July 3, 2012 – Volume 14, Issue 5
I N · T H I S · I S S U E
FLANIGAN'S ECO-LOGIC
Basking in the New England Spring
Back from eight fulfilling days in New York and New England, some work and a lot of fun.
Ah yes, the sights and smells of a New England Spring. You can taste the spring: verdant, alive, and bursting forth with green. Poison ivy is in. I do love New England, the deciduous forests of maple, ash, and beech, the gentle coast so perfect for sailing, my great family and friends who live there. So many memories, biking, skating, soccer, sailing. And Amory used to tease me about my love of lawns.
Elementary school reunion. Yes, and for my brothers too; East Woods School in Oyster Bay. I transferred there from St. Bernard’s in third grade. Meet Mr. Gay and friends for life like Henry, Foerd, Art, Wisner, Stephen, and Chris. Neighbors like the Parkinsons, Reigels, Perkins, Lindsays, and Johnsons.
Brother Russell’s class comes in force: Thomas, Fred, Geordie, and Andrew. We drop in to their warm-up party of unending stories and wine and a broken chair. They party late. I’m consumed in my memories, fulfilled watching these friends together. They fall in easily. Why do we allow quality friendships to distance?
We visit the school. Despite several additions, the main building gets smaller by the decade. The entry way, once so grand, almost a joke. There’s Mr. Brengle’s office. Mr. Wise for shop, science, art, Mr. Bartlett and jock straps. Lots of memories, and mostly good ones for me.
A decade of graduates greying, balding, and more. Some need name tags; others spitting images of their fathers and mothers. Some are just the same, others “thicker.” Some have had tragedy, others great success. I hear classmates talking, “If I had known you were in Colorado, I’d have given you a ride here in my corporate jet.”
The old school building’s third floor is like a sweat shop. Picture Mrs. Beers: late, hot, and bothered. Downstairs, where we used to have juice and cookies, photos of sports team line the hallways. “Remember that guy?” Our “upper-classmen,” student tour guides, one Hanson and one Hopkinson, are indentured. We liberally reminiscence, from Frothinghams to Sullivans, Sheelines and Smythes. Foerd, Billy, and I check out the original recycling site on campus.
I’m honored to announce this year’s winner of the James E. Gay award, given each year to the alumnus and alumna who have pursued their passions. My classmate Chris is its recipient, a gentle giant who’s hard at work with cancer research. He manages a tumor bank, teaches at Harvard Medical School, and maintains trails in Franconia Notch for balance. He gives a classy, understated talk about his deep passion for his profession. Three cheers.
It’s a great group of some 70 alum and a handful of daring spouses. So many on a roll, big ideas, visions, and projects. Software, robotics, and clean tech; education and Bobby Deming. We talk environment. Emily and Conservation Law Foundation; Rusty invests in renewables in Asia. We swap notes and revel in progress. Our friend Guy scorned for his hydraulic frakking investments. I catch up with my seventh grade/first girlfriend. She seems to be doing just fine without me; a lodge on a lake in New Hampshire.
Struck by the tranquility and beauty of the North Shore of Long Island, the Gold Coast. Like a communion, we breathe in the fresh evening air, rich in oxygen. The water is calm and like glass, the afternoon wind long gone. A Seawahnaka Yacht Club evening overlooking the moorings, ships at peace, reflections of their masts on the water.
Three days, five parties later capped by an unending brunch, rekindled friendships and memories rich in our hearts and souls, we part, vowing to stay in close touch.
Long Island Railroad to the City; taxi downtown. The sun has brought out the Sunday masses. The sidewalks are bustling, yet there is a weekend calm. We pass busy bike lanes, shorts, summer hats, and colorful dresses. The parks are full and festive. Everyone in Manhattan is out enjoying the June afternoon. It’s the best of the City.
We hit the East Village; a four-floor walk-up. A new restaurant across the street features organic everything, from free-range chicken to organic beer and wine. We cab to a favorite spot, its ceiling adorned with hundreds of chandeliers for sale. A lot of bulbs dimmed, a lot of hefty price tags too. Dinner of tapas and wine and catching up with Kristin’s Manhattan lifestyle.
Terry and I take a long, post-prandial walk through Alphabet City, she holds me tight at times. We stop and listen to jazz, sharing a beer in the warm, Second Avenue summer evening.
Jet Blue to Burlington to see my nephews three. We eat, drink, and play Wii. Ayden and Kieran would say that my tennis needs help, golf too! I redeem myself bowling. After dinner, Russell, Jake, Molly, and I hit the North-end streets and play lacrosse. Out of control. When was the last time you cradled a lacrosse stick?
Growing like weeds these Flanigans they are. The next day, I tag along with Hermine to drop the kids at school. It’s crazy hair day; I meet the teachers. Laurie and I eat seitan reuben sandwiches for lunch. We all sail Lake Champlain that afternoon. Sun, wind, rain, and more. The next generation happy to avoid high winds and rain. Skipper Laurie avoids a downpour by scooting into Shelbourne Bay. The wind dies, we motor to mooring, and Zodiac to Queen City Park shore. Laurie and Laura live there, a group of cottages nestled together along the lake, shared chicken coops. Bohemian.
Big day: Up early and heading to Massachusetts with Russell.
Up the hill to UVM, along the green past Waterman, and then Main to the Interstate. We motor past Williston and Richmond. The hills are alive, the green mountains lush and so special. I gaze at my favorite Vermont peak, Camels Hump, still there and longing for me. The interstate takes us up and down, weaving through the Green Mountain State, past Montpelier and Barre. We power down I-89 to New Hampshire, and just across the Connecticut River, the pristine scenery of the Green Mountain State abruptly ends.
Vermont banned billboards in 1968. New Hampshire certainly has not. In Vermont, new billboards were prohibited, and owners were given five years to remove all others. Vermont’s action followed Lady Bird Johnson’s efforts to promote and pass the Highway Beautification Act of 1965 which limited placement of billboards and also required junk yards to be screened.
Why don’t all states follow suit? Answer: The first Amendment and right to free speech. The U.S. Supreme Court apparently first heard arguments in this case in 1909. Vermont is one of four states that have banned billboards. Others are Alaska (at time of statehood in 1959), Hawaii 1927, and Maine 1979. Sao Paulo banned the billboard in 2007. Toronto has a special tax for billboards that supports art in the City.
We hit Boston after a brief stop on the Cape, Duxbury to be exact. My older brother and his wife are “Pottery-Barning” their cottage there. We eat blueberry muffins and walk around the bog. Russell and I join Sierra and Chad for EcoMotion meetings that afternoon at our office at the Cambridge Innovation Center (CIC) on the Charles. Sierra and I head to her Prospect Street apartment, a menagerie of sorts thanks to visiting four-leggeds Bronco and Scout.
Long day, and now back in Waltham at the Moody Station Studios. Buddy Mike’s on his own after his squeeze of 21 years is calling it quits. Are you guys sure? The Studios have been there for 25 years now; low rents and hugely creative spirits. We stay up late solving the world’s problems. I thirst in the energy; there are paintings everywhere. Mike likes to paint five big canvases at a time.
Affectionately known as the “purple line,” more accurately, the Fitchburg commuter rail line. It’s barely operable. The creaky old train lumbers through the woods; a young gal wears her conductor’s hat with pride and tradition. I ask directions and she’s sure to keep an eye out for me. Bounce at Porter Square, hit the red line to Kendall Square, cut through the hotel, and voila, One Broadway and the Cambridge Innovation Center.
Sierra, Chad, and I visit three client colleges – Fisher, Bryant, and Wheaton – and advance project concepts for campus greening services at each stop. Greening campuses is happening in real time. Two want to go solar given Massachusetts' attractive solar renewable energy credits (SRECs). We visit a potential solar site in Attleboro. Bryant is looking to increase its STARs rating. We check out the orchard’s growth at Wheaton, and head back to Kendall Square.
The CIC’s Venture Café is alive with networking, beer and wine. I meet a retired Boston cop now going into the solar business. We talk tiers. I meet new start-up company leaders, so fresh with ideas and energy. Later Sierra, Mike, and I watch the Celtics lose to the Heat at the Druid Cafe.
National Grid’s new U.S. headquarters is impressive. It’s a LEED Platinum building whose 3% marginal cost exemplifies opportunities for cutting costs and carbon, while creating productive and pleasant work environments. Michael McAteer doesn’t skip a beat or miss a single thing to be enthusiastic about. It’s contagious.
We interview web designers and rekindle the EcoMotion Network. I meet and thank intern Ariel Zhang for her graphic works. She and her husband recently came to American from China to advance their educations. Sierra and I have dinner at the home of Boston’s composting guru, Bruce Belford; we talk New Alchemy days and swap tales from our eco-ventures.
Am I missing New England? New York? Sure, so very great to visit.