Kinda Day, revisited :)

 Well okay then.

It's nearly Christmas, and I am a happy old dad with both of our children in my city of birth for a few days. Miranda, of course, lives in Brentwood and is blowing away her career in social work at her highly responsible position at the Sexual Assault Center in Nashville. Anytime we can get together and I can get a hug and look her in her beautiful eyes is a good time, but it's especially so when I can look over and up at her "little" brother, Colin. He's sleeping this morning in our guest room beneath my artist's studio here on the 2nd floor. It's only been a few days, but we are enjoying every moment we have with him. 

I'll get up before dawn's crack on Friday to get him out to the airport and on the way back to his life and home in Missoula, Montana, where he's 

1. going to school at the U of Montana, 
2. majoring in sound design and engineering,
3. working one part-time job at a food cart and 
4. starting another when he returns home, as production engineer for the college radio station, KBGA 89.9,
5. Producing and deejaying his own weekly show at Missoula Community Radio 101.5,
6. working with Daisy Chain Presents, a small group in a founder's position to bring a constant stream of live bands into Missoula venues,
7. playing music with other extraordinarily talented friends in 3 1/2 bands,
8. and producing music independently, writing and playing on bass and electric guitars

Here in Nashville, he's thoughtfully balancing his time with us with a slew of friends, some of whom are passing through our fair town enroute to other places these holiday weeks, side-tracking through here especially just to see him. Missoula is a long way away. He's visiting old and new Nashville haunts with these old friends and with new ones he's meeting. 

Anyway, I just wanted to pop in to share something kinda special. It's one of my songs we jammed on together in our living room a couple days ago. Present were Matt Mellon (yes, of Magic Metal Designs fame), my dear son-in-law Tim Buell (yes, of "You're Good, Get Better" podcast fame), the famous Colin Merrick, and moi, obscure songwriter, sometime blogger, and rogue painterly artist. 

Matt is an artful songwriter himself, and I am sad we didn't record some of his songs we did together. In fact, the only song we recorded, thanks to Tim's suggestion we do so and to Colin's iPhone on the coffee table, was one of mine. If you've listened to my "Songs for Alaska" album, long available on streaming platforms, you've heard it. I really liked this version, thanks in part to Matt's work on my acoustic/electric bass, Colin's on my SG Standard electric guitar, and to Tim's masterful drumming on his very cool Toca Percussion Kickboxx Suitcase Drum Set (thanks, Sweetwater!).

It's a one-take kinda thing, but boy-o-boy was it fun. It's a happy song and I'm proud of it, and of my dear dear friends and family. Matt's soliloquy at the beginning and our chatter added some real color to it. I totally agree with Matt's assessment at the very end. Thanks to my compadres for a fun-ass day at Chez Merrique. Listen to...

a weird pano

Kinda Day, by li'l ol' me

Everyone have a wonderful end of 2024 and stay well, safe, and sane in the upcoming dumpster fire year. Keep your head down, your heart up, and your creativity cookin'. 

Chat GPT Shortshort: "The Birthday Wish"

Note: If he really wants to shake up the world and establish his place in history as the political spoiler he has always claimed to be, something like this could be the beginning of the turn toward it, remolding his own legacy as the most caring, positive, and progressive leader in the history of the world. May 25 is my birthday.

The Birthday Wish

By ChatGPT 4.0, creative prompt by Scott Merrick

 

 

The Nomination

It was May 25, 2025, and the country had been on edge for months. The death of Justice Clarence Thomas had left a deep void on the Supreme Court, and in the weeks that followed, the media had speculated endlessly about who would fill the seat. The nation had seen an unprecedented political climate over the past few years, and every major decision seemed to feel like a spark in a powder keg.

 

That morning, President Donald Trump sat in front of a camera in the Oval Office, the familiar blue tie hanging loosely around his neck. His usual confidence was tempered by the gravity of the announcement he was about to make. The livestream had just started, and thousands of people across the country—Republicans, Democrats, and independents alike—were waiting for the news.

 

“Good afternoon, my fellow Americans,” Trump began, his voice steady but tinged with something else, something like resolve. “As you know, earlier this month we lost a great justice, Clarence Thomas. A man who served this nation with honor, with unwavering principle. And now, it is my solemn duty to nominate someone who will continue his legacy, someone who will uphold the Constitution, the rule of law, and the rights of every American.”

 

There was a moment of silence. His audience, half of which was no doubt anticipating the name of a staunch conservative, leaned in closer to their screens. But what Trump said next left them stunned.

 

“That’s why today, I am proud to announce that I am nominating… Kamala Harris, former Vice President of the United States, to the Supreme Court.”

 

A sharp intake of breath rippled through the livestream chat. Twitter erupted in confusion, disbelief, and outrage. The idea of Trump, a Republican president, nominating a Democrat—Kamala Harris, no less—was as shocking as it was unprecedented.

 

Trump gave a brief smile, his hands folded in front of him. "You all remember her, right? She's tough, smart, and knows the law. I think you’ll all be surprised at how well she’ll fit in. It’s time for a change—an unexpected change."

 

### **The Reaction**

 

Within minutes, pundits on both sides of the aisle were reacting.

 

“Well, that’s one way to unite a fractured nation,” a Republican commentator quipped, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “A former vice president, a known progressive, nominated by a president who’s spent the last decade denouncing everything she stands for? Pure genius, or pure madness. You decide.”

 

On the left, liberals were equally flummoxed. "Is this a joke?" one headline read. "Kamala Harris: The Last Person We Expected to See in This Moment." Social media was on fire with debates over whether it was an act of reconciliation or political theater designed to confuse.

 

Across the country, a ripple effect spread through Washington D.C. Senators, both Democrat and Republican, were left scrambling. Some called the nomination "a political maneuver" while others wondered if Trump was setting the stage for something bigger—an attempt to transcend partisan divides, to shift the political calculus of the coming elections.

 

Kamala Harris herself was caught off guard. She had been in her office in California when she received a call from the White House. It had taken a moment for her to process the words.

 

“Mr. President,” she said, her voice measured but filled with disbelief. “You’re serious?”

 

“Very,” Trump replied. “You’ve got my full support. I know it sounds crazy, but we need someone who understands both sides. You’re the perfect person for the job.”

 

After a long silence, Harris replied. “I never thought I'd be sitting across from you again in this kind of way... but I’ll consider it.”

 

The Confirmation Battle

 Within days, the hearings began. It was a spectacle unlike any other. Harris, seated at the witness table, was cool and composed as senators from both parties launched into their questioning. They had come prepared to attack, to dissect her record, her policies, her entire career. But there was something different this time.

 

Trump’s unprecedented nomination had left the typical partisan attacks on the backburner. Both sides found themselves, strangely, united in their confusion. There was no clear precedent for how to react. A Democrat in a conservative-majority court? Or was this an opportunity to reach across the aisle?

 

Senator Lindsey Graham, a long-time ally of Trump, stared across the room at Harris during the hearings and found himself unable to fully oppose her. “I disagree with nearly everything she’s stood for,” he said in his opening statement. “But I’ve always respected her intelligence. This is a wild card, but it’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

 

Senator Elizabeth Warren, sitting on the other side of the aisle, was less circumspect. “This is a grave mistake. Kamala Harris is too much of a partisan for this position,” she declared, pounding her fist on the table. “We need someone who represents the people, not a politician with a divided agenda.”

 

But as the questioning continued, it became apparent that the confirmation hearings weren’t simply about Harris’s political ideology. They were about trust. Could America trust a decision as volatile as this one? Could Kamala Harris, with her deep ties to the Democratic Party, truly represent the full spectrum of the nation’s values?

 

The Unexpected Victory

 In the weeks that followed, the country braced for the vote. Public opinion was divided, with both sides feeling the pressure to assert their influence over the proceedings. But when the final vote came—miraculously—it was a narrow victory. Kamala Harris was confirmed as the next Justice of the Supreme Court.

 

The nation reacted in shock and awe. The news spread like wildfire, and the political analysts quickly set to work trying to decode the true meaning of the nomination. Was this a masterstroke by Trump? Or was it a gamble that had somehow paid off?

 

In her first public statement after the confirmation, Justice Harris stood before the cameras, a figure of strength and composure.

 

“This country is divided, there’s no denying that. But I’m here to remind us all that the Constitution is our common ground. We all agree on that. And I will work every day to serve all of America, regardless of party or persuasion. My goal is simple: justice for all.”

 

As she spoke, the reality began to sink in. America had just entered a new era, one in which nothing could be taken for granted. Even the most improbable, the most impossible, things could—and would—happen.

 

And with Justice Kamala Harris now sitting on the Supreme Court, the future of the nation was more uncertain—and more exciting—than it had ever been.

Happy November (one hopes)

 Just popping in to share some of my daughter's music. She belongs to an independent, non-secular choir called Sonos. You can learn more at their website, but you can also learn more by listening to their newly released live album, created from performances in Nashville and beyond. It's stellar...

Woo woo! Two posts in one calendar month!

 What's the world coming to? Well, now, that's a question, now isn't it. 

I can only speak for my own.

It's good. Stressed about the election on Tuesday of next week. But making the prediction that turnout will be high and remaining confident it will be so in favor of reason, kindness, and joy. 

Indeed, part of today's motivation to post is that independent media may well be under attack after Tuesday, if things go particularly bad. We don't need a fascist narcissist at the head of the government. But if I believed in polls I would perhaps be packing right now. The scary part (in my essentially non-political mind) is that, due to the ancient and pointless Electoral College system Vice President Harris may win the popular vote by a landslide and lose the presidency according to that system. Sigh.

On more ground-level news, I spent a couple nights up at my favorite campsite at Lock A Campground last week. The reservation was for Monday and Tuesday nights, and I got up there around 2-pm Monday and took my time setting up my new tent at campsite #45, my little Holy Land. It was a breeze, and the Core 6 person Instant Setup. tent is sooooo happymaking. Here's a pic:

My home away from home at Cheatham Dam's Lock A Campground. 

The first thing I put inside the tent was my camping air mattress, seen above acting in its new role as doormat. I blew it up not with a pump, but with my breath, counting around 150 lungsful before its 5 air chambers were in bedtime shape. Checking on it at dusk, I found two chambers flat as a proverbial pancake. I zipped up tight, grabbed my keys, and drove the 10 or so miles into Ashland City and past to the Walmart store, picking up one more bundle of firewood and a home floor air mattress. This baby has a built in electric pump for inflation and deflation. OMG, this is a life-changer, or at least a camping life-changer. The thing, once inflated, is a smooth 6-8 inch layer of air between me and the earth and stays inflated. And it cost less than the frickin' camping mattress. Win win win.

I had a little ceramic heater in my tent and ran it all night, but at 42 degrees outside all it could do is heat a small area directly in font of it. It did not help that the tent was significantly larger than my 4 person one. I awoke at around 4 in the morning, 'way prior to sunrise, and spent a couple hours reading in my little 40 degree rated sleeping bag. Light awakened me and I arose, spending the morning simply cooking, boiling water for coffee, eating breakfast, and cleaning up. I fished some, but it's awkward fishing off that Army Core of Engineers large granite and sandstone cluttered shore. 

Around 1 pm I grabbed my Montana lodgepole pine hiking staff and headed off to hike for 2 hours or so, taking the camp trail east from the campground and hooking into the gorgeous Cumberland River Bicentennial trail that follows the river bank all the way to Chapmansboro and Sycamore Creek. So beautiful. Here's a pano I took along the way:

Cumberland River Bicentennial Trail, east to the left and back to the campground west on the right. Doubleclick to scroll through the pano. This stump marks my turnaround point. I'll be back to do the whole thing one day.

A Great little walk (not sure I could classify it as a "hike," but it felt great to have that quiet time in nature). 

Here is my Google Album from the early-in-the-week weekend.

Fall Fall Fall

 To everything, Fall, Fall, Fall, there is a season, Fall, Fall, Fall...

And so here we are, October 6, a full 15 days into Fall. There's a lot going on, there's nothing going on, and everything in between. I'm up before dawn, after a lovely night's sleep beside my honey, with our dog at my feet and Google still laboring away to "play the sound of the ocean." I got up to use the bathroom and when I returned to bed my place was taken by pooch Lemon, who had relocated to locate her whole 85 pound furry self sideways across my pillow. No room for the old man, eh?

From Forbes Magazine: "Comet A3 will now dip from dawn into the sun’s glare, getting closer to our sun until it passes through to the other side — sunset. It will re-emerge in twilight around Oct. 12 for those in the northern hemisphere and should be easily visible — and possibly super-bright — for around two weeks."

That's one thing going on, for sure. 

I hope to get out for a night or two camping in order to view this thing. It's rare, I gather, and I also intuit, since I've never really viewed a comet in the sky and I'm approaching my 75th trip around the sun. 

I've got a couple musical adventures this week. My brother-from-two-other-mothers, Rocky, has been invited by his friend Don Henry, songwriter extraordinaire, to attend his party at Vinyl Tap Records, to which one must wear some attempt at Halloween appearance, and he has in turn invited me to come along. I saw Henry at an event just a couple weeks ago, one which was not officially connected to Americana Fest here in Nashville but coincided with it. The event took place at the Roof Top lounge downtown, and its purpose was to honor Rocky for his songwriting accomplishments, including creating the music for the Grammy nominated "The Mighty Sky" science-themed record. On the little stage in the corner Beth Nielsen Chapman, Don, and Matraca Berg, took turns singing songs, some from Mighty Sky but also others of their choice. It was an endearing performance, each singer singing maybe 4 or 5 songs, and Matraca Berg's husband, Nitty Gritty Dirt Band's Jeff Hanna, got up from his hors d'oeuvres to sing "Mr. Bojangles,"  the Jerry Jeff Walker folk classic his band helped make a standard.

Honor event for my dear pal Rocky Alvey (orange cap)

The Wonder Women of Country at WMOT Americana Fest Day Stage, Eastside Bowl

Nielsen Chapman presented Rocky with a bangin' glass trophy to mark the occasion, and the proud brother Scott exited to the street to head out on his second night of Americana Fest 2024.

Ah, Americana Fest. I had hoarded my Festival Pass ticket for months, purchasing it like back in March, very soon after they became available. I was most excited about two performers, Madi Diaz and Chris Smither, the first of whom I did not see for reasons I will reveal, and the second of whom I saw perform two substantial sets and two venues over the September 17-21 time spread. I saw but a fraction of the performances at only a handful of the venues where they were taking place, but friends, this was the best ~100 dollars I spent last year. 

See the full schedule here.

When I look back at that, it's pretty amazing that I only saw a few shows, but then I'm old and I was just the other side of a pretty nasty bout with Covid. 

In order, though, I saw:

• City Winery main room: A Tribute to Mary Gauthier, Mary Gauthier, Jaimee Harris, Rodney Crowell, Aaron Lee Tasjan, Creekbed Carter Hogan, Emmylou Harris, Gretchen Peters w/ Barry Walsh, and more...

  Silver and Festival Passes Only

• City Winery main room: "25 Years of "Drag Queens and Limousines", Jaimee Harris, Mary Gauthier

  Silver and Festival Passes Only

• Vinyl Tap: Oh Boy! Records "Independents' Day" afternoon hangout 

• At home, the fantastic 2024 Americana Music Awards live from The Ryman Auditorium. I was just a bit beat from earlier activities, so I jacked up the stereo Google Hubs in the living room, poured me a bourbon, snuggled with my fluffy Grand Pyrenees mix, Lemon, and listened to the show from top to bottom without any Mother Church columns in my viewing path (I had no viewing path, though I later learned it was livestreamed). I enjoyed simply immersing myself in the audio in my living room, but I highly recommend you view the entire night's events at WMOT.org -- it includes performances "from award-winning legends, buzzworthy new artists and longtime fan favorites, including Blind Boys of Alabama, Brandy Clark with SistaStrings, Charles Wesley Godwin, Dave Alvin, Dwight Yoakam, Fantastic Negrito, Hurray for the Riff Raff, Jobi Riccio, Kaitlin Butts, Larkin Poe, The Milk Carton Kids, Noah Kahan, Sarah Jarosz, Shelby Lynne, Sierra Ferrell, Turnpike Troubadours, The War And Treaty, Waxahatchee with MJ Lenderman, and Wyatt Flores."

• Eastside Bowl: WMOT Day Stage 12 to 5 pm, featuring Chris Smither, Leyla McCalla, Melissa Carper, Sam Morrow, Uncle Lucius

• City Winery Lounge: Betty Soo, then Chris Smither.

• Basement East: I really wanted to see Madi Diaz so after Chris Smither finished, above, I took a Lyft over and managed to get inside the venue, only to judge it a veritable Covid cesspool. I swear it was body to body packed with sweating 20-30 year-olds and also older folks like myself, and the stage fog hung unmoving in the stage lights and in the room--a clear clue the air circulation was dysfunctional. Spotlights played on the performer onstage (not sure who it was, a young dark haired male rocker) and after finding myself just inside the door and, daunted by the huge clump of sweat-dripping humans between me and the bar, I reluctantly turned tail and took the next Lyft home. 

• Alisa Amador, Amy Helm, Dave Alvin & Jimmie Dale Gilmore with The Guilty Ones, The Cactus Blossoms, and Wonder Women of Country again at the Basement East WMOT Day Stage. 

There were shows Saturday, but I, ya'll, was done. I really only wanted to attend the Americana Music Association meeting that morning, but I had an epiphany based on an old (not original) axiom from my teaching days: "The best way to make your next meeting productive is to cancel it." I stayed home, caught up on some rest, and embraced the next stage of my future. 

You can see nearly all my photos, with some short video snippets, at my Google Album, "Scott's Americana Fest 2024" anytime you want to. 

Heck, let's embed that Honors Award show at the Ryman, to save you a click or two (via YouTube):

Freakin' September

 Okay, it's well into September and I haven't posted since July. Why not, you ask, why not?

I have no excuse. I'm retired, I lead a pretty active life for that station in life, and I simply lost interest for a while. There you go.

So what's up?

Well, let's start with the now:  I just entered lyrics from two songs in the American Songwriters Association bi-monthly lyric contest. Songs are "Early" and "Full Tilt Tomorrow. Crossing my fingers, but I figure for 15 bucks a song it will do no harm to get them in front of a panel of successful songwriters. You can hear "Early" at my Samply.app account and Full Tilt Tomorrow at Spotify. It's not the recordings, only the lyrics. Wish me luck. 

In the same vein, I just bought tickets to Amanda Shires Unplugged and Untamed at Exit Inn on October 10. Buzzed, I am. If you are in town at the time, tickets are not too dear and it will be an amazing show. Join me if you can.

On another tack, I have Covid. Weird, I got my antivirus update on Friday, and came down Tuesday (the vaccination takes around 2 weeks for immunity to build) with what I thought was a cold, a bad one, into the chest and literally dripping from the sinuses. I took a Covid test when it had been around for a day, reluctantly since my honey was leaving this very day for a much-deserved trip with a good friend and I didn't want to mess that up. It was negative, but I took another the following day and it was positive. Day 5 here and with the help of Paxlovid, Mucinex and beaucoup fluids and rest, I am feeling a bit better and Lee Ann's flying in a few minutes for Pensacola. I'm okay alone, though the house feels quiet and empty and will for the next 6 days and 5 nights. Not much fever and not any for 4 days now. I'll be in shape, if still a little inhibited and likely with a modified  for Americana Fest 2024, which starts Tuesday and for which I have an all shows pass. You'll find me at Eastside Bowl for much of the time, though my schedule is still in process of being decided. I know I'll be at Eastside Bowl Tuesday night for Neko Case and Madi Diaz with many other talents. What I love about the event is from my experience in 2019, where I took in shows from quite a few performers I already knew about, but also many GREAT ones I had not heard. It's a learning experience.

I'm painting a bunch, and that's my primary play today. Still taking open studio classes once a week with master Charles Brindley, though not making it as often as I should. Still painting nearly every day. Lee Ann bought me a really nice little beginner's watercolor set last week and I'll do some of that over the next week. See art stuff at https://scottmerrick.me.

Also next week, I'm attending my old pal Helen Compton's free webinar on AI and creativity. Join me there, too, if you can. I promise it will be a stellar experience and that even if you are already a practitioner you'll learn something. I'll refund your attendance fee if you don't. 😏Here:

Helen CromptonHelen Crompton • 1st • 1stExecutive Director of the Research Institute for Digital Innovation in Learning (RIDIL). Professor of instructional Technology at Old Dominion UniversityExecutive Director of the Research Institute for Digital Innovation in Learning (RIDIL). Professor of instructional Technology at Old Dominion University3d • 3 days ago

I am giving a free webinar with great AI tools. Come and learn how you can create a full slide deck in under 60 seconds, create music and songs, and so much more. Sign up now: https://lnkd.in/enPRkmKW, and if you cannot make it live, you will get the recording to watch.

That's some of what I know. Maybe I'll know more next week, and I'll share it if I do!

Say well, stay healthy, and wear a mask in crowds. I will. And...

Time until Election Day. It will, if nothing else, be an historical day. It's the most important vote you will ever cast. Don't throw it away, unless it's a vote for fascism. 

Time until Election Day 2024

It will, if nothing else, be an historical day. Don't throw away your vote, unless it's a vote for fascism. 

Still Waiting. revisited

 Hello July. This year, my 74th trip around the sun, has already been a thing. I'm ignoring the absurdist play that politics has made ours, and instead focusing on crawling out of the mourning pit which this past Thursday night's debate dropped me unceremoniously into, and sharing something that made my day, just yesterday.

Yesterday began as a home-based workday, with loads of laundry piled in two rooms, remnants of our little aside journey into heaven the previous week. I may post on that soon, but maybe not. Suffice it to say that our 9 days at Jumby Island Resort, Long Island, Antiqua, Antigua and Barbuda.

Jumby Bay Island teaser

My main reason for posting today, however, is due to my afternoon yesterday, which began with yard and housework then joyfully deteriorated into grabbing a mid-day Mexican snack at Don Julio's in Joelton  with my friend Rocky, and then retreating to Rocky's own little heaven, his farm office, to sit in the air conditioned tiny home watching all manner of birds feed from the flower garden and the feeders out his big Northwestern picture window. He had picked up a couple of nice cigars and we each had one while sipping whiskey and working our way slowly through those together, chatting and sharing music. 

He introduced me to Erika Lewis and some wonderful other singer/songwriters who he had discovered on Spotify, and we talked about how much we both like the app's suggestions features. For the one or two people who may not know, I can, for example, play an album (Rocky and I are both unicorns who prefer listening to a record beginning to end) and then let it continue to play other songs Spotify's algorithms determine we will like based upon that. It's a feature that can be turned off but we both agree it is one of the app's best features, despite the well-known usury of artist's and its nation-mimicking economic unfairness to the less-famous creatives. Both of which we are.

Rocky snuck a song of mine I did not expect to hear. I hadn't listened to it, I swear to you, in years. It was kind of good. He proceeded to tell me that it had played after he had listened to another artist, and he had checked in to see who it was. "I said, 'Is this the Scott Merrick I know?'" And then he told me the album was in his morning rotation of music to start the day with his morning coffee, looking out upon the same garden view we were sharing. "I listen to it once every week or two." He also said the he thought "This is your masterpiece," and "I would love to get this in a studio with some really good players after running it by a producer who knows what he's doing. Orchestration, strings, an upright bass on "Strumsticking..." (on which I allude to bass with a tuned down acoustic six-string, ha).

So I listened. It's the first time I have ever listened to it with another human person. I like it. Some of the songs are instrumental versions of songs I sent out in 2004 with my Last Frontier Band live compilation, some are just instrumentals, titles suggested by musical themes within them. Rocky's favorite is one of the latter, "Flying Dutchman," a ghost ship song created in Alaska after reading about it somewhere, I don't recall. It's 12-string so it must have been recorded before my honey and I left Nashville to work and live in Florida in the mid-80's. But maybe read the Flying Dutchman's Wikipedia entry whilst listening to the song.

I share it all here. Hear...

Music I First Got High To That Still Makes Me Smile Inside

 I'm not a very good blogger these days, but just popping in to embed this little wormhole for you. This list was inspired by my morning's vinyl play of "It's a Beautiful Day," the album I may have played most when getting high at age 19. I was working in the undergraduate library of the University of Tennessee Knoxville as a page, one of those "just got in the employment door by sheer determination and persistence" employees whose job was to shelve books all day, pushing around a little cart organized by Dewey Decimal number one, after another, after another. I was writing poetry pretty seriously, though I had no idea what I was doing but maybe singing in prose, and living on White Avenue in a house with a balcony where we'd smoke weed and often tripped on game days, watching the swirling orange-clad fans parking on our street for the mile away walk to Neyland Stadium. I suppose this is the place where I admit all that, now that Mary Jane is legal in 24 states for recreational use and a huge economy is built around hemp-based THC and CBD, which are legal (often with restrictions) in all but 2 states. Iowa and Idaho.

Anyway, to the music. I may throw away another hour sometime adding to it, but here are 18 hours and 13 minutes of my 1969-70 playlist, first enjoyed mostly on cassette or vinyl turned up LOUD. Here, I recommend you listen on the Spotify app and hit "Smart Shuffle" for the best experience. Here...is...

Chris Smither at Finally Friday!

I had a great experience yesterday at WMOT Roots Radio's weekly Finally Friday. Here's a snippet of video from the legendary Chris Smither that demonstrates why. The Youtube description describes a lovely happy accident of weather, setting, and talent :)

The entire set should be available for viewing/listening in a day or two at WMOT's "On Demand" website. Kudos also to FF stagemates Mustangs of the West and Pi Jacobs!Pi Jacobs

Chris performed Finally Friday solo acoustic, and his new record, All About the Bones, which released the same day, is a remarkable pleasure to listen to. Nuance of phrase, tidy and seemingly effortless fingerpicking, and fatherly voice makes me smile and cry at the same time. Give it a listen. If you want the record or CD, hit up his website. I'm running out to Great Escape as soon as they have it in stock. It's already on Spotify if'n that's the way you roll. 

Read about the recording and personnel and such at Grateful Web.

Total Eclipse of the Middle Son

 Or of the sun, I should say...

The sun shows up the morning of April 8

This morning, casting about for a topic to wax upon, I recall the amazing camping trip I took up to my best buddy Rocky's childhood stomping grounds to view the Monday, April 8th total eclipse in totality. Nashville looked to be cloudy and was not in the predicted path, so up I went. Rocky had arranged for the younger brother of his best high school friend to allow me to camp on his substantial property just outside of Harrisburg, Illinois, itself the home of the very fine Thrive Dispensary and the closest city to the huge farm his people owned and operated in his youth. 

I left on Saturday around lunchtime, Casper the Friendly (Kia) Soul loaded with my camping gear, a cooler of beer and food, and my mandolin. It was smooth sailing up I-24 to Paducah, KY, where I stopped to explore a bit and discovered the extraordinary Paducah Antique Mall, where I spent some time digging through a vast record collection and finally asked Randy, who I believe is the owner, if he had any Steve Goodman albums somewhere among the 20,000 or so in the store. It took him a while, but I was tickled to purchase a mint condition double compilation set called "Essential Steve Goodman." That doesn't get me any closer to owning all the 17 studio albums, but it's a good listen, with a couple songs I hadn't heard. 

I crossed that funky blue grated bridge into Illinois cruised on up State 145 to Harrisburg, where I drove around recalling some of the stories Rocky had told me when we spent a weekend up there last February, of course dropping in on Thrive just to look, heh heh. I also pulled off 145 to re-visit Shotgun Eddy's roadhouse, where I chatted with a lovely bartender human I'd met our last visit and had a whiskey and a beer and a rockin' Reuben Cheeseburger with a side of fried okra. Pic:

Reuben Cheeseburger with fried okra at Eddy's

And one with my pal Sasquatch outside the bar:

Me and Sasquatch

I had never met Jim, Rocky's friend, but he had previously texted me to come on out and he would direct me to the campsite he'd prepped for me. My GPS took me to his address but I was following it and drove right past his clearly marked home driveway entrance to a gated gravel road, which took me back to his barn. Through the woods I saw the house, at the end of a 150 foot or so trail. I steered Casper down into the woods and onto that trail and muscled him through a little creek and back up onto the trail and up to the house. It was huge, with a broad manicured front yard, past which I saw an aggregate driveway and realized my mistake. I parked at the back yard lawn's edge, beside a cute little gardening shed, and walked up to the house, ringing the back doorbell. No answer, so I repeated the ring around at the front of the house. 

Retracing our path to the road, I found the driveway and pulled up to the house, thinking I might just nap in the car, but I got a text that he was not at home, but he asked me to call him for directions to the campsite. I did, and he gave me those, but what I didn't realize was that he assumed I would park there and carry my gear down to the site, while all the time I was assuming he understood I was car camping. I don't do the pack-it-in thing. Retiree's rights. 

I drove out the drive and returned to the barn, the trail, over the creek, and back up to the lawn's edge, continuing into the woods surrounding the house and maybe 200-300 yards down a woods trail to the campsite he cleared for me. It was at the edge of a clearing with a nice mostly flat spot for my tent, a beautiful steel fire pit, and handy strong oaks for my hammock. Through the woods below I could see a pond, surrounded with 8 foot tall grasses and covered by lily pods, water rippling in the afternoon breeze. I pitched my tent, hung my hammock, started a little cooking fire, and also set up my back hatch shelter extension tent and the little window screen for ventilation in case I decided at any time to move from tent to car for sleeping. I also expected some rain in the next couple days, which did appear briefly. I'm glad I supplemented the tent fly with a tarp over all. Here's a video:

By the time I had all that set up, the sun had set back past the woods trail and the other slurry pond and I had a little fire going. I played mandolin, sat by the fire, and leaned my camp chair back to watch the sparkling stars in the heavens through the thin treetop border. It was probably 10 or so by the time I retired to the sleeping bag supported by my air mattress, and snuggled up in the dark tent for sleep. I awoke several times in the cold, but slept well overall.

Sunday morning dawned. Chilly and foggy, with the (literally) star of the day just rising and making itself known through clouds. As the morning wore on I cooked some eggs, sipped a beer, and enjoyed the rest of the early afternoon, playing mandolin with my Spotify and Van Morrison's "Back to Skiffle" album, one of my faves. I napped a bit in the hammock, mostly just enjoying the sunny blue sky and the steady breeze. I had no T-Mobile cell there in scenic rural Illinois, and that was okay by me.

I had no butter so I scrambled my eggs in Jack Daniels. It all seemed just right...

 

I heard some stirrings up at the house but wasn't inclined to head up there, thinking it would be a bit awkward to meet Jim in person without Rocky, and he was on the way. I had received a text from him likely on data, but when I attempted to text back it was only "message did not send" time. He had expressed that Jim had some concern that I had likely driven over his septic system, and I had tried to let him know I did not drive over his lawn to get back there but had taken the barn trail. But no go. We ironed that out later. Jim was amazed I'd gotten down and up that trail with my Kia front-wheel drive but there ya go. Now he knows me better: I'd never dream of driving over someone's lawn without their permission and guidance! Certainly not that one, which was so tended and flawless I was a little hesitant even to walk on it!

Sometime around 11 or so Rocky texted again, saying he was up at the house with his lady, Carol, so I walked up to the house and met the Andersons, Jim and Jennifer/Jen. He was cordial and clearly a smart human and she was pretty and gracious, and we hit it off I spent the afternoon on the porch with new friends, including Greg and Matt, Jeff and Robin, and it was a beautiful day, even with a little rain. Keith showed up from Nashville, and Nathan and Jerusha and Robin and Jim's mom, visiting from her assisted living residence. Jim fried up a mess of fish filets and we gobbled them down. I retired to the campsite early and spent the night much as I had the previous one. In the morning came the dawn again. The sun came up amidst fog and clouds but the online apps predicted clearing and so it did. Early a.m. I hiked through the woods to the other pond, making it to its edge, and took some pictures because it was so stunningly picturesque. 

Coal slurry pond at the Anderson's

Back at the site, I unhooked the tent extension from the wheels of the car (that could have been nasty, right?), tucked it into the open hatch, and picked my way up to the house. Rocky had walked down earlier and said there was a taco bar going, but I'd already had some eggs and Tinwings  curry chicken salad. 

The party was starting. Totality was scheduled to begin a little after noon and first contact was like 10:08 a.m. I sat on the porch with everyone, two professional photographers setting up high end camera gear and Rocky situating his telescope with filter and ready to go. I set out sheets of drawing paper in case the "snakes" made their appearance (they did not, but they proved useful anyway. Colanders were set out. Nathan was playing his amplified electric guitar, beautifully, and I pulled out my mandolin and attempted rather lamely to pick along from the other side of the big porch. Toward eclipse time Jim fired up his green egg and started putting out hotdogs and then plump hamburgers and cheeseburgers for everyone. Jeanette was holding forth and a pleasure to chat with. Matt and Greg, who drove 19 hours from South Dakota, were in deep conversations with her. Molly and Maya (Rocky's two charming and endearingly precocious grandchildren) were talking with all the adults. 

I had popped a little THC drop about an hour before the first contact and shared one with a new friend, and the effects added additional nuance to the way the light changed. It was like a stage set, with a technician in the wings making controlled tweaks to the lights, as things became preternaturally vivid, leading up to totality. A jet plane left a contrail that did not distract, but enhanced, like additional perspective. When totality hit, we all took off our eclipse glasses.

Some fun was had with the colanders after the totality had yielded to the point of last contact. I got this fun little video of that:

Pano in the Anderson's beautiful backyard

the long shot

the moneyshot pano after first contact

I loved that Jeff Frazier and Robin Conover were there because that let me abandon my amateur iphotography and just relax into the enjoyment of the last total eclipse visible in the continental US for 20 years. I can't wait to see what they took during those spectacular moments. 

Here's one I did take:

Whoopee.

Several folks hit the road just as soon as  the sky was a normal sky again, particularly Matt and Greg, who had yet another 19 hour drive ahead of them. 

I stayed the evening, sharing a pizza with the remaining partygoers, and having the unique and amazingly fun experience of playing mandolin with Nathan Griffin's acoustic guitar and singing with him for probably an hour and a half at the kitchen table. That, my friends, challenged the eclipse for memorability, in my book. 

I had chosen to break camp and move my car around to the driveway, planning to sleep in my car and leave as soon as I arose, because rain was predicted. I did not want to be packing up tent and all wet for the drive home. That was to prove a good decision, since I got to have a delightful walk to the road with Jeff Frazier to look at the stunning night sky. As we were returning to our cars, the clouds rolled in. I was awakened by raindrops on the tailgate tent extension around 6 a.m. and skedaddled (Jeff had already pulled out), driving across the state line into Kentucky and well into the morning. I made three stops. One for gas at Casey's in Harrisburg, where I pulled a dozen or more little seed ticks off my body in the bathroom, another a little side jag into Metropolis, where I got Hardee's drive through breakfast tacos and a snap of Superman in his eclipse glasses :)

I made another detour to the Casey Jones Distillery near Hopkinsville to pick up a couple of bottles, one for Rocky, and was home by noon. 

A good time. Was had. By all. Thanks to Jim and Jen Alexander for their hospitality and the memorable weekend in sunny southern Illinois! Thanks to everyone I met, all new friends, and to Rockyespecially,  for including me in the little "Festival of the Sun".