Mari's River City Eatery

December 5, 2015 - St. Peter, Minnesota. Heading to my evening gig in Windom at Mari's River City Eatery. Its always a great time and often either the first or last stop on a tour. Here in St. Peter I've stopped at the River Rock Cafe, as I often do.  The town is hopping. There is a steady enthusiasm and bustling in the air, college (Gustavus Adolphus is here) is nearing finals, Holidays coming - you can sense an enthusiasm.  I've spent so much of the last few days watching clips about San Bernardino, Russia and Turkey, Syria, and the frightening thugish idiocy of Trump, that this all seems surreal to me. I wonder how all of this will appear in ten years... twenty.... I am in a window seat here, but will people still choose window seats at restaurants? How will we look at strangers and those who do not look like we might? Will we look back at these days and the days preceding San Bernardino as some kind of "better time"?

Where the world is going - where we are going - worries me. I often comment on the political system here when saying these things, but I think it speaks for itself - so I can reserve my thoughts this time.... Except to say that I worry for an America where the leading contender of the other party says the President is tantamount to a traitor. Where the answer of a Pastor to the San Bernardin shooting is "arm them all!". Where hatred drips like tinsel in the season of joy. Where neighbor looks at neighbor, not knowing what they see, where our children are taught to trust no one.

But here, in St. Peter, at least for today there is laughter in the air, greetings, hugs, and smiles.  At least here, now, there is Peace on Earth.

World Cafe

November 30, 2015 - Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Just finished playing at the open mic at the World Cafe (photos to follow) after another lovely night at Andrea Clearfield's Salon. The Salon is a magical experience that I wish all of you could experience. Andrea has been doing it for 29 years, and each of the six times I have performed there has been a pleasure. I build my tours around this two song experience and for those who have been here, it is easy to understand why. I read a poem, and Sarah and I performed two songs. The first was a new one "Paris 2015". While the Salon audience was the first to see it performed, I premiered it on WMNF in Tampa on Jeannie Holton's Acoustic Peace Club. You can hear the whole show here this week, but this is the new song "Paris 2015" (warning: slight errors - hey! It's a new song!). Thanks to Jeannie, Ian, and Noah for making this possible. More on Paris in the next entry, but before then a final shout out to John Hayes for his great photography at the Salon and the World Cafe. This guy knows what he is doing.

Oklahoma City and Seattle

November 15, 2015 - Austin, Texas. Finished great shows in Oklahoma City and Seattle - House concerts hosted by friends who care about their communities. Margaret and Dan in Seattle on the 8th - champions of justice in the battle for the lives of youth; Mike and Carol in Oklahoma City - heroes of neighborhoods seeking to create a better city from a near-past that nearly destroyed that town. Radio with Phil Andrus and Eva on KTPZ in Port Townsend was also a kick. Two interviews, great stories, fun music... I'll be back in Port Townsend in late October for a couple of shows for sure and now with new friends! Thanks to you all (and don't forget to donate to KTPZ!) The cross-country trek continues: Austin tonight, New Orleans the coming week, then Florida, Philadelphia, DC, Cleveland, Chicago, Minnesota and then a drive back home to Alaska (Mom's joining me for that!)

Few took me up on the challenge at the end of my last entry - how do we deal with this ever-changing world - one where the patterns are beginning to show? I wish I had a less clunky way to communicate these things (other than one that wasn't limited to 140 characters like Twitter). Sometimes at a dinner (like tonight with friends Paul Schomer, his sister Amy and her husband Keith) I unload these thoughts and the dialogue (perhaps bordering a bit on a rant), crystalizes into a vision. Now, in the shadow of Paris, voices already muted fade into sad cries of anguish. Where will our next pain come from? What war is being fought here? What drives this deep-seated hate? 

The commentators say it is Islam, religion, and the perpetrators echo that call, but there is no God that would see these acts of slaughter as some kind of ticket to heaven. That is a lie masking something else. But what is that something else? Why would young people - youth of a certain age and ethnicity or religion - choose to shoot and kill the innocent, maim humanity, take their own lives? Who so doubts the value of life that they destroy it randomly?  There appears to be no moment of doubt. The path is chosen, the trigger pulled, the result certain. And yet there it is - on our screens. The consequences already unfolding: no more refugees; borders closed; ground troops from France in two weeks... If it is so predictable, why can't it be dealt with? What are the roots of the problem? Does anyone meaningfully ask? Or will we forever politically posture...

The pursuit of wealth, of power, of fulfillment of desire, rips off the masque of humanity from the leaders of this death cult leaving bare this visage of... nothing. No moral belief in humanity, certainly no real claim to spirituality. Instead it is a nihilistic view of the world, of life (though even saying that gives it much more meaning than is deserved). They prey on those who have nothing and no prospect of a future, victims at every turn of a world that rips them off, demands bribes, assaults them, hordes the wealth they produce, leaving them a prognosis of a slow death from starvation.

With no hope for themselves or their children, they cease to value life. And then there is a promise: "You give up your life; you go after those who have done this to you, and those you love will benefit. We will take care of them. You will wreak your vengeance in the name of God and in your death your family will thrive". And the author's of this? They believe in nothing. They twist the moral certitude found in these desperate survivors that the life of their own child or family is more important than their own, and they offer them a way to provide for that family within the context of the last thing they hold dear - their God. These incipient "authors" are nothing more than abusers, cruelly manipulating those of moral character to an end that twists their belief and that only serves the "authors". What do those "authors" get out of it? Power, sex, thrills, wealth... Whatever they want.  All in the name of a false piety.

How to dissuade someone from taking a path that has been so effortlessly presented to them? A path that so pushes back against the Sisyphean weight of their existence? The only answer is one our political systems will never provide them. The must have hope of a future for them and their families; a vision of a future that matters. And this cannot be a false hope. It must be real.

I wrote a line in a song once ("The Wave") "Where are all our moralists and all our leading hearts...? While the unnoticed keep on dying, they're building walls and shopping marts..."  And that's the rub.  If you want to have people value the lives of others, you have to provide them an opportunity to value their own path in life. The one who does the best job of offering a realistic future wins. For example, how could someone in the Assad regime ever hope to succeed? 

Tired of the corruption of the state robbing their future, at first people protest peaceably. When Assad strikes back they believe they can take their future in their hands and the revolution turns violent. To Assad power is more important than the lives of his "citizens" so he levels their neighborhoods. Without homes or livelihoods the last vestiges of hope disappear just as they watch the state disappear. Westerners wring their hands and say "if only they had left the strong man alone...". But they did not. We encouraged them in fact waving the hopeful flag of democracy only to snatch it back when things went South. Because that's how we always seem to do it... It helps us sustain our apparent beacon of possibility and hope. A beacon that now appears to be nothing but a mirage.

The irony of Paris is that it will lead to the end of the refugees flowing into Europe and that won't punish those who have given up hope - those who killed those innocent people - it will punish those who still have hope and have chosen a path, a desperate but real path, toward realizing it.  And then, after we take that from them, where exactly will those two million people go? What exactly will they do? Who exactly will they turn to?

Tonight Paris mourns and I mourn with her. But what can I do, or you? You see it's not up to us. The resolution of this rests with those who have the power to create a hope for the future for those who have lost hope. That means that those who can will have to give up some of their power, their wealth, and practice their humanity. So the question then is really this: do our leaders believe in humanity? And the answer to that question is the only one that matters.

No great ruminations

October 23, 2015 - Anchorage, Alaska. What a trip it has been these last few months.  No great ruminations as I sat back in disbelief and watched the rapid dissolve of American politics, drifted in to poetry and began to write music again. A summer in Alaska was most welcome. Hanging out with Sarah at the House. Dinners and sunshine - all combined for creative time. Read too many novels, but found again my joy in writing prose. More to come on that I hope, more to come...  Played a small house show earlier this month in Paciano, Italy for a great group of folks - guests from Alaska, Austin, Carson City and right there in town. Old friend Vonn Marsch joined in with Banjo. Local chef Tonino played a mean mouth harp, and Sarah backed up on vocals and sang too!  All in all a great time with new friends Leslie, Jody, Bob, Ruth, Tonino and Alan. Sarah and I decided to make it official to boot!

It has been a great time of reflection on who we are and how we live. I haven't taken the time to write here as I have been troubled by the veneer of freedom that we seem to all operate under.  Today, reading a copy of History Today, I saw this quote:

“With an increasing awareness of slave discontent, slaveholders targeted what they perceived as contributing to that restlessness: instruction of reading and writing. Suspicious of slave gatherings and paranoid that literacy could 'spoil’ a slave, they recognized that learned slaves who freed themselves from the shackles of slaveholder-imposed ignorance would be unsuited to a life of perpetual servitude.”

Indeed. It is that last bit: "learned slaves who freed themselves from the shackles of slaveholder-imposed ignorance would be unsuited to a life of perpetual servitude” that has me thinking... It is crystalizing a thought that has been nagging at me for some time, and beginning to influence more and more of my music. We dumb down education, we dumb down news, we dumb down our people, until the slow ossification of the bonds of servitude are not even noticed anymore... When you are overseas, everyone debates and gets what is happening around them it seems. Yet they look in bleary-eyed mystification at us: how can Trump and Carson be at the top of polls? How can the constant and escalating "shout" of our politics be the marker of the great democratic experiment? Where other nations build fair processes, we retard them. How can we claim a fair process when just 158 families dominate American political giving? When on one hand California expands voting rights, while Alabama forces Driver's License requirements to register, then closes DMVs in the counties with the greatest propensity to vote Democratic outside of the cities? More and more likely the rules are rigged here, but other great democracies endure change, grow with it and from it. Not us, it seems.

So where does this leave us? For me, its turned me, oddly, to music and writing and away from political activism. If the system is rigged, you have to learn to move outside of the system. I choose this path.  Living a good life, living and sharing that life with good friends, reveling in our human gift and modeling it for others. This seems to me, here at least, to be the path that might work best... What do you think?  Tell me, what do you think?

Juneau, Alaska

April 19, 2015 - Juneau, Alaska. It has been quite a few months since I wrote here. Life seems a whirlwind!  I had a successful Fall tour - great reception for Traveling Through, the new CD, and some great adventures since then.  I am gearing up for the Spring tour now - Starting in Reno on the 25th as part of Todd South's showcase series at the Wildflower Village, then Aspen, Colorado at the Salon at Justice Snow's (many thanks to Andrea Clearfield's unflagging support for that!) After Colorado, its back to Boise, Idaho for a Cinco de Mayo (May 5) House Concert then hard cross country to St. Paul, Minnesota for another (here for reservations and information for both) on the 8th! I finish this leg of the tour in my favorite restaurant in Windom, Minnesota, River City Eatery on the 9th. After a quick trip home I'm back on the ground and heading to Kerrville for a long weekend before returning back to Alaska.  Whew!

But where have the days gone? There has been a flurry of writing, much reading, but, as in so many other years, I am in Juneau mostly these past few months working on the things that matter to me in Alaska. Far too often I have watched as the future of my home state, Alaska, is put on the line in a political process that has, at times, been demoralizing. But, as in past years, I am again optimistic that when they finally gavel out this session, they won't have undermined the very foundation of public education, denuded public broadcasting or devastated our basic services to Alaskans who face an uncertain future.

There are many people of good conscience in this body that are momentarily distracted by the politics of winning rather than service to the public. But, time and time again, I have been surprised at the resilience underneath it all and how even those who have been bombarded with superficial sloganeering rise up and vote the good vote, cast the right ballot, make the tough decisions that pit them against the loud, but on the side of the good. So I sit here and wait on this last day to see what they do next. Let us all wish them well.

42 years from this day

October 16, 2014 - Anchorage, Alaska. It has been 42 years from this day that my Father's plane disappeared - it is an anniversary that we remember, but without celebration. An irony perhaps that seven months has passed and the last entry was also about a passing, a connected passing, that of Gene Kennedy, my Father's best friend. But that was the past and remembrance is a funny thing. Time distorts memory, memory fades and the present consumes us. Now in the midst of my Brother's fight for his political life, I'm caught in a kind of stasis - suspended imagination - as I watch the crumbling walls of democracy and find I have little will to imagine it different.  Perhaps it is the night - quiet with the edge of winter cutting in - that sets me this melancholy tone. Or perhaps it is just this battle between memory and moment that leaves me torn in reflection. I'm not sure.

But, really, I should be elated. Earlier this year Tim Mason and I finished and released our live Bone Collector's CD - the crazy mixing of poetry and music that we do to create "soems" or  "pongs". Seven songs that I'll post in the music and poetry section soon... We first released the new CD at the Old Songs Festival in Albany, New York in June and then had a bit of a formal release here in Alaska in September. It was well-received and sold a bit. One of the trifecta of projects I wanted to get done these past few years. "Six Truths" was another of those three.

But now for the third of those. I am but two weeks away from releasing "Traveling Through", the final title of the long awaited fifth CD (if by anyone, it was long-awaited by me!) I ought to be celebrating, but I'm drawn down by these other thoughts and this presence of loss. I suspect it will pass soon enough. Already I sense a bit of the momentum changing. Yesterday I commuted to LA for a visit to Bernie Grundman with Dennis Lind (the co-Producer on this project) for our mastering session. Bernie is the guy who mastered the best-selling album of all time ("Thriller") and whose shop just mastered the new U2 project (the bane of many an I phone 6 user). Charming? Yes. Talented? Absolutely. And the project? Better than I could have imagined. It has been a labor of love this work, but, with Catherine Curtis' superb artwork complete, it is now just up to shipping and handling to get me to the November 1 CD release at Side Street Espresso here in Anchorage.

And yet, I still have this feeling. Perhaps more than I should really write here. But, for now, it is enough. We burn so ever briefly on this globe in this vast unknown we call home.   

St. Patrick's Day

March 17, 2014 - Anchorage, Alaska. St. Patrick's Day, remembering Guinness Beer and Gene Kennedy, my Father's Best Friend. St. Paddy's Day was always Gene's favorite holiday (or so I like to think) - a celebration that started early and went late. I had the good fortune to spend a few of those days with him (he lived on the East Coast for the most part of his later years so it wasn't always easy), but I have always remembered one in particular. It was when I first learned the profound power of the fabled Irish drink. 

In 1984 my Mother was running for the U. S. House. As with most Democratic campaigns aimed at Don Young, we were in an uphill, perhaps Quixotic struggle, but we decided to fight the good fight. In the end we held Young to 55%, but it was a loss. Gene came up to Alaska to run the show - and we had our first real meeting as a campaign at Clinkerdagger, Bickerstaff and Petts, now no longer in Anchorage. I watched in amazement as the night wore on and Gene downed Guinness after Guinness without seeming to lose one bit of his acuity. Now it should be noted that I had, at first, attempted to keep pace with him so my perception might have been slightly off. Still it was a feat to remember - now a topic of campaign lore for those few of us who were there and remember.

When Gene was young, perhaps 18 or 19, he began keeping a daily journal.  Really, daily. He rarely missed a date though now only six of those years remain (each journal was devoted to a year - no more, no less), but they tell a story of a man seeking purpose, changing in time as he realized the role he was bound to play in the world. See Gene had started life as a Republican, but the injustice he witnessed as the years passed, the intolerance in others, war, abortion, equal rights - all of these issues mattered to him and, in the end, he determined that there was increasingly a difference between the two parties on these issues. And, though fuzzy around the edges where the two parties overlapped, he became an ardent Democrat by 1960 when he first met my Father and Mother.

I've written about those days before - in a biography of my Father - but I have never really mentioned his story. Gene was an Educator and Administrator in those times (in both Alaska and Massachusetts) and an inveterate letter writer - keeping up a volume of correspondence that was intimidating to review (as I did when I sorted his mail for him before his death - that is sorted the letters written TO him, a number surely smaller than the missives he had sent out). But the thread through his correspondence always seemed to emphasize the same things - his passion for making the system better, his belief that others could do better, his focus on helping in the personal tragedies and celebrating the successes of friends, and his desire to keep this odd fellowship he had amassed over the years together. Nothing seemed to make him happier than when he added a new person to the fold, or found a way to connect old friends of his that had never met. This ability to build a network was not lost on me, and is likely why I maintain such a disparate group of correspondents and friends myself.

His Birthday fell on the same day of Kennedy's assassination - a day he could never forget and always honored. His Bay State namesake (though Gene was of the Protestant "Canady's", later turned to Kennedy), at the height of his promise, inspired him with possibility and purpose, and witnessing his life cut short added a fatalistic air to Gene's view of life and politics.  My Father's death nearly a decade later - at the height of his popularity and personal strength - only added to Gene's sense of sadness and fatalism.

And yet it was his humor his friends remembered most when he died - his "Happy Warrior" nature and his inevitable belief that, in the end, right always triumphed. He left the road to us and our journey as he completed his in 2002. I catalogued his small library and gave books, as requested in his will, to his friends, keeping some for myself. I shared the journals that remained with his local friends (someone broke into the house in the three days after he died and before I arrived and took most of the journals - except for six that had fallen behind a bookshelf). But outside of the influence on all of us that I know he had, perhaps his lasting legacy was his bequest of his modest wealth to the Scholarship Fund he created in memory of my Father. Today that estate remains fully intact and has produced resources that have helped literally hundreds of Alaskans - providing over $300,000 in scholarships and Fellowships, creating a library and archive, and supporting worthy causes that impact education.

Every St. Patty's Day I buy an extra Guinness and I leave it on the bar for him. As often as not the bartender asks why, and I tell them some story about Gene. But most of all I talk about his core beliefs and how they inspired me and others around the country to do just a touch better, work a little harder, and find a greater purpose. So tonight Gene, lets hoist one together for all of those times and those yet to come.

Austin, Texas.

December 1, 2013 - Austin, Texas. Last gig of this tour is tonight - it has been a whirlwind with a vacation over the Holiday with Sarah and her fabulous and fun family! Now in the musical Austin (as opposed to "Austintown" of the last entry). Thanks to J. Wagner and his partner Beth, a night of music ahead. Melissa Greener is opening the show, and it should be a nice mix of folks. The tour has gone well - Oklahoma City was amazing - Mike and Carol put on an incredible show and, after a short flight back to rural Alaska, I was back on the road to see Jan C. Snow and to play at her house in Lakewood, Ohio. What an amazing group of people - an enthusiastic crowd that helped set up the next two events - DC (at pollster friend Celinda Lake's home) and a return stint at the enchanting Salon of the lovely and talented Andrea Clearfield. I've nearly sold out my CDs and books, even after replenishing the total with Boston and Anchorage supplies! That is the kind of thing that makes it feel even better. We thrive on the sales of our "product", so a big "thank you!" to all of you who helped pay the gas bill... Now a week of recording with Dennis Lind Beery in Vermont before I head home....