Harlequin

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February 9, 2026- My Dad used to bring home a gallon of ice cream that was called harlequin-vanilla, chocolate and strawberry, layered in one box. He noted these were the three most popular flavours, so we could each choose without feeling left out. I took a little of each. I forget what my siblings chose, but it was one flavour to the exclusion of others. That didn’t faze me. Each one of us is unique and entitled to our own opinions.

Yesterday’s Super Bowl offered a choice between two excellent teams. Seattle won, probably because of a more aggressive offense. I was busy with family things here, and didn’t watch the game, but would have been happy had New England won-as there is a direct connection, one of my maternal uncles was a key figure in getting both stadiums at Foxborough. That said, I congratulate the Seahawks for a job well done.

The halftime show was a statement celebrating the wholeness of the Americas. I only watched a clip of the end, and thought it a nice touch that most of the independent nations of the hemisphere were mentioned, after Mr. Martinez Ocasio’s statement: “God Bless America”. He probably could have done justice to the song, had he sung it, but Brandi Carlile had already done a fine rendition of “America the Beautiful”. (I watched that clip as well). There was an alternative show, by conservative artists. I didn’t watch any of that, but it is on You Tube, for those whose tastes prefer it. For the record, I like Lee Greenwood and Carrie Underwood, and would have watched any segment either of them might have done. I also like Latin music, and was an early fan of Santana, Joan Baez singing in Spanish, and the Chilean band, Quilapayun.

I guess I am just given to enjoying variety, diversity, or harlequin.

The Road to Diamond, Day 113: Playfulness

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Tom Petty, Harry Chapin and Rivers Cuomo shared the stage tonight, at The Raven Cafe, or so it seemed. The three musicians who were on stage evoked those men, in style-and somewhat in voice and appearance. They played and sang under the watchful poster eyes of Carlos Santana, The Who and Twenty One Pilots. It was a satisfying evening, of both playfulness and angst. The Rivers look-alike offered light-hearted tunes about an elfin girlfriend and living out of his car, juxtaposed with a darker tune about the latter situation. “Tom” sang of being occasionally bereft of spirit and of drinking on St. Patrick’s Day. “Harry” was mainly focused on his courtship and love for his wife.

It was a fine cap to a playful day. The morning brought me back to Bear and Dragon, this time for a French omelet, that was everything such fare should be-light and fluffy, complemented by a couple of English bangers and a pair of potato galettes. My seat was at the counter, shared with the cafe’s owner, who bantered a bit, in between his business calls. Bernie, the barista, tended well to my coffee and water needs.

Next up, in the afternoon, was a revisit to Arcosanti, the experimental community that lies an hour east of Prescott. I went there to get a couple of photos to send Kathy, in advance of our friends’ visit to Arizona, the second week of April. I also wanted to walk a bit on the Visitors Trail, that leads to the base of a small mesa, on the south side of the property. Before that, I took a short break in the laid-back cafe, enjoying a matcha latte. One of the attendants had a confession to make: His matcha lattes had used 2. 5 ounces of the powder. Fortunately, his co-worker fixed mine, with a more suitable 2 teasspoons of matcha. I read somewhere that there is a shortage of matcha in Japan. Maybe overzealous baristas in the U.S. are part of the reason for that.

Such was a light-hearted day, the first of Spring.