When I was beginning in my life of music, I had big dreams of playing in theaters like the ones I am traveling to now for the Theater Tour. As a kid, those old ornate palaces, so beautiful and grand. . . . . just left me in awe. So now, as our bus crosses North America and I sit in the front window playing my D18 that Larry Cragg did his magical guitar saver treatment to, now as we beat our way through sideways snow and threatening gusts of winter exhale, now as we greet the road like the old friend that is, hearing songs new and old in my head because I know what I have to do, now I’m getting ready to play for you in a magical palace built for art and its enjoyment.
The snow is gone and the ice remains. . . . as we traverse the midwest in its giant openness, miles greeting miles greeting us. There is quiet out here. I think that’s why Willie lives here and Bob lives here. Quiet and the chance to make music. What more of a lucky life could one ever enjoy?
The First Americans beat their drums and sang their songs. I honor them. They came long before me to the plains, the openness and they love it as I do. Look at those geese flying in formation against the cloudy sky, the biting cold a refreshing taste of reality.
Naturally, we travel together along the super slab, the country road, the path, the river, the openness. She knows how. We see the animals, the birds, the fish, the people, the geese again. So much beauty.
The songs are coming back. Here they are! Wow. They are are not the ones that usually show up. They are better known. Because they are easy to sing they are perfect. This is the moment to explore their grooves, their canyons, their computer history.
So when we meet in this place, I might not be aware of myself. I might be looking somewhere outside. I might be playing lost in the sound of the picture in our fine palace, but I hope I’m not thinking. . . .
ny
