Four years ago I wrote several articles about the Mariner trip to Switzerland [1][2][3][4]. Our time there felt like a week of unending exuberance, late night musical adventures, wild hubris, and general merriment. This trip contained those same elements, but also included moments of reflection on how we’ve all changed. Some changes are wonderful; a handful of new marriages; a new found love; a few of the cutest new babies around. Some changes are painful; the ending of a relationship; the death of a spouse; the tragic accident of friend, and the devastating impact it has on all those around him. In one short week we were all reminded that there are tears for all occasions.

The changes in our lives have made me think a lot about the character of the Mariners, its members, and the extended family of girlfriends, wives, and children that are integral to the fabric of who we are. These changes have made me question my sense of what is really valuable and made me want to better understand the people that I get to be with, both here and abroad.

With all this introspection, a number of clichés come to mind: That which does not kill you makes you stronger; There can’t be a light without a dark. It is easy to say such things. People do all the time. But to live them is much harder. This was a week where the Mariners lived this. We lived it in the rehearsal where each of us fought back tears while playing music for a man sitting in his wheelchair as he shouted “Massimo forever!!!” in a voice we’ve never heard. And we lived it in a thousand other ways that I am not fit to explain or write.

We also lived it with our performance in the center of Basel, in front of thousands of people; a drum line, depleted with tragedy and retirement, turning in a fantastically sharp performance; the first ever live performance of a complex thirty year old fife solo, brought back to life after being on the brink of extinction; powerful chanteys from a group of men that don’t live near an ocean and shouldn’t have a right to sing like they do, but they do it anyway. These are just a few of the very bright moments, according to those in attendance, made much brighter by the dark backdrop upon which they were placed.

After a week of sharing drinks, playing the music that formed our bonds, and singing like there was no tomorrow, when in fact there is, the parting moments arrived. The gravity of our farewells weighed heavily upon us, maybe more than ever. I have pride in knowing that every gram of our souls was put into this week of fifes, drums, songs, stories, jokes, laughter, and tears. We made the most of our time together, because, after all, nobody really knows what tomorrow will bring. This much is for certain, when we see each other again, more change will have affected our lives. Some changes will be for the better, some for the worse. We know this now. We have lived it.

Still, none of that can stop me from raising my glass to all our friends and praying that the days between now and when we meet again bring happiness and health. Cheers!!!

Apparently, so will at least one of the ‘Fying Wallendas.’

Now, as if these guys weren’t fascinating enough on their own merits, I have some dim memories of childhood when every stupid acrobatic thing I tried (that mostly ended in disaster) was referred to as “tryouts for ‘The Flying Wallendas’”  So there you have it: for me- hometown parade, hometown memories.  Hope to see some of you there.

Then send your message to the sun
And worlds that from where heroes come

Back home to hear on Muster day

 The stirring songs that once they played

And view the Ancients grand parade

From secret shadow, silent shade.

Frivolity follows, and Little Dick on the griddle comes up with pancakes like this:

We then began a rousing game of ‘Who’s under the bear head?’

Play along at home!

Exhibit A:

Another view:

A little more challenging?

Exhibit B:

Another view:

Apparently, she could reach that high.  Actually, I’m a little bit scared of bears with swords, let’s go to Mystic.

Once in Mystic, we found the little people still about:

Oh, and here’s the littlest!

Well, that pretty much wraps up what was St.Patrick’s Month for the Mariners.

And all the good little boys and girls went sleepy-bye.

A shot of your friendly neighborhood barstaff, Neil O’Brien, the Chief Chanteyman and Kevin Brown, the Commodore, in their native habitat.

We then adjourned to our annual season kickoff party in New London.  We try and time this to coincide with the Hygienic Arts Festival, where our contribution is an uninvited and impromptu parade and pub crawl.

All went well, and Greg Bacon, neatly attired and newly iphoneified, spent as much time blogging as he did fifing.

The beer flowed freely, there were even a few margaritas thrown in for good measure.

The only down part of the evening came with a bit of false advertising:

We were summarily not invited in for a beer, or anything else.  “The onliest place in town we WEREN’T welcome.”

We also enjoyed having some members of the Old Guard hanging out for the evening (and the morning after).  Might be a rough Monday at Fort Myer.  We’re sorry Sgt Major Rock. (photos withheld to protect the guilty)

All in all, a great day, and the season is off and stumbling.

I turned my fourteenth shaky U-turn away from the walkers and back to Massi and Phil, just in time to see Phil doing his best Superman imitation over the handlebars, heading (literally) for the sidewalk.

In a breathless moment, he landed, skidded, rolled, recovered.  Momentary panic on my part, then, back on his feet!  A perfect ten!  If it hadn’t been for Phil and his quick thinking, some 95 year old house frau and her seven schnauzers might have become some sort of flattened international incident.  But no.  Not with Phil at the wheel.  He swerves, he misses, he gives it up to save her.  And yet, no one witnessed it but Massi and I.

Back in the States, at our Annual Mariner Awards Party, we relived Phil’s heroic late night ride with the gift of this fine conveyance, shown with our model, Rogi, to give you an idea of scale.

Here’s to Mr Phil Ritchie, International Hero!

Stonington - When state voters had the chance to decide Nov. 4 to allow 17-year-olds to vote in primaries if they turned 18 by the general election, Corey Prachniak was especially thrilled.

”When I got my absentee ballot in the mail and I saw it, I was really excited. It’s all about getting people involved, and I think this will enable schools to teach students better about primaries,” Prachniak said of the ballot question, which voters approved by a wide margin.

The Georgetown University senior, who is majoring in government, was part of a group of Stonington High School students who first floated the idea before state lawmakers in 2005.

Social studies teacher Richard Walter said his government students that year were discussing the history of voting rights when students asked whether voting could be opened to younger people. Research revealed that the U.S. Constitution’s 26th Amendment forbade denying people over 18 the right to vote but did not prohibit voting at a younger age – and that many other states already allowed 17-year-olds to vote in primaries.

”We were all kind of political science geeks, so we would spend a lot of time talking about this kind of stuff in private,” Prachniak said.

Walter abetted their wonkiness by reaching out to local lawmakers, and four students addressed the Government Administration and Elections Committee that year, including Prachniak.

”[Y]ou don’t really have full voting rights at 18 if you can’t select who you’re going to be voting for at 18,” he said before the committee in 2005.

Lawmakers, especially State Rep. James Spallone, D-Essex, expressed optimism about the idea. But Walter said he learned that what his students proposed as a bill would have to be a state constitutional amendment, and the idea grew dormant. Spallone contacted him in Winter 2007 to help reintroduce the idea, Walter said, and students again participated, this time by discussing the issue with Spallone and Secretary of the State Susan Bysiewicz, who supported the amendment.

It passed on Election Day, and the state joins nearly 20 others in permitting younger voters a say in primaries.

”I was very happy,” Walter said. “It was kind of strange because there was so little attention given to it. Even now, I’m still out there, trying to bring it to people’s attention that this was a student-driven initiative.”

Here’s Citizen Dick, not in teaching garb, another fine example of Mariners making a somewhat different contribution to our Communities.  Good Man Richard!

Some readers of Bacon’s blog may remember his photo essay.

For anyone unfamiliar with the Firehouse, the universal verdict upon a first visit is that “it has a lot of potential.” I share their enthusiasm, though I admit, I do occasionally wonder what I’ve gotten myself into and if they just can’t think of anything else nice to say.

This is the state of the place this morning, as we’ve repaired and are repainting the walls.  Rehearsal tonight at 7pm.  Anyone wonder what I’m doing today?

The barkeep was a little confused by Massi’s request for “wooden spoons” and replied in his best Boston, “Ya meen lahk sah-lad spuhns?”

You can see the metal soup spoon result of great moments in International communication.