December 2008 - Producer Bill thinks that I lost my sense of humor. I sent him the current crop of eleven songs that I've been out doing for the past year or so. I was afraid that some of the songs might have been too lightweight. There was a time when in the relistening and reworking of "Tossin'" I thought that it was too depressing.

Bill says that there is more to life than depression. He cited a bit of fist shaking in "Solidarity" and  " I Ain't Goin' Away". He says that he is worried about me.  I have to confess that I didn't see this coming. Maybe he is right.

I've been approaching life as if it were the first half of the "Deerhunter" , innocence on the precipice, like Bill Cosby used to say about Las Vegas: when you think that things can't get any worse, here comes worse around the corner. Eight years of the "W" funk. Thousands dead in an unnecessary war. I just heard an old gang-banger complain about the senseless violence in Mumbai. Friends have been foreclosed upon and repossessed and living on the streets. Just about an hour ago I passed my homeless friends who camp out under the I 90-94 viaduct and a city crew was rousting them out. Amazing that a cash strapped city can find the funds to roust some guy sleeping on a piece of cardboard under an expressway in 16 degree temperatures. You really see the need for them to raise our downtown parking meters to $6 an hour.

Of course, I can just let my eyes glaze over and get caught up in Obamarama. I sure hope that all these dreams come true, but I've been around the block before. I'll believe change when I see it. I do love the glimmer of hope, but folks can't eat this hope yet and I don't see it putting a roof over some folks heads. Tomorrow is always a wonderful place, but it just cushions what is happening now.

So maybe, I have lost my sense of humor, but I haven't lost my belief that you and I together can make it through.

Our mom passed away on 11/20. She died at home. Had a shot of Bailey's the night before and went to sleep. A beautiful way to pass from this earth.

To our surprise, she had cashed in every insurance policy. We knew that she had run through her retirement annuity. She had paid for the opening of my dad's grave and the internment of her ashes. She paid about $600 for this, if she hadn't it would've cost us double. Naively, I thought that the funeral home would have some sort of payment arrangement, but we were informed that they were a business and it was strictly cash only. We could sign over an insurance policy, but that was the extent of that. We had to sit down with my two sons and figure out how to get mom taken care of properly.

It cost us $250 for the funeral home to pick up and store the body. We had to shop for a cheap cremation. She didn't want to be embalmed. She didn't want a visitation/showing. She wasn't on public aid. She paid her rent with her social security. We bought her food and took care of whatever else she needed, so we received no assistance. One guy offered to cremate her for $500 if we allowed her body to be used for medical training for a month. Finally found a guy that would do it for $800. We sat around counting our pennies and trying to come up with it.

My wife's brother bailed us out with $2000. We all sat around feeling like total losers. My wife is beholden to student loans that didn't yield the increase in income she had hoped for. Son #1 is going through a contentious divorce. Son #2 just got back to work after a hiatus. And of course, I'm a broke down folk singer without a sense of humor that still finds rewards in playing two hours for the proceeds of a passed hat. Who says that I don't have that hope? We paid for the transportation and the cremation. There was another $400 for a burial urn.

And then there was mom's final wish. The funeral home offered us a memorial service for $1700. We could sit and look at an empty rented urn for four hours. There was a need to celebrate the life and provide a place for old friends to gather, remember and say good-bye. Mom wanted a party. A somber funeral home didn't suit her. I never felt good about being in one and there were better things to do with $1700.

I know that some wished that it would have been more staid and respectful, but then maybe they didn't know mom all that well. I could just hear her saying "screw these guys and their $1700". So we talked to our friends, the Lawless family at the Irish Oak, opened the bar and played her favorite "Celebration" on the boom box. The Sweet Adelines (her barbershop group) sang, Rev. Hamilton said a few words and I let mom sing to us through a tape that she left us. We put a bottle on the bar and encouraged everyone to have a drink with Dolores. It was the greatest funeral that I've ever been to. I do imagine that somewhere, someone is criticizing us, but I know mom would've been happy and that is all that counts.

So the life is getting back to normal, albeit with a hole in it. I haven't had much time for my own grief. It was everybody else's tears that I tried to dry and everyone else to console. I am a little numb from it all. Sleeping all night without having to get up and lead mom to the bathroom or turn her. Maybe the sense of humor will come back in time. 

I've been doodling around some songs like "Bill Says I Don't Have A Sense of Humor". Thinking about the hospice nurse telling me about terminal patients disengaging from life and looking at old pictures of my parents. The corner where they lived is supporting the third structure that I remember in my lifetime. Maybe sometimes life disengages from you as well. People living there now will remember the luxury condo while I remember Sonny with his clubfoot fixing tires at the old Standard Oil station with two pumps and the lighted crowns on top of them.

Life goes on. Apologize if I depress you, didn't mean for that to happen. God's stars are still shining tonight. That's a constant - so far.

November 2008 - Thanks to NYC for showing up. Maybe it is the law of averages or just the vast amount of people looking for somewhere to sit down and have drink, maybe  it helped to have Peter Himmelman playing at the Living Room downstairs too, but we had full houses for our shows. Nobody was shy and we had good repartee with the audience. thanks for making me feel at home in the big city. Hope to come back real soon.

Stayed on 11th Street and stumbled across the fact that another midwestern boy finished up his life in the neighborhood. Mark Twain had his funeral services at the brick Presbyterian church on the corner and a house he had lived in is still standing on 10th Street. I was going to go down and busk on Washington Square on Saturday, but it is under reconstruction and it rained all day. Hope we have other days. I should've been here forty years ago...

Due to my mom's continued failing health, I had to cancel my recording dates with Lou Whitney and Bill Glahn down in Missouri. I'm going to have to keep it close to home for a while. Life sometimes intrudes on our parade. As tough as it is, it is a joy knowing that caring for her in this time is truly the right thing to do. Not many  things that  I have done has been as free of doubt as this.

My next shows aren't until December, so I'm going to take  the time to work up my  fractured Christmas set . Hope you can come out and catch one of them. Maybe I'll wear a festive sweater...

October 2008- A chill is in the air and I'm getting ready to go to New York. I hope all my east coast friends can come out to a show. I must know ten or fifteen people out there.

I am hoping to rent a U-Haul truck and help the Bush family move out of the White House. Hit the road, George and don't you come back no more no more no more. The old man was bad enough and the kid was worse. I just hope we have seen the last of these losers. Sometimes I long for a good tarring and feathering. If we could have sent 41 off that way, maybe his moron kid wouldn't have thought it was such a neat job to have. Sorry, that I have departed from my message of faith, hope and charity but I can't think of any group that has had a more detrimental impact on the things that I hold dear.

Mom has moved in with us and we are all still getting used to the day to day routine of caring for her (and she is getting used to being cared for). This is a life passage. Hope to incorporate this into my music. I hope that you care about it. It is sometimes lonely doing this and most of your friends think that you are a lunatic who would be better served putting on that Home Depot apron and giving up any chance that your life might actually amount to something.

Keep reminding myself that Van Gogh only sold one painting in his life. One foot after another, one coffee shop, another bar. A renewing nap in a rest area and some truck stop coffee. Keep going on. Like my friend, Otis Gibbs, says, "Thanks for giving a damn."

September 2008 - "I come to you in troubled times." Utah Phillips used to say that. It seems like the times were always troubled, but now they seem especially hard. Traveling around it isn't hard to spot the foreclosure signs, the empty storefronts and the folks all hanging around looking for a break to come rolling down the street.

There is no place for me in this world except with a guitar in my hand -it is my shovel and my plow-  singing my songs for you. We aren't alone in this. I can see by your eyes you think you're beaten and you might see a little quit in my eyes too, but we can pool our strengths and beat this. Give me an hour or two of your time to replenish each other's faith. I'll hustle the gas money to get there. Hope you can buy a CD or a t-shirt to help me down the road.

As always, thanks.

After Lemars, my mom got sick. A blocked bile duct and a mass inside that they don't know quite what it is. It's been a month in the hospital and she is getting her strength back again. She's yodeling a bit, but not back to singing yet. It is her lifeblood as it is mine. In the darkest hours when her life was in the balance, I told her to try and breath in rhythm and she did. The prognosis is never good when you are 85. Again, we'll make it through. Life just took a left turn on us.

August 2008  - After five months we are closing down our Tuesday night series at the Horseshoe in Chicago. 8/19 is our last night with Kelly Steward and Judge Fletcher.

Looking forward to our week in Lemars, Iowa at the National Old Time Country and Bluegrass Festival. Trying to work out a trip to New York City in November. If any of you think that you may come out and see me let me know. I have no idea what my draw would be in New York. I just have to rely on what you tell me. If there is no interest, I'll try and book Christmas,Michigan again. Let me know.