Month: March 2017

The Non-Digital Interconnectedness of Things

Continuing (from the previous post) with the theme of how One Darn Thing Leads to Another …

Last night, I watched episode four of HBO’s new series, “Big Little Lies” (Kim bailed after the third episode, but I still find it intriguing).  In one scene, the background music brought my ears immediately to attention — it was a verse from Jefferson Airplane’s 1967 “White Rabbit”.

And, of course, this brought to mind some previous White Rabbit-ness as blogged here a few years ago.

Then this morning I find an totally unrelated email from Bill, my old photography partner in LA, not having heard from him for a week or so, in which he directed (as he often does) my gaze to a story and a related YouTube video, this time a long-lost vocals-only track of Grace Slick, the ‘Airplane’s lead singer doing, yes, “White Rabbit” (and he suggests listening via headphones):

And on it goes …

Dogfish, the Codfather and Iowa

Regular readers and family know that my niece Gabrielle has lived for years in the Cape Code region and has been close to the fishing industry there. And other relatives hail from nearby Boston.

Last night we saw an encore piece on the PBS Newshour about the problem of sustainable fishing in that part of the world and efforts to promote harvesting of plentiful species such as “dogfish”.

One of the purveyors cited in the piece as promoting sustainable species was an organization called Sea to Table. So I immediately looked up the website and dashed off email to inquire about dogfish. When I awoke this morning, I found that I had a cheerful and detailed response from Eliza of Sea to Table, telling me that dogfish is among the seafood that they intend to make available for home delivery, along with the half-dozen or so core species now on the mail-order menu.

No sooner than I closed that message and turned to reviewing the morning news, I came across this fascinating MoJo piece on “The CodFather”.

But, wait: there’s more! Next I see another MoJo piece on Iowa fish farming, of all things. Iowa, the birthplace of not only Gabrielle, but her father, and, of course, myself.