The Changing Color of our Days

A road trip to see friends new and old – and Mother Nature

Ginkgo Avenue, Tokyo, Japan. Photo: Adobe Stock.

10.18.22

I decided to get away to see the fall leaves this past weekend. It’s part of my goal of regularly getting out of town now that I’m back full time in busy, metropolitan Brooklyn and larger New York. I’m talking about a full day or two out in nature that quiets the chat inside my head and clears my thoughts, allowing me a reset of sorts. I’m not a huge nature girl, but I have grown to appreciate the natural world more and deeply as I get older, and I seek it out knowing it offers a simple healing quality. I’ve also deepened my science nerd self, and nature offers endless corners of knowledge to plumb.

               I also wanted to go meet a new friend in person and visit an old, dear friend. One is a writer, Laurie Stone; the other a writer-broadcaster-host, Laura Flanders. I knew Laurie’s regular byline from her many years of writing for the Village Voice, and The Nation, in the late 80s and 90s when I was writing for these publications. She’s a bit older than I am, and among a set of smart, edgy, good feminist/bad girl/pro-sex voices in New York who were speaking out about straight women’s desire and agency and calling out rape in the pre-Me Too days. Lynne Tillman, Karen Finley and Sapphire are others I admired. Laurie recently started her SubStack, Everything Is Personal, that inspired me to launch mine here.

               Another goal is to invest in my friendships, and my weekend was part of that. I missed my NY crowd when I lived away from the city, and I remain interested in what they’ve been up to all these years. I’ve come to appreciate the amazing people I’ve met — so many truly talented. That’s one of the subjects of this ‘stack. I started making a list a while ago about who else I’d like to meet now. Who might be in New York doing anything that really interests me? I’m hoping to meet as many as I can. I realized during Covid there is no more time to waste, no more waiting to live your absolutely most exciting, bold, and happy life. Grab that ring on the carnival ride, in other words. That’s what I’m up to.

Storefront, Hudson. Photo: AC d’Adesky, 2022.

Early Saturday I headed north toward Hudson, where my old friend Kelly McKaig lent me his cozy house, replete with two cats I would check on. My day companion was Ms. Scarlet, supreme canine. She rested her head on my shoulder as I drove. I was headed for the Taconic State Parkway, knowing it’s a sweeter drive, with gentle turns, and offers a great view of the annual foliage. Driving up the FDR drive, I felt my smile start to emerge, happy to glance at the pale slate-shiny East River on my right, which gave way to the Harlem River on my left. I forget at times, living in the city, that these beautiful rivers surround us. The river was placid, a silver filament lined with industry.

               I took a break to find coffee and slid my car into quieter streets that led to me to a small Old Salem arts festival—I think that was the name. It was one of those little weekender arts and crafts fests that serve cider and sell old clothes and local ceramics. I couldn’t not stop; it was such the classic picture of a fall weekend in upstate New York. I asked myself then, as I often do, if I could possibly live there — outside the big city — and be happy. The answer was, probably no; I’d go a little nutters after too much lovely calm, I thought. Better to visit, take weekends. Or months. But I love the fantasy. As I was leaving, I happened to notice a small snake not far from my foot. Oh hello, I thought, not even afraid. It seemed smaller and I was larger. Scarlet eyed the snake and shook her tail. We moved on. Nature, I thought, already!

The Taconic was glorious as expected; I used to drive along it for years. It was like greeting an old friend. The leaves were spectacularly very yellow, very red, very pinkish-orange. When I started taking smaller roads, wanting a quieter arrival into Hudson, some stretches were marked by an extra slow, spiraling, fall of yellow leaves, or edged in crimson. I felt such gratitude, then, to nature, to the natural world, to the steadiness of this annual change of season. Amid so much in the world that can feel disorienting – our toxic politics, climate change, my own life shifts, etc. – it felt soothing to just slow the drive to a crawl, let the leaves spill into my head.

               Before the trip, I read about the change of leaf colors. It’s an example of senescence, which is a process of slow deterioration with age. So are the wrinkles I began having at 20 on my face, I learned; they are examples of cellular senescence. The difference between me and a leaf is our different lifespans. Senescence can play a role in development, and the healing of wounds. When temperatures drop, it constricts the veins in leaves that carry water, not enough to kill the whole leaf, but enough to cut off the source of life for leaf cells called chloroplasts that carry the chemical chlorophyll and reflect green. They capture light for photosynthesis. As they die, they reveal other underlying pigments: the carotenoids and xanthophylls that yield brilliant orange and yellow leaves. The fall color harvest is actually a revelation, bringing forward the leaf’s hidden colors. I liked that idea.

               I’d wondered how climate change and warmer temperatures impacted the color change. Opinions vary, but higher temperatures may delay the onset; it may also mute the colors a bit. It can also enhance them, as happens to trees with less nitrogen that can have more intensely red leaves. The experts predict that, if we can’t change course faster, and keep the planet from further warming, the fall foliage will be duller. That made me sad to think about. But I didn’t want to stay sad too long because what was before me was also majestic. I just want to do my small part to fight climate change and restore nature. I also learned that trees migrate to find colder temperatures and survive. Sugar maples have migrated north on tree slopes, headed for Canada, seeking refuge, I’d argue, like a lot of Americans under Trump. As with our politics, we can’t fully predict what our future forests will look like, but we are warned. We can act to mitigate the damage now.

Seemingly innocent snake-in-the-grass. Photo: AC d’Adesky, 2022.

Up in Hudson, I found Laurie and her boyfriend Richard happily seated in a new artsy space that, she immediately told me, was a total wreck for so long that everyone was sure it would be condemned. Instead, it’s been rehabbed into a cool, DIY salon/gallery/performance space. The lit event, Yeah You Write, is a Literary Cocktails series that began over five years ago in New York City, the brainchild of series emcee Lisa Amico Kristel and co-conspirator Robin Luce Martin. It pairs original cocktails with writers, plus offers food. On Saturday, each guest writer/reader was matched with an original cocktail prepared by a talented mixologist on site. They read the cocktail menu before tasting it. We also ate some tasty Bento box food pre-ordered from a local resto. It’s a great premise.

               The venue, Fahrenheit 451 House, references the dystopian Ray Bradbury novel, one that depicts an America where books are banned and firemen burn books anyone dares to read. (We’re not quite there in Trump’s Q-Anon swamplandia, but closer, yah?) The name actually comes from a common expression you hear in New Orleans, Yeah You Right. That phrase graced a sign on a former Nawlins style NYC restaurant, Bo’s, that first housed the lit-drinks series. Covid forced a temporary halt to the series. It resurfaced at the Long Island City bistro, M. Wells, and Saturday marked its celebratory upstate debut-- a phoenix from the ashes. In a front room, books by many participant authors lined the walls and the dresses of art sculptures. I was impressed by how many writers have appeared in it. The series also collaborates with writing programs and literary journals.

Yeah You Write - Hudson guest writers (R-L): Lippman, Stone, Barber, Anderson.

Photo: AC d’Adesky, 2022.

Laurie was one of four guest readers, plus two wild card audience writers. One guest, Stephanie Barber, wrote a murder play, Trail in the Woods, set in a forest voiced by animals. Audience members gamely channeled their inner animal spirits to read Act 2. Sarah Lippman read from Lech (Tortoise Books, 2022), a new book about, well, a lecherous predator—a dark addition to the Me Too literature. Scott Edward Anderson read from a poetry collection, Wine-Dark Sea, and told anecdotes about his poet’s journey. Laurie read a compelling section from one of her books, Streaming Now, Postcards from the Thing That is Happening (Dottir Press, 2022), about confronting a GOP congressman during the SCOTUS Brett Kavanaugh hearings. Her prose is sharp, and often aimed at entitled white men who hold a dim view of women. Conversely, she loves men—the rarer good men, as she puts it—and writes sexy love stories, too.

               I also really liked a poem, Artificial Moon, by wild card Lebanese-Mexican poet, novelist and video filmmaker Marianne Shaneen, written for a limited edition vinyl record by Victoria Keddie, Electrona in Crystallo Fluenti, being issued in November by Fridman Gallery in NY. Here is one line of Marianne’s dystopic poem:

               In the future, astrologers will map our fates,

               according to the position of the satellites at the moment we

               were born

On Sunday morning, Laurie and I met at one of the super cute coffee shops that also make Hudson and Kingston and other smaller towns in the area so damn charming. I had another flash of could I live here? thoughts. Laurie and Richard moved here during Covid from the city (NYC) and love it.

  

Yeah You Write sculpture, Farneheit 451 House, Hudson.

Photo: Ac d’Adesky, 2022.

I then drove to woodsy Callicoon, where Laura was hosting a live stream fundraiser with Bill McKibben, the founder of the climate campaign 350.org. I was late, because GPS is a cretin, and I drove carefully, worried about hitting deer in small roads. I wanted to see them instead and did, in the empty grass next to the event venue. Three of them, gazing placidly at me and Scarlet. Hi there, deer. The event at the Catskill Provisions brewery was standing room only, which I fully expected. Laura has a strong fan base, having been at the indie media game since the late 80s. We were both cohosts at a WBAI public affairs show back then, along with Dennis Ross and Robert Knight. Amy Goodman was at WBAI too, honing her scathing take-downs of some Latin American bad guy or another. Good old days, as I think of them.

Photo: Jonathan Charles Fox for River Reporter, 2022.

Laura has soldiered on all these years, constantly fighting to raise funds to keep an independent progressive voice on the airwaves. Her Grit TV show morphed into The Laura Flanders Show and is broadcast weekly on 300 PBS stations from a studio she’s outfitted in a little cabin in Smallwood. She’s had a cabin there for over 30 years with her partner, the choreographer Elizabeth Streb.

               Laura’s now a seasoned media critic, as well as a passionate progressive activist and writer, committed to reporting on, and with, community groups engaged in social justice. That’s her jam, and she does it super well. She turned early to digital streaming as part of her toolbox. The conversation on Sunday touched on all the things I’d expected: the coming elections, our wounded natural planet, as well as model community projects, and the steps audience members can take to get involved. McKibben is famously the author of The End of Earth, a classic 2014 environmentalist manifesto, now updated with strategies for fighting climate change. Reviews of the book say he’s soured on our political prospects for saving the planet, but at the event, he was still championing a plan to do that. He has a new book out, too (see link below).

               As Laura pointed out, public television is supported by government funds, but the programming is all privately funded—read donors. That’s why she was holding her first in-person fundraiser since Covid quarantine. The author of several books, she’s tireless: she continues to contribute to the Nation, helms a podcast of You Tube, share her The F Word commentary on radio, digs for the backstory. The woman is still working very hard for us —the progressive community. So, here’s my pitch: help keep Laura and great guests on the air. We need their voices and ideas more than ever. You’ll learn a lot when you tune in, and it will cheer you and inspire you, even when facing sobering news. With pending mid-term elections, now is a great time to join that party.

               I was also cheered at the event when I reconnected with a bunch of friends who I first met at the Seneca Women’s Peace Camp, back in the 80s. They are part of the rad women who I’ve met all my adult life, a fabulous bunch. I said hi to Karen Zelermeyer —KZ to friends — and filmmaker Tami Gold, and Elizabeth (Streb). I saw the global dynamo V —formerly Eve Ensler — of V-Day and One Billion Rising (OBR), and Tony Montenieri, V-Day’s Campaigns Director. He’s moved up to this areas, as has V. In 2011-14, I was V-Day’s Haiti coordinator for that sexual violence campaign. We had our adventures. I gave a hug to Laura’s sister, Stephanie, who helms Bloomberg’s economic coverage as a journo in London; she had grown teens in tow. (How could she have gotten older while I and my friends stayed the same? Haha). I chatted with Donna Binder, pushing her to do a photo book of her terrific lezzie and LGBTQ movement photography; it would be great. I spied Aaron Hicklin, a journo-cum-bookseller, who took over the editor’s reins of Out magazine for a decade after The Advocate’s owners bought Out and summarily fired the whole editorial and art staff, including moi. Aaron just opened a second bookstore in upstate New York, his next act. For her part, Elizabeth is commuting from the city every week, still pushing her movement company, Strebco, to new heights.

Everybody is still at it, I thought, looking around, happy. It’s still so challenging. The money has never been good. But we’re all so passionate about what we do. That hasn’t changed.

The cultural highlight of the event was a performance by Taína Asili, a New York-based Puerto Rican singer and artivist who composed the stirring Call to Action song for V-Day’s OBR campaign. She has an amazing voice and hosts a podcast, The Rhythm of Rebellion. She talked about Soul Fire Farm, a food justice project that trains Black farmers who work with the soil in Albany, where she lives. I thought about the topsoil they learn to enrich and about senescence as I listened to her, thinking about how I like the word clod —it’s so earthy —and about how soil feed the roots that enrich the veins of the leaves whose changeling colors delight us.

I drove back very early Sunday. The rain came and went. I thought about the impact of rain on the forest. The clouds limit the sun, thus limiting photosynthesis. I looked at the leaves as if I were on a drug trip, as if my eyes could magnify the process of senescence on each leaf. At one point, a roll of cloud unfurled like a spool of loose cotton across a low horizon. Then I saw the deer: first three or four, then a dozen, then in the next meadow, as my excitement mounted, maybe twenty, and even more in the next meadow. This was a herd, or herds. Somehow, in the middle of the busy world, they were calmly grazing, a timeless pastoral.

I was alone, the rain was imminent, the tree trunks and leaves glistened as the car headlights illuminated a turn, and I felt such a sense of gratitude and calm happiness. Not only for the survival of the deer and small white suburban snakes, but for these ordinary scenes of incredible beauty, and natural resilience--the meadows and the trees, the rain, the clouds, the critical topsoil. And my friends, my creative, activist community. I felt gratitude for them, old and new, still committed, still creating, still bringing forth beautiful, important visions and things to the world, including hope.

The fruit of the tree, Hudson, 2022. Photo: AC d’Adesky, 2022.

To learn more, join the fun:

Yeah You Write literary cocktail series: Yeahyouwrite Author Series | Facebook

Laurie Stone: About | Laurie Stone (lauriestonewriter.com)

Stephanie Barber: stephanie barber

Sarah Lippman: HOME | Sara Lippmann | Writer, Editor, Teacher

Scott Edward Anderson: Scott Edward Anderson

Marianne Shaneen: marianneshaneen.com

The new record: https://www.fridmangallery.com/electronain-crystallo-fluenti 

The Laura Flander’s Show: Home - The Laura Flanders Show

Laura Flanders | The River Reporter

Bill McKibben: The Flag, the Cross, and the Station Wagon: A Graying American Looks Back at His Suburban Boyhood and Wonders What the Hell Happened, by Bill McKibben

Taina Asili: ABOUT - Taina Asil

V-Day | One Billion Rising: Home - V-Day (vday.org)