Shall We Dance?

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Latin rhythms are infectious. Who can sit still? I once saw Tito Puente, the King of Latin Music, and his band play at The Blue Note in NYC. It was so stirring I may have bobbed my Anglo head from side to side. I was surprised, though, how few people ventured into the dance area during the time I was shooting at the Hispanic Festival. I'm more of a lurker, a voyeur at these events.

The man dancing mano a mano in the second picture takes a good portrait. I wondered if he was channeling Jimi Hendrix. The young guys with better haircuts than me (well, just better hair) in the last picture are Mormon missionaries having a bit of lunch. I didn't see them interacting with the crowd. Wonder what they do for fun?

Happy Monday, Or, Para Los Niños

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Hello to the beginning of the work week. Ever feel like this on Monday morning?

The Hispanic Festival had something for everyone, including children. Well, maybe not stiff, boring WASPS but definitely good stuff for the kiddies - face painting, balloon animals and hats, and puppets. They had a musical show so why en la tierra were they singing in English rather than Spanish? The music was recorded, of course, and it would have been so easy: para bailar La Bamba se necicita una poca de gracia...

That boy at the bottom is one of my better portraits, IMHO. Such liquid eyes.

¡Manos Arriba!

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Manos arriba - hands up! - the singer kept calling as people hit the dance floor at the first full day of our Hispanic Festival. Opening night Friday was cut short by the thunderstorms but Saturday's weather was simply perfect. Above, the drummer gives me his blessing. Below, everyone has a good time, including the photographer. Some video at the bottom.

Rain's Coming

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I mentioned that there is a lot going on around town this weekend. The annual Hispanic Festival was to start yesterday in Kiener Plaza, a block from where I work. The plan was to do some shooting at the end of the day but a violent thunderstorm rolled in. The top view looks southwest toward Market Street. The clouds broke open moments later and I ran back to my office (to the extent that my knees are able to do so).

The Cardinals were to play the Milwaukee Brewers an hour later. The stadium would normally be filling up with fans around that time. The bottom picture was taken from my office with a long lens. Empty, very wet stands.

À la recherche du temps perdu

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A bit more from What's On Second in Birmingham. You could fashionably decorate your entire home by spending a few hours here.

There are lots more B'ham pictures but I need to get back home. Lots going on in The Lou this weekend - look for something tomorrow.

TIME MARCHES ON: it occurred to me that yesterday was the 38th anniversary of my admission to the bar. Long time, makes me feel a bit elderly. And, if I keep the usual schedule, STL DPB with publish its 2,000th post next weekend. Any suggestions for what I should do about it?

What's On Second

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Those of us old enough to remember Abbot and Costello know the classic baseball comedy skit Who's On First. Full original version here. Note the name of Lou Abbott's baseball team.

Birmingham has a variation on the theme, the store What's On Second (so named because it's on 2nd Avenue). Technically, you could call it an antique store but that term doesn't convey the ambiance. It's more of a warehouse of American cultural debris from the 20th century. It's got more junk than you could possibly imagine, all of it fascinating. These are but a few examples. By the way, the picture of Ozzie Osborne below was in a coffin. More of these tomorrow.

'Bama Q

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On Monday, Virginia took us to lunch at Birmingham institution, Saw's Soul Kitchen. This hovel is a temple of Alabama barbecue and Southern cooking. 

Feeling completely lost, I asked the lady at the counter what I should eat. (I often do that when I'm in an unfamiliar eatery. It works.) So, that's my meal in the second picture: grits covered in collard greens covered in pulled pork (light sauce, a bit tart and vinegary, perfect on the greens) covered in onion rings (the lightest I've ever tasted). Yum-umm-y, but not endorsed by 9 out of 10 cardiologists.

As you can see in the following pictures, the locals take their BBQ seriously. The tiny place is so busy that spillover seating is on a picnic table in the alley.

I wondered where the name Saw's came from. An occasionally reliable source with a thorough knowledge of B'ham culture and history informs me that decades ago the owner was known as Sorry Ass Wilson. It stuck, if only in an acronym.

Hope to get back to commenting on my friends' blogs later today. We got up at 4 this morning to make our early flight home. Need to go to sleep.