When I was little, I ran away from home. Probably nearly everyone ran away when we were about 6, right? Something just made you snap and you threw some things in a bag and you were gone, outta there, they-won’t-have-Dick-Nixon-to-kick-around-anymore style. Do you wish you still had that bag? Do you remember what you took? I had a little portable record player with a lid and a handle and I stuffed it full of underwear and that was gonna do me, I guess. I remember not getting too far away, it was dark and the bats were out and the corn makes this really creepy sound at night when there’s nothing else to drown it out. It got the best of me and I turned for the warm lights of home. What really ticked me off, though, is that no one apparently realized I was gone. It was a big deal to me, checking out, never gonna see any of you all again, and I expected a big homecoming and some tears and apologizing and some sincere promises of ways that are gonna be changed, but there was none of that. The folks were playing cards, someone glanced up and said “gonna play some records, son?”. Well, I did, but not for them. It’s a big weekend coming up, I’m running away again, definitely packing some extra clothes, Boats and Bluegrass in Winona is this weekend, and I play Thursday with some folks I don’t normally get to play with. Then Friday it’s the beautiful Orpheum Theatre in Hancock MI and on Saturday the Richardson Nature Center is throwing a party with Raptors and music and all kinds of stuff, you can see about it here https://facebook/events/1523585931188682/ and stop by if you can.
Posted on: Tue, 23 Sep 2014 18:38:06 +0000
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