This is from the top of one of the long, steep hills on today’s cycling expedition with friend Dave. Looking west, we see the foothills of the Cascade Mountains in the distance.
While the Rifftides staff tackles a couple of deadline assignments, blogging will be intermittent, with entries squeezed in as time allows.






The nonagenarian pianist presented de Barros with every biographer’s hope, unrestricted access to his subject’s personal papers and nearly unrestricted access to her private thoughts. He made the most of it, turning exhaustive research and hundreds of hours of interviews into a true story with the sweep of a novel. From the early discovery of McPartland’s musical gift through her wartime service, her ecstatic and stormy marriage to Jimmy McPartland, her growth as a pianist, her deep affair with Joe Morello, and the radio show that made her a national figure, she has had a fascinating life. It makes a splendid read.
Mulligan’s Concert Jazz Band had three fewer musicians than most big jazz outfits. Its size permitted precision, flexibility and subtlety, yet the band had the power of sprung steel. In this concert from a half century ago, the CJB is as fresh as yesterday. Arrangements by Mulligan, Bob Brookmeyer, Al Cohn and Johnny Mandel set standards to which big band writers still aspire. Bassist Buddy Clark and drummer Mel Lewis inspired Mulligan, Brookmeyer, Conte Candoli, Gene Quill and Zoot Sims to some of the best soloing of their careers. This beautifully produced issue of the complete concert is a basic repertoire item.
This splendid road could be one on which I, as an 18-year-old army Pfc, drove a two-and-a-half-ton 6X6 truck pulling a 105 mm howitzer to and from maneuvers in the Yakima Valley in the spring of 1948.
Looks like home to me! I was born in Othello, north of you, and spent many summers there with my maternal grandparents. My grandfather loved to drive around that country, exploring. We even went over to see them building the Grand Coulee Dam.
I envy you looking at that picture. I’ve cycled a lot in upstate N.Y., but that’s not the same panorama. Last year I cycled around Lake Garda in Italy, tough job being already 39, but the vista was downright stunning all the time. Gee, gratifications. Next time my best friend and I will try the Pyrenees.
39! You poor old fella. Hang in there.