Vodka on the Rocks
(Jeff Henderson’s Funky Rock Beverage Dispenser. Photo Socotra.)
Sorry- I am disoriented by a lot of the circus that masquerades as our democratic process, and Columbus Day isn’t helping me out. Maybe you are too, unless you are retired and every day is Saturday. I am not, at least not until we do the Thelma-and-Louise drive off the cliff in January when the Sequestration thing kicks in and my industry gets killed.
The suspense is killing me. It is enough to drive a poor contractor to drink.
The radio is telling me that traffic is light but still confused, since the reversible lanes are not reversed, parking regulations are not being enforced, and all the trains are not running.
That has the unintended consequence of driving more people into their cars to get where they are going. Apparently it is a national holiday of some sort, though to be fair, that aspect of the legal holiday has been under acute revision by the weight of collective mass guilt we are supposed to be feeling about other transients who moved into the Americas from less inviting climes.
I am ambivalent. The company does not honor the holiday, but stays above controversy. The HR people utilize a convenient mechanism to avoid the matter altogether: they grant us two “floating” holidays that “can be used to honor days of special personal significance.”
So, should I choose to celebrate my Italian- or Portuguese- heritage, I am perfectly free to do so. It is sort of like Veteran’s Day, I think, which is a holiday for Government civilians and a working day for Veterans in the private sector.
Likewise the festival of St. Patrick, should I be inclined to head down to the pub and start celebrating, early and in earnest.
That could be an option this morning, since I am eager to try out some vodka on the rocks. Real rocks.
You may not be able to get water from a stone, but there are alternatives. I discovered an intriguing and sustainable delivery system for my favorite adult beverage. You can get them through a remarkable gallery Up North- the Painted Bird, of Suttons Bay, west of Traverse City and on the way only to the Indian casino and the lighthouse at Northport.
The Bird is open every day of the year except Christmas:
It is run by a friend who I have known since before the Cuban Missile Crisis, and stocks an astonishing amount of beautiful things made by hundreds of artists and craftsmen. They tend to be local folks, which makes it part of the sustainable movement I believe in, but of course interesting pieces can come from anywhere.
This particular one hails from artist Jeff Henderson, of Dover, New Hampshire. Handmade from natural stones found along the coast of New England and fixed with a stainless steel spigot with a stone lever, Jeff’s sturdy and sophisticated drink dispenser “adds instant pizazz to any event,” which by my lights applies to Columbus Day morning and a crisp bloody mary, crafted with Clamato juice, two shots of Popov Vodka, a strip of dill pickle and a celery stalk, some coarse black pepper, a little sea salt and a splash of lime and Frank’s Louisiana Hot Sauce.
You can see a YouTube demonstration, featuring Jeff himself in all his artisan’s glory. He has eschewed pretense and demonstrates his product dressed exactly as he is:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vHPQ50x8WjQ
Jeff is now the small-business engine known as Funky Rock Designs, of Dover, New Hampshire. His studio is in one of the Washington Street Mills that harnessed the power of the Cocheco River to make textiles. From the mighty mill machinery flowed a river of cloth that was sold around the world. The relentless cycle of competition and capitalism killed the mills, though.
Cheaper product from southern cotton mills, a couple bad fires, and finally the Great Depression all contributed to their demise, and by the time Jeff was first hauling lobster pots out of the Atlantic, the big brick structures were falling into ruin.
Thing turned around in the Reagan Administration. Developers purchased the ramshackle mills and began to restore them. Today, Dover’s old manufacturing district is alive with creativity.
(Jeff’s original rock lamps. Not lava, just stone. Photo Jeff Henderson).
Jeff and I have a bit in common- an “industrial” accident made us both re-think what we do to pass the working hours. Jeff used to make his living in a traditional manner, for someone who lives near the shore in rock-ribbed New Hampshire. He was a lobster man, and there are plenty of ways to get yourself killed doing that.
Jeff told an interviewer that he liked working inshore waters, and the way the bottom has fallen out of the lobster market, it probably was a great decision. Today, he searches the shores of the Atlantic “looking for beautiful and functional rocks that whisper beauty.”
They more than whisper to me, since I nearly dropped the bolder on my foot when I was taking it out of the box. This is serious art- heavy. I guess he started with other decorative things like lamps. People seemed to like them- a particular favorite of mine was a key holder made out of a real rock, rather than the fake plastic ones. Is that elegant, or what?
But I fell in love with the booze dispenser.
Right now mine is sitting down at the farm. Since this is a quasi-holiday, I could drive back down there and get some actual work done. But once on the farm, and at peace in the country, I have to say that every day seems like Columbus Day.
Copyright 2012 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com
