside of Knoxville and driving in each day. But that would be a very different experience, and even though it would cost less money, it wouldn't be worth the time and travel to go.

I still haven't lost hope, though. I'm holding out that when the lineup is announced, it will be amazing and worth every penny of the price. I have nothing against Julia Holter and Jessica Pratt and have seen them both in concert in the past, and they'd make welcome additions to the lineup, although not as headliners. The Dirty Three, Kali Malone, and Beth Gibbons have all performed at Big Ears in the past and I would welcome any of them back, although again not as headliners.

My prediction is that this year will include Malone, Arooj Aftab and Kahil El'Zabar & The Ethnic Heritage Ensemble (they all have new releases out and are currently touring). But past that, it's anyone's guess.