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Pete Wood

@513petewood

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NYC Public teacher, Cincinnati Public teacher, Cincinnati Firefighter, now a teacher again. Songwriter, story writer, musician, potato cultivator.

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by @513petewood

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16 hours ago

Yet another legend of our family left our company this week. McChrystle Wood- artist supreme, mother, mentor, loving wife of Stan, vivid spirit and restless energy.

Among her many professional achievements, McChrystle was the head of the graphic design department at the University of Cincinnati’s DAAP school for many years. She created works of art her whole life and never stopped inventing, re-inventing, re-forming, re-imagining and questing. She broke through barriers and refused to be told what she could not do, what women could not do, or what could not be done.

She inspired young people and contemporaries, particularly women who dared, sometimes intimidating them, but always leaving an impression. Not one she met did not remember. Under a sharp tongue and lashing wit lay a heart that was tender, kind, and strong, and a mind that was prolific, perceptive, profound, and boundless in curiosity. Fascinating and fascinated.

When my mom died, McChrystle took her house and continued its life as a creative biome, constantly re-painting, sculpting, installing a massive weaving loom in the living room, and building a mythic-sized, spiral sculptural wall of stone (by hand) in the backyard that was transportive of Celtic antiquity. Her loom works won accolades across the Atlantic. Her realm was that of dream.

And she was my buddy. Another kindred soul who welcomed other misfit black sheep and encouraged us to listen to our hearts, embrace the creative process as healing, and turn our inspired madness into works to share with others.

A rebel, a poet, a mystic, a muse, and a dear friend.

Thank you Christy for all you gave us. We love you and will never forget you. by @513petewood

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13 days ago

THE POTATO DIARIES
Conclusion: Harvest

At the end of summer, your strong and beautiful plants will begin to limp. Then keel over. And wilt. And wither. And turn crispy.

Resist the temptation to water them. You may feel a pang of hope to revive them. Let this pass. Let go.

Do not be afraid. This is nature’s way. It happens to us all eventually.

What it means is that new life is on the verge of breakthrough. It means your potatoes are almost ready.

Let the raggedy, limp vines sit for a while. A week or two. Underground, your spuds will be forming a thicker protective skin.

Then it is time.

I dug mine on the fall equinox because I am ceremonial. Listen to your heart. Your potatoes will speak.

Dump the buckets somewhere you can root around in the dirt. Sift carefully- there are life-forms in there. In this dirt, you will find your treasure. Collect them. Greet them.

Some may be very small. That is okay. Small things need love too. You may wonder if some are potatoes or big pieces of gravel. Use your fingernail to tell.

Then, rinse them. Rejoice. And share them with your friends.

The miracle is complete. Life is reborn. In the spring, it all begins again.

And the cycle proceeds.

The end.

#thepotatodiaries by @513petewood

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22 days ago

Today- September 23, 2026, is the 100th birthday of John Coltrane. One of the greatest musical minds and souls to ever walk this earth. Whether or not you like jazz is irrelevant.

Very few people have ever achieved anything- on any instrument, tool, page, canvas, structure or landscape- comparable to what Coltrane achieved on the saxophone.

His notes reached other dimensions and took you there with them. By intention. His aims were, by every measure, spiritual. He soared and went in to trances and so did the people who could handle the ride. Few titans attain that in any medium.

His story was of triumph. Son of a preacher in segregated North Carolina. Serviceman in the US Navy. Dedicated father and family man. Conquerer of drug addiction. Innovator of the tenor, re-fashioner of the soprano. Showed the world another way of how music- without words- can exceed language and cross into realms of spirit that no words will ever touch.

He brought his boundless curiosity, intellect, scholarship, soul, physical body into making instrumentation an explicitly philosophical, spiritual, and religious experience for any listener who dared come with him. He knew genius was worthless without sustained, rigorous practice. And despite genius, he was a kind, humble, compassionate, good person. That is my favorite part. When he died young, he had reached apotheosis.

An indelible influence on my life. The saxophone was my first instrument (age 8). When I re-married it at the end of my teens, tumbling unhealthily fixated on becoming a jazz musician, practicing until my gums bled and I lost consciousness (before burning out and divorcing it forever), it was Coltrane guiding me. Those were not wasted years, but formative in teaching me what music was, how it worked, what it could do. And truly, it shaped the path, discipline, habits, and spiritual development of the rest of my life.

In no small part, Mr. Trane, you helped me become who I am. And there are lots of us. Thank you.

Peace, blessings, and a love supreme.

(Btw, the digital fakes of Meta have accused this essay of being “likely using AI”. I have never used it, never will, and resent the insult) by @513petewood

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24 days ago

Sometime, rest demands itself upon us! Thank you to those of you who came to see us last Thursday, and to the Southgate House Revival for their patience as we were forced to limp our way off to an early night. Please accept our apologies for cutting things short. As you know, health has the ultimate say over us all.

Fear not. We will be back to fight another day. You are not rid of us yet.

The Blue Rock Boys shall stomp and ruckus again. Thank you for sticking with us as we stumble through the ages with you.

Tá grá againn duit!
We love you. by @513petewood

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a month ago

by @513petewood

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a month ago

Good or terrible, life is full of surprises. You could say most of it is just those, punctuated by drudgery. Here is one for you.

The Blue Rock Boys are playing a surprise show this Thursday, September 17 at the Southgate House Revival. We just found out ourselves. How about that?

It’s kind of early (we start at 6:30), but it’s free as a buzzard in the raw. And they have drinks you can buy and drink them as we entertain you with stomping and stories and bold Irish songs and melodies of gallant intrigue. And surprise.

Go with things. Come to Kentucky and ruckus with us for no money. It will be good, and if it is terrible, tell me and I will buy you a taco.

Surprise yourself and others. With gumption!

Go dána, le grá. Agus iontas sláintiúil! taken in The Southgate House Revival by @513petewood

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a month ago

PART 4: HOMECOMINGS
Part 1: Reunions

Summer always ends. And when it does, it is good to have a reuniting of some sort. This year there were a few.

First, my college roommate Nolen Johnson and his brilliant wife Mary rolled through Cincinnati with their two excellent little people- Conrad, an astute 7, and his sister Daphne, a stealthy 3. They are a family of diplomats and language sponges, having lived all over Asia and Africa in their service to the US, including Kyrgyzstan where I last visited them. And here they were, mere hours away from moving to Riga, Latvia for the next few years, eager to soak up some Ohio River sophistication before embarking. How fortunate indeed.

That day also happened to be Frankie’s first anniversary “feast day”. I couldn’t think of a better way to honor him that to host friends. And I poured a vodka for him and got a bowl of his beloved hot fudge sundae from Graeter’s and it melted to soup.

Next time in Latvia, should the forces allow. Until then, we continue our work and studies and service and savor the blessing of having friendships that endure time and geographic expanse. And of having a home.

Visu labu!
Cheers. by @513petewood

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a month ago

Annual benediction:

Every day, we depend on the work of others.

The vehicles we ride, the roads we take, the bridges we cross, the buildings that house us, the faucets we run, the toilets we flush, the lights we turn on, the sidewalks we stroll, the parks we enjoy, the clothes that we wear, the food that we eat… somebody made these things. And somebody goes to work every day to keep these things maintained and safe for us all.

To all of them, I say thank you.

Respect the workers.

Happy Labor Day. by @513petewood

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a month ago

This Thursday- September 3: a dance party benefitting Cincinnati Immigrant Mutual Aid (CIMA) at the greatest bar in Cincinnati, the Comet. Featuring DJ Papito and your very own The Blue Rock Boys. 8 PM - 12 AM. Suggested donation $15.

Dancing and stomping and singing and burritos and mingling and drinking and friendship and supporting your neighbors and a good group of people trying to help them. What else?

To learn about the work of CIMA or make a donation, visit https://www.zeffy.com/en-US/donation-form/cincinnati-immigrant-mutual-aid-cima

¡Amor, fuerza y apoyo!
Lanmou, fòs, sipò!
माया, शक्ति, साथ!
Grá, neart agus tacaíocht!
🎗️🇺🇸🇲🇽🇬🇹🇭🇹🇭🇳🇻🇪🇨🇴🇵🇷🇩🇴🇳🇵🇮🇪🇺🇸🎗️ by @513petewood

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2 months ago

If nothing else, love her for the “Imagination Library”. Look it up. But also:

How many singer / songwriter / entertainers can you name that had all of the above?

1. Voracious work ethic as if God-given abilities were not at play.

2. Deft fluidity and willingness to work with people across every genre and culture in a complicated country, and knowing why that is important.

3. Humility to downplay multiple talents and accomplishments.

4. Intent to share ones success with others, particularly children in poverty.

5. Steadfastness in never forgetting ones roots.

6. Standing up for others lambasted by bullies.

7. Ability to laugh at oneself.

8. One of music’s most beautiful voices anyway.

We love you, Dolly. Thank you. by @513petewood

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2 months ago

Christopher / Otis Johnson- one of my first students and always one of the smartest, funniest, quickest, warmest of heart and truest of character. I can still see his precise, almost calligraphy-level handwriting, insightful responses and hear that distinct, gravelly, playful chuckle. Decades on, he always would check in and show love. A presence no one forgot, nor will we.

I can only imagine how much his closest are hurting today. The whole Brooklyn Leadership family will always remember you, sir.

Peace and blessings until we meet again. by @513petewood

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2 months ago