Last night in the room, after I played guitar and the Tele banjo, I watched Jupiter Ascending, a film by the Wachowski brothers (makers of The Matrix, etcetera). I liked it well enough, but found myself taking a break a couple of times.
Sleep was deep in the dark hotel room (thanks for curtains that close out all the light). I woke up, packed my stuff, and walked again a mile each way to Whole Foods for a juice and a couple other items.
The morning was sunny and warm already, and I pushed the pace due to our 12pm checkout and departure time for the venue. I saw Kirk again, the timeworn, bearded, older man, sitting near the same spot, but with a different, well-used cardboard sign: “Homeless.” As I approached him the story of the good Samaritan came into my mind, where a priest and a Levite both cross to the other side of the road to avoid dealing with an man who had been robbed and beaten. I said, “Hi, Kirk,” engaged briefly, and walked the next few blocks to Whole Foods thinking about how a homeless person ends up in that state, and how they continue in it.
As I’ve gotten older I realize the answers aren’t always cut-and-dried; sometimes the polarizing answers of the hard-hearted “Stop Being a Loser and Get a Job” mindset or the bleeding-hearted “Let’s Perpetually Fund Irresponsibility and Laziness” don’t work. Sometimes people have real problems in their heart and thinking; circumstances which they maybe created, partially made, or didn’t create at all have led them to that spot, on the curb of the grocery store driveway in the heat, with a stained cardboard sign. Every human being knows how hard it can be to change our thinking, attitudes, and habits, especially if we are unaware change is possible.
I headed back to the hotel and ran up to the room just in time to clean up and get on the bus at 11:56am. It was seventeen miles to the venue in Nampa. Once again I found myself making hot chocolate on the bus. I don’t have a problem. I can quit anytime.
Lunch catering: Good Mexican food.
Sound check was uneventful except for the fun of playing “I Ain’t Broke But I’m Badly Bent” with Dan, Barry, and Jerry. Afterwards I restrung my main banjo with D’Addarios and talked to Alex from the crew. Instrument tech Michael Bethancourt bought a Yamaha version of a Leslie amp on Craigslist in one of the last towns, and Jerry was trying it out, so after I finished restringing I plugged my banjo into it and played a bit. It was fun but I don’t imagine using it with AKUS anytime soon.
Later I sat in the dressing room with Dan and Jerry for a bit while I restrung my ’38 Martin with Elixir Nanoweb mediums. There is always a very satisfying change in the responsiveness of the guitar and the clarity of the tone when I change the strings, especially if they’ve been on there for quite a few days.
Dinner catering: Italian.
I read a bit more of Bruce Lee’s book and found this quote meaningful in light of tonight’s show: “The great mistake is to anticipate the outcome of the engagement; you ought not to be thinking of whether it ends in victory or defeat. Let nature take its course, and your tools will strike at the right moment.” There is a freedom in letting go of the future and living in the present moment, where there is only the feel of fingers on strings, the sound of the band, the faces in the audience right in the moment.
The sun was burning hot as we went onstage to tune up, but I’ve seen worse. We all wore sunglasses. The banjo was ringing loud and clear out front. The sun went behind the trees for the last third of the show, and the temperature was perfect. During the encore I saw a woman singing along with Your Long Journey, wiping tears from her eyes as she sang.
We had a break while Willie went on, and went out for the encore. It amazes me to see how many people sing along with his songs.
After the show I went into the Union Station dressing room. Barry and Mickey Raphael (harmonica for Willie’s band) sat down and we had quite a good conversation about recording.
It’s time to wind down. I’m feeling an early bedtime coming on, with maybe some reading. I’ve been working through a Eugene Peterson book, as well as Chesterton’s Tremendous Trifles.
Sleep was deep in the dark hotel room (thanks for curtains that close out all the light). I woke up, packed my stuff, and walked again a mile each way to Whole Foods for a juice and a couple other items.
The morning was sunny and warm already, and I pushed the pace due to our 12pm checkout and departure time for the venue. I saw Kirk again, the timeworn, bearded, older man, sitting near the same spot, but with a different, well-used cardboard sign: “Homeless.” As I approached him the story of the good Samaritan came into my mind, where a priest and a Levite both cross to the other side of the road to avoid dealing with an man who had been robbed and beaten. I said, “Hi, Kirk,” engaged briefly, and walked the next few blocks to Whole Foods thinking about how a homeless person ends up in that state, and how they continue in it.
As I’ve gotten older I realize the answers aren’t always cut-and-dried; sometimes the polarizing answers of the hard-hearted “Stop Being a Loser and Get a Job” mindset or the bleeding-hearted “Let’s Perpetually Fund Irresponsibility and Laziness” don’t work. Sometimes people have real problems in their heart and thinking; circumstances which they maybe created, partially made, or didn’t create at all have led them to that spot, on the curb of the grocery store driveway in the heat, with a stained cardboard sign. Every human being knows how hard it can be to change our thinking, attitudes, and habits, especially if we are unaware change is possible.
I headed back to the hotel and ran up to the room just in time to clean up and get on the bus at 11:56am. It was seventeen miles to the venue in Nampa. Once again I found myself making hot chocolate on the bus. I don’t have a problem. I can quit anytime.
Lunch catering: Good Mexican food.
Sound check was uneventful except for the fun of playing “I Ain’t Broke But I’m Badly Bent” with Dan, Barry, and Jerry. Afterwards I restrung my main banjo with D’Addarios and talked to Alex from the crew. Instrument tech Michael Bethancourt bought a Yamaha version of a Leslie amp on Craigslist in one of the last towns, and Jerry was trying it out, so after I finished restringing I plugged my banjo into it and played a bit. It was fun but I don’t imagine using it with AKUS anytime soon.
Later I sat in the dressing room with Dan and Jerry for a bit while I restrung my ’38 Martin with Elixir Nanoweb mediums. There is always a very satisfying change in the responsiveness of the guitar and the clarity of the tone when I change the strings, especially if they’ve been on there for quite a few days.
Dinner catering: Italian.
I read a bit more of Bruce Lee’s book and found this quote meaningful in light of tonight’s show: “The great mistake is to anticipate the outcome of the engagement; you ought not to be thinking of whether it ends in victory or defeat. Let nature take its course, and your tools will strike at the right moment.” There is a freedom in letting go of the future and living in the present moment, where there is only the feel of fingers on strings, the sound of the band, the faces in the audience right in the moment.
The sun was burning hot as we went onstage to tune up, but I’ve seen worse. We all wore sunglasses. The banjo was ringing loud and clear out front. The sun went behind the trees for the last third of the show, and the temperature was perfect. During the encore I saw a woman singing along with Your Long Journey, wiping tears from her eyes as she sang.
We had a break while Willie went on, and went out for the encore. It amazes me to see how many people sing along with his songs.
After the show I went into the Union Station dressing room. Barry and Mickey Raphael (harmonica for Willie’s band) sat down and we had quite a good conversation about recording.
It’s time to wind down. I’m feeling an early bedtime coming on, with maybe some reading. I’ve been working through a Eugene Peterson book, as well as Chesterton’s Tremendous Trifles.