Toad River, British Columbia

August 14, 2013 - Toad River, British Columbia. A brief entry after a long delay. In the intervening months hosted four House Concerts in Anchorage, did the "Official" book release at Side Street Espresso for Six Truths, and enjoyed one of the most beautiful Alaska summers on record.

The summer also saw unrest channeled into overthrow in an Egypt that is, today, descending into chaos. I will write more when I know more, but for now my access is limited by wi-fi and time - but it looks grim. 

A short entry this, as I head to Dennis Lind Beery's studio in Vermont (Artist, musician, producer...) via my "usual" gig at River City in Windom to record the 5th CD (with an ever-changing title - still unsettled on that. Thought of "Fulton Street", "Geography of Love", now leaning to "Forgotten Streets"...). Should be there by Tuesday at the latest and then it's hunker down and record. Produced the scratch tracks with Kurt Riemann's help at Surreal Studios - a great place to record as well! He also featured me in "Goodbye", his and his wife M. J.'s latest creation - a beautiful, haunting piece.

That is all for now. More soon.  Must get back on the road...

Columbus, Ohio

May 23, 2013 - Columbus, Ohio. Today a restful day in Columbus after an odd night in Cambridge, Ohio.  I have been traveling much of the "National Road" on this section of the trip - US Highway 40 following the old Cumberland Road, called America's first National Road. It was the first major road built and maintained by the country - improved and paved in a way, "macadam" is what they called it, a bonded stone surface that we would think was a country road today. But all of that in the 1830s. 

Public works were considered an integral part of America then - part of the debate between Whigs (one of the precursors of the Republicans) and the old Democratic Party. The D's in that day were champions of state sovereignty while the Whig's championed the role of government in fostering economic growth by supporting the new nation's infrastructure development - from canals, to highways, to sewer systems.  All of these beliefs, so central to the battles of the 1830s and 1840s, eventually disintegrated in the new alignment built on the debates over slavery that eventually ripped both parties asunder. Southern Whigs, joined with Southern Democrats, Northern Whigs merged into various groups and birthed John C. Fremont's Republican Party. The names have stayed the same since the Civil War - Southern Democrats really the heirs of the state's rights philosophy that had been at the core of the old Democrats, the Republicans championing civil rights and a laissez-faire capitalism. 

At the turn of the century (1900's) a new realignment began that was to split the Republicans along "Progressive" and "Capital" lines. In the end the post Civil War version of that party limped into our age only in the New England and Northeastern states where its survivors have increasingly become Democrats. The version that was less interested in a Progressive approach to the world realigned (post FDR) with those remnants of the old Democrats and, in a reversal, that strain of thought was relabeled Republican  - a party as dominated now by old converted Southern Democrats as the old Democratic Party had been.

It is odd to follow this history, to watch this evolution of thought - when economic issues are ascendant, these define the alignments, when civil rights issues are invoked they define the movements and realignment.  But it seems that it is the social issues that redefine the labels more readily than the economic ones ever have.  Opposition to slavery was the issue that truly provided ascendancy to the Republicans - opening the door for a minority movement to gain power and assert power. Civil Rights, the Northern Democratic issue of the 1960's did the same Though it initially forced a realignment away from the Party in the South, it has brought a broader alliance to power - a power that only reapportionment has kept from being fully realized.

I think it fair to say that over time our long-term alignments in politics emerge from these civil rights alignments that pit an old order against a new paradigm. Time will tell what will emerge and how, but as I drive across this country I do see two America's. But the one emerging with a super majority? What will that be? That will be the one built by youth and minorities is in agreement on key civil liberties.

Two battles now - gay rights and immigration - will define this battle.  Recently I heard Gay rights activists arguing against the recent Democratic decision to drop references to Gay Rights from the Immigration bill in the Senate. Arguing the unfair nature of this, these otherwise enlightened progressives miss the broader point: all of society can change together if there is alignment between these two views. The Gay rights language added would have led to the defeat of immigration reform and the potential voting impact of that in ten - twelve years. If reform passes, then the Gay Rights movement, if it took the position of support of reform at its short-term expense, could be seen as an ally - something truly important in the demographic battle of voters to come over the next two decades.  Without an alliance between these two groups, both lose. Republicans know this. They will increasingly seek to find opportunities to pit both against each other, to define Democrats as cowardly to get D's to eat their own. Democrats should not be drawn into this struggle. There are better things to cut one's teeth on.

Patterson, New Jersey

May 21, 2013 - Patterson, New Jersey. I am dogged each year - Spring and Fall - by NPR Membership Drives.  It is a constant refrain as I drive across America.... I've meticulously timed these trips to coincide with guilt triggers. Every year has been the same. I once belonged to five different public radio stations - I still am with three (my two local stations and Sitka's) and occasionally send funds to others.... Driven by guilt, manifested by those begging us for cash so they can tell us perhaps the most honest version of the news. Begging for truth, it seems.

I spent one of those "After Hours" nights in New York with my friend Tara last night. Popping from the East Side, down to SoHo, up to the East Village, back to Midtown for a breakfast pizza and the end of a nine hour conversation about age and health, purpose and passion.  The best kind of conversations that are punctuated by the characters that slip in and out of conversations - whether people or places. New York is timeless and even on a Monday night never sleeps. 

Tara is in New York to care for her 92 year old Grandmother - an unheralded New York icon. For decades this New Yorker has collected signature of the tabloid famous... from Michael Jackson to Ewan MacGregor from Frank Sinatra to Snoop Dog (who recently gave her a shout out on Conan). Some people drop names - she has them, thousands of them. A patchwork that illustrates a city inexorably tied to the spotlight, and she always just outside of it - but known by them all.  Its a beautiful story of timelessness and mortality teasing its way out.

New York City is filled with these stories, but it is now in my rear view mirror as I cheat Mayor Bloomberg out of $12 tolls by leaving town the long way round....

Rutland, Vermont

May 19, 2013 - Rutland, Vermont. A stop in Saratoga Springs has given way to the road again.  I arrived at the lovely home of Amejo and Ed on Saturday morning - a great place of rest.  Met up here with friend and collaborator Tim Mason and his lovely wife Shannon Flattery, without whom Six Truths would likely not have been completed. She oversaw all my efforts and nudged, pushed and inspired me to get it completed. I left Saginaw, stopped at Kaleidoscope, a most eclectic book store in Ann Arbor, where, much to my pleasure and regret, discovered some classics of old fantasy that I could not be without... Great conversation with Jeffrey Pickell, the proprietor, and then on the road again.

Form there it was off to Cleveland and dinner and a great conversation with humorist and author, and friend, Jan C. Snow. I met Jan C. in California at a show in Santa Margarita. She gave me her book, You May Already Be A Winner, and we have stayed in touch ever since - though not always consistently. We talked about art and poetry and music and planned to reconnect along the road as I head to Chicago next week.

I thought I had the timing for hotels and travel worked out, but ended up in the Rochester area after 1 am. For those who drive, that's a problem.  Cheap rooms are gone and it really is hard to justify $150 for 6 hours of sleep... so I found a rest area and pulled out the blankets and pillows. What I now know is that is not as easy as it used to be.... Ah, the beauty of age and the wisdom it brings us.

Now heading to look at a studio for the Fulton Street project and then NYC tomorrow followed by....? I'm not really sure until Chicago on Friday.

Two reflections on this leg of the trip.... First, the huge Powerball fever that swept America this past week, as people vied against the odds to win the $600 million prize, even caught me. My Sister called and insisted I buy a quick pik 5 for $10. I did on condition she reimburse me if I lost.  I did (lose that is, though someone in Maryland is $590 million less taxes richer today). Though, had I won, she'd have made $10 million (that was my easily given commitment). But that is just it: the lottery is nothing but a way, really, to fund government on the backs of those who are desperate to succeed. 

I think about the myth of society we have created and that I have written about here before, We are told that we too can become Bill Gates, or Michael Jordon, or... whomever we fancy in the world of the rich and famous. But the odds are always against us. That is not to say that we shouldn't try - luck hits, and when the odds are more in your favor they hit more often.  The stuff of "trailer park dreams" I once wrote, but it is the same dream for so many. We hit the prize. "You can't win if you don't play" and so many other things we see. In contrast is the other lie, that if we just work hard enough we too can get there. So which is it really? Work to chase elusive wealth until we die, or complacently give our collective money back to a fantasy of instant millions? It is hard for me to know which is the better path (though I suspect believing in raw chance serves better odds).

The only way to unstack this deck that is stacked against so many is to fight for it. What I mean by that is to work to level the playing field. If we are going to be asked to clean up the mess others have made, to pay for their errors, we should insist they should as well.  Why is it that we elect those who would take away working wages and benefits as though somehow they were better stewards of our future than we are? I don't know that answer, but given how much is spent to convince us to worship wealth, I suspect that there are powerful forces working within us against that vision. I count on it, in fact.

The second thing? I think a life that is lived well generates good will. Maybe that is my lottery belief. I think I take an extra step for those I know are doing the same. I think most of us do.  I think that is a life, a way of being worth fighting for.  I look for those who work to improve our lives, those who do so with little regard for reward. Those are the folks who may already be a winner...

One final note, a shout out to my friend Terry Holder who made it as a finalist at Wildfloweryesterday!

Saginaw, Michigan

May 17, 2013 - Saginaw, Michigan. Slowing down a bit. Great visits with friends Matt and Louisa Frank. He wore me out from badminton to hiking to sampling local libations! Met a great group of writers and others. Of note, Matt Bell and Josh MacIvor-Andersen, Tim, Tim, Kathryn, Regina, Helen, Dan, and more! That and a rubber stamp for the press from Fred's Rubber Stamp, and I had a two day slam dance of an experience....  I'll be back there, I am sure. 

The drive from Marquette was odd.... I left the shores of Superior and headed south into the air raid sirens of Munising, Michigan. Watched a Father and a Son argue and was moved by the moment.... it was a "Why not?" "Because I said 'no'" conversation - acted out countless places for countless centuries.  A young man yearning to break out, to run, to leave behind the sleepy town he grew up in and the gas station fate promised for the first scent of adventure that this second Spring day brought on.... And so we travel in these cycles. Born, live, die. We leave behind fading memories and impressions and yet things still change and we still drive it. We are nothing more than the pieces of those before - whether in our DNA or in our received wisdom. It is the knowledge that has come down to us that is as much of our evolution as anything else. We seek relevance in moments of rebellion, experience the full meaning of life in a moment of ecstasy, or sadness, or loss, or love....  It is what makes us human, this yearning for... meaning.

I played tag with a Harley and noted, as I neared the LakeMichigan shore, vast dark clouds like smoke over the road, only to realize they were bugs - midges? mosquitoes? gnats? In waves they crashed down on us, darkening my windshield worse than a hard rain. By the thousands they flew at the screen, careened around semis and painted the hair of the bikers. They moved like living spirals whipping through the air like a single, living being in a Sci-Fi flick- inherited connection, learned behavior?

I settled into Saginaw earlier than I might have, but I felt a need to stop, to rest, to think. As I checked into my simple room I saw three guys out front. Smoking cigarettes, spitting and talking.  "The autopsy didn't show anything..." one said. And from there talks of investigations and staying one step ahead of the law. "They thought I did it, but they couldn't prove it..." circling back to the autopsy time and again.... I was in a dream, a bad TV show, but no one said anything conclusive, just danced around the butts that eventually littered the ground... neither claiming responsibility or denying an act. Each of the guys probing without probing too far... A dance with a macabre beat until they flipped their last butt to the pavement, cigarettes exhausted, and slept.

This morning it all seems surreal as I fill my tank, look to the road and imagine what night will bring.

St. Cloud, Minnesota

May 13, 2013 - St. Cloud, Minnesota. My I Phone told me that it was 70 degrees and sunny today. I have stood out in the rain looking for that sun, while shivering in my jacket.... When did we decide that an I Phone was a better source of weather information than... actually standing outside? A bit frustrated, I dove into a Caribou Coffee to catch up on mail and the blog while waiting for a car repair (always it seems there is a car repair). I ended up in one of those spontaneous conversations with a man and his daughter and another customer over America and where we are heading. We all begin with clichés and deeply held positions, though we differed in our fundamental beliefs. In the end we reached a consensus - not on our specific issues, but in how to talk about them. The quest really for me in these trips seems to be trying to discern a way that we can talk about our differences that doesn't lead to anger and antagonism. Dialogue in a way that builds synthesis not dissolves into antagonism. We did it here. Shaking hands in parting. I felt the seed of something - some solution ticking my brain, just out of reach. perhaps I will let this percolate for a bit. Looking for others thoughts on this - e mail me at cwrecord@aaska.net, or post some thoughts on Facebook.... Enough for now, the car repair is done!

St. Peter, MN

May 12, 2013 - St. Peter, MN. Played at River City Eatery last night. As always, a great crowd - including old friends Shelly and Bri (first Cousin, once removed) who shared her new book with me. Outside of Side Street Espresso in Alaska, I don't often play at coffee shops/restaurants, but these folks are always the exception. Mari and Andy run a great place and they are two very warm people in a state that has made "being inviting" its motto. We finished, after drifting into long conversations and readings from the new book (Six Truths), at about 2 am. My room was courtesy of Bruce Boldt and Prairie Wind Folk Music and Bluegrass Association - a wonderful gift, and an organization well worth donating to - I do. Both Bruce and Ivan Harris, fellow Kerrville musicians, took the guitar in my breaks and played some of their own music - you just have to love a life of friends wherever you go. Windom feels like another of my hometowns every time I come there.... Breakfast this morning and now on the road again.

It is odd weather here. Everywhere I go they are talking about climate change. Its mid-May, but it feels like November. The wind is brisk, blowing out of the Northwest, people are bundled up. It fell into the thirties last night - it was actually warmer in Alaska. I have gotten into the habit of blaming myself for this. Whenever I leave the state I seem to bring bad weather with me, leaving Alaska to bathe in warmth and sunshine. Arghhh!

Here in St. Peter I am surrounded by a red brick world - the Minnesota of the 1880s. If you strain just right, and imagine that the cars aren't here and that the roads are dusty dirt rather than the asphalt we know so well, you can almost imagine the horses and carriages, see back into that past. A lot of Minnesota is like that and, more often then not, people talk here in terms of who they graduated with thirty or forty years ago and, when they talk about not being in their home town, they are talking about a journey of an hour or two at most.  Minnesota grows its future in the seeds of its past.

The more I travel the back roads, the "blue highways" the more I realize how much it is still like this. Yes, its true, that a many if these small towns teeter on their last legs. Masonic lodges left empty. Storefronts shut down, populations aging. But there is something else, a vibrancy a possibility, a hint of a future on the horizon - rich in music, art and imagination. I watch it come forth like a flower in Spring. For though it is cold now, Spring will surely come.    

Madison

May 11, 2013 - Madison. An entry before I head out to Windom, MN, where I play later tonight at the River City Eatery.  Looking forward to seeing Mari, Bruce, Ivan and the others I've come to know there. Windom has become a bit of an oasis along the highway.

Today, here in Madison, the sun is out, but the wind is blowing and its cold - like a North Slope (Alaska) Summer. Brisk enough to make you wonder why you left your winter hat at home, only to remember it is, afterall, May.... 

I chose Madison for a break as a reminder of sorts. I remember first coming here to see the town after College 1982. I gave my friend Wendy Barron a ride here from Bard. She was moving to Madison and, as we drove into the town, I came up State Street and was taken aback by the life of the place. I came back a couple of times after that. I still remember finding a copy of "The Water of the Wonderous Isles", a William Morris book published here in the 1890's.... My thrill and fear of paying over $100 for a book, back before I'd really begun to collect in earnest. In many ways it sparked those journeys of mine from town to town seeking out old bookstores between gigs. 

This time Madison seemed different. It had changed, I thought, before I realized that it was less Madison that had changed (though indeed it has). It was me. The excitement of the college scene was part of what drew me in the first time. The thrill of discovery of a book I had heard of but never found was the fascination of the next visit. But a College scene is a college scene. And I now saw that there were far more bars than bookstores and, walking through the town, felt a sense of distance, perhaps alienation.

There is an earlier memory, though of Wisconsin, not Madison.  I was driving cross country in winter - back to Alaska from the East Coast. It might have been 1980. I stopped at a rest area and a guy there saw my plates. What do you do? he asked. I'm a writer I said, for that was how I saw myself at that moment. I wasn't a writer, really. I had written some, but it didn't seem real. I was imagining my life in that moment before I responded and I saw it flash before me in a way that I had not before. The memory stays with me - not because I created my own little fiction that day, though I think that is part of it, but because it marked a point when I decided who I was, knowing even then full well that this would be no easy task.  Today I have friends who are writers - Keith Liles, Matt Frank, Charles Wohlforth, Jesse Browner, Tim Mason, my Brother Nick among others, but whether or not it is a song, or a sonnet, an essay or a blog, it is a body of work, it is writing. And so, here in Wisconsin again, I can say when asked, "I am a writer, a musician..." We define our lives. We define our selves.