Beacon Dispatch

Editorial: Things That Go BOOM! WHINE! ROAR! In the Night

Few things are as pleasant as a cool summer night, when the humidity is low and the temperatures dip in the 60's. Too often on sticky summer nights the house is hermetically sealed with air conditioners running in every room. Opening the windows and letting in the fresh air is a rare pleasure. Until your ears are assaulted by the unholy racket that also comes with the warmer weather. The main offenders? Leaf blowers, low riders, and Harleys.

Fiction: A Mountain of Wood

by Charles R. Smith Jr.

“In great attempts, it is glorious even to fail.” - Bruce Lee

    “Paper or wood?” Kyoshi  asks me.
    This is it. The last test before I get my brown belt. I’ve already earned the belt, but I want to break a board.
    “Wood. I wanna punch wood.”
    “Are you sure you want to do a reverse punch, Candace? You might have a better chance with a side kick. Your legs are very powerful, you know.” Kyoshi  says.
    “A punch. I wanna do a punch,” I tell him, trying to catch my breath. Ever since I saw Nick try to punch through a board during his brown belt test, I’ve been waiting to try it during mine. He couldn’t do it, but I probably can. I always beat him whenever we spar.

 

Fiction: Saint Iggy

by KL Going

“If you try, you will find it impossible to do one great thing . . .”
Mother Teresa
(1910-1997)

“The judgement whether a people is virtuous or not virtuous can hardly be passed by a human being.”
Adolf Hitler, 1939

1.
So I got kicked out of school today, which is not so great but also not entirely unexpected, and I went back to Public Housing where I live to tell my parents all about it but my mom went visiting someone or other and probably isn’t coming back and my dad is stoned off his ass on the couch like he always is, so somehow I’m not getting the vibe that he’d really, you know, care, so I think – here’s what I’m going to do: first I’ve got to make a plan. And this is part of the plan – making a plan – so really I’m doing good already.

If my dad were awake part of the plan would be telling him about the trouble at school so he would know it was not entirely my fault. This is how it happened:

Me: (coming in late to Spanish class because I followed a hot new girl) Can I sit here?

An excerpt from the play, "Five 'Til"

by Edwin Lee Gibson

This here the story of  Pepe le Mouse
Mouse from the Bottom tryin’ to get on the top
But try as he might he always met up with trouble
This is the tale ‘bout how the rats would burst his bubble
He wasn’t what his folks wanted- what they wanted was a skunk
So they named him Pepe after that cartoon-skunk hunk.
Pepe grew up on the tracks like ev’ry other mouse
Tryin’ to escape the rats always ready to pounce

Aw, Pepe le Pew.
Cheese or Fondue?
Aw, Pepe le Mouse- without a doubt. 

Recipe: August Explosion

Late summer is the best time to cook with vine ripened vegetables straight from the farm

by Bruce Beaty

August is upon us, and while it tortures us with dog days of relentless heat, on the farm it is a month of unrivaled abundance. The sizzling weather provides us with a dazzling array of fruits and vegetables that need only a minimum of attention and cooking to coax out their singular flavors. To best appreciate these simple delights, the quality and freshness of ingredients is paramount.

There are a number of benefits to buying your produce from a local farm. First, it tastes better.  You’re buying a product that’s at its freshest, and the thrill of eating something "just picked" is a revelation. Second, it’s good for the planet. You’re not spending dollars and wasting fossil fuels to have something shipped from across the country or world. Third, you support your local economy. You know the people who grow your food and are supporting their commitment to sustainable agriculture.

This is the time to look to small farms, independent organic farmers, and roadside markets for the best of what the season has to offer. As a chef, I know that people like to talk to those who cook their food -- they enjoy that connection. I, too, am inspired and excited by the people who grow our food and provide us with the treasures that make cooking fun, rewarding, and nutritious.  Here in Beacon, we are fortunate to have the talent and passion of farmers Joe and Rebecca Schwen at work at the Common Ground Farm, a vital center of organic farming here in Dutchess County. They expect to be harvesting an exciting selection of heirloom tomatoes, potatoes, peppers, squash, eggplant, onions, edemame, green beans and celeriac (also known as celery root.) Tomatoes dominate this month's issue, and rightly so. They and corn just seem to be the emblem of summer to me.

All of these recipes are vegetarian, but could serve as sides to almost any protein you choose as a main dish. All are simple to make. In fact, some require no cooking at all. 

Beacon Voices: Jim Eve

by Jack Sine

While everyone knows about the growth of the arts community in Beacon, few are aware that the art of the written word also flourishes here, thanks mainly to the efforts of one man – Jim Eve.

Jim has a long background in poetry having honed his poetic skills at the Second Sunday Poetry Group and The Hudson Valley Writers Association, both in Poughkeepsie. He has been the featured poet at poetry reading venues all over the tri-state area and has had his work published in several poetry journals.

When Jim joined the board of directors of the Howland Cultural Center he saw an opportunity to bring poetry to Beacon and started a poetry reading group of his own titled “Calling All Poets”. It meets the second Friday of every month at the Howland Center and features well known poets from the tri-state area. It also provides open mike time for aspiring poets to read their poetry.

We recently had an opportunity to sit down with Jim and ask him about his poetic background.

Humor: Questionable Practices

by Jack Sine

    Kids and questions – a duo as inseparable as peanut butter and jelly and as unendurable as Chinese water torture. Stir in a sense of timing that can only be called mystical and you have a source of aggravation that could drive a saint up a clock tower with a hunting rifle.
    The scene: Me, alone in the house on a Sunday afternoon. No kids in evidence anywhere. At last a chance to finish that book I’ve been reading for three months. I settle into my chair. I open the book. I begin the first sentence of the final chapter. And, poof!, out of thin air appear three interrogative midgets.
    “Daddy, can  you take us to Adventure Park?”
    “Daddy, can I sleep over at Mary’s?”
    “Daddy, can we go to McDonald’s for lunch?”
    “Daddy, can we go to the movies?”
    “Daddy, can I go to Wisconsin with Jimmy?”
    “Daddy, can I paint the car?”

Essay: Summertime

by Sharon Watts

     Where is that Atomic Café tee shirt that I bought on a 1997 southwest road trip with Sally that included Los Alamos? I want to pair it up with my Laura Petrie plaid capris  and stroll down Main Street on a Second Saturday.
     Another relic, a coral-colored, cap-sleeved, part-poly souvenir of the Elvis Presley Museum at Pigeon Forge, TN, often takes me down the peanut butter aisle at ShopRite. And my circle skirt with the gondolas of Venetian canals swirling at its border? It spreads its circumference along the banks of the Fishkill Creek as I “mangia” with friends at George and Kazumi’s bar-b-que.