Butch Cassidy

We watched "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid" last night. It seemed like the right thing to do, in memory of Paul Newman on the day of his passing. Besides we have 54 channels and nothing was on, and Beth hadn't seen the movie before.

I've seen the movie more than any other, I think, although I don't keep track. The first half-dozen viewings were when it first hit the theatres in 1969, the year I graduated from high school. With the turmoil of the Vietnam War, recent assissinations of MLKing and Bobby Kennedy, the shadiness of the Nixon administration, et al., the idea of going "someplace like Bolivia," as Butch suggested, appealed to me.

I'd forgotten how much the movie had become part of my psyche in those days and, not having seen it recently, how much vicarious pleasure I take in watching it. I'll never be an outlaw, but there's a part of me that inherently distrusts the e'stablishment' and those self-important patriots like Nixon, Reagan, Bush and McCain who exploit our soldiers for their own political gain. I guess that's what took me to New Zealand a couple years ago.

And I often feel like Butch: "I have vision, and the rest of the world wears bifocals."

Thanks Paul for your Butch Cassidy and all the other great roles you played. And for my favorite brand of marinara.

The Downeaster

The end of August marked the end of Jacob's one-year residence at Apt. 6, 666 Tremont Street in Boston. What took 3 or 4 mini-van loads moving in, warranted a U-Haul van moving out, so I determined a one-way rental was most economical and took The Downeaster from Portland to Boston the day before the big move. Jacob drove down from Camp Calumet in New Hampshire to meet me and as coincidence would have it, Beth was enroute from Sara's move home from DC and could pick up the car in Portland. With all the logistics worked out, the train ride on The Downeaster, my first, was relaxing to say the least. I had all day and nothing to do until the next morning.

The view from a train is uniquely different from the turnpike: most is of commercial backlots, cluttered or overgrown railroad sidings, forest and undergrowth, bankings and backyards. Interesting snapshots appear and disappear as quickley as they come into view: