the monarch trail on the old county grounds. Massive, I tell you. Just like those photos you see of the monarch migration in Califronia, but why they stop here, I don't know, but I'll take it. The sunrise shadows are tall, (yes it's fall) and the sunlight gently wakes the monarchs up, slowly, they start to slap their wings, like they're warming up that mechanism.
So we wrapped up Chill on the Hill with the Paul Cebar Tomorrow Sound a couple of weeks ago. Every time I see Cebar, I think of that Woody Guthrie quote about how he hates a song that is out to make you feel that you are no good. Because Cebar does just the opposite. He's all about partying, celebration, but it's the people's party. I've known him and his music pretty much since I've moved to this town and his philosophy has been to dig, dig everywhere and and find great songs out of all sorts of american influences and cook them up together into something that just akes people smile and party and dance. He's like this rocking folkie, except he's not a folkie in the coffeehouse respect. He's more like a guy who understands the "folk" part of music, music that's made by and for the common folk, and he plays it. What a treasure he is. These days, I'm happy to see that he's got Mike Frederickson on the bass. I shamefully missed Frederickson's art opening yesterday, but he's another Milwaukee treasure, between his artwork and his other band, the Moseleys.
Nah, yesterday, I was at Rollaero, an old school skating rink with the kids. Hardwood floor, DJ playing the latest hits (I'm kind of depressed at what is popular hits these days-- OK, it's bad enough that your verses are rather droney but can't anybody write a chorus besides Gaga?), and flashing disco lights. Also a few (obviously regular) hot dogs skating too close to my son the beginner, and trying to impress my daughter the cynic. "Mom, that guy is really starting to creep me out," Stella said. Ah, I told her, in every skating rink there's a hotdog who spends the whole night trying to hit on underage girls (although this rink's hotdog was underage himself, unlike my generation's/rink's hotdot). It wouldn't be an oldschool rink without him. Just ignore him. He won't go away, but oh well.
Well, if the sun clears, I'm off to the Bay View Bash. I lvoe the Bay View Bash (as well as the Locust Street Festival) because both wait until the fall. We still need a good street festival, but at least it's into the fall, for those of us who aren't ready -- despite the kids being back in school and work hunkering down -- to admit it's not summer anymore.