Anniversary of the Dawn

Happy Birthday Mom!

Mom, all everyone can talk about is how incredible Thanksgiving was, and we all know that was all thanks to you. I realized it’s easier to talk about someone when they aren’t around, which is maybe why I talk so much about how great Dad is more often than I do you. Having lived here in your home, in your home town, I want to be direct about it and say that I know now Dad was only as successful as he was because of you. Every great man has a great woman behind him. Maybe I don’t find words enough to say it as often as I should, but I want you to know you inspire me. Without getting into details, I just want to make sure you know how much I love you, and appreciate you, and realize that I am who I am because of who you are. You are the coolest mother ever, the envy of all my friends, and I’m so happy that you found someone to share your life with again. Watching you work your magic during Thanksgiving I realized how lucky Lillian and Abel are to have you as well. Winn is an incredibly lucky man, and when I see how happy he makes you it gives me peace of mind and I know that everything is going to be OK. You have so much love to give, such an overflow of love, I am just so happy you found more family to share it with. You truly are the dawn because you bring light into so many people’s lives. The other day I was thinking about that thank you note that the painter wrote you and couldn’t help but smile. That never happens, and yet you touched him so deeply he felt inspired to write you a thank you note for allowing him to paint the house. I don’t know what the world may need, but I’m sure it’s more people like you. Perhaps because I’ve been so lucky to have you in my life my entire life I worry I forget to tell as often as I should how much you mean to me. But even outside of me, as a woman and a person, you are a beautiful and radiant being, and without a doubt the world is a better place because you are in it. I hope you have a great birthday, thank you again for everything you’ve given me. Thank you for all your support and unconditional love, and for making such an awesome team with Dad so that everything could have worked out just the way it has. Perhaps not the way you may have envisioned it years ago, but blessed none the less. Whatever I don’t express with words I trust you know by heart. If there is any way I can be as supportive of you as you are for me, please just let me know. “My door is always open” so to speak, just in case you ever need an ear to listen to you like a friend. Just making sure you know, I love you forever.

Your Son,
Cole

The Ascension

The Ascension

If it can be that Life
Is a Creation of Mind of Genius,
Then Death can be seen as another Creation
Of this Mind.
We as Children also have been given
His power to create-through thought.
The stronger the Belief the greater the
possibilty of it becoming realized.
Then it can be seen that there is no Death,
only that which is conceived.

"He that believeth in me, hath everlasting life."
John 6.47

outside and inside / before and after / then and now

I’ve been going through my journals.
This is my journal from 8/1-7/02.
Dad died 8/18/02.

8-1
A year go today was the SCI show at the Greek.
My morning drive got me pretty pumped today, perhaps it was the double shot of espresso. Either way I came to work feeling pretty good.
It’s hard to realize I only have two weeks with my dad left. That’s why I really need to get my shit together. I cannot go through school again the way I have in the past.
Reading the Gita is making a lot of things congeal together in my mind. For the most part, it’s a pretty practical guide. I also like that it is written as a single mystical experience. The “field of dharma” is a metaphysical one going on inside my head.
What war is to be waged?
Sin, and evil, are not confined to the devil. Temptation, sensation, pleasure in temporary things, that is what creates sin.
The battle is the battle of the will to tame the senses, which is not as easy as it sounds, or as hard as you might think.
What do I want to get done before I leave? Dad is so cool about this. I think we are all being really cool about this to tell you the truth. Mom’s looking out for me, I’m looking out for mom, Brooks is reasimilating.
Shine your life.
It is about time for me to really grow up and take off in my life. It is much better that I do so before…
These kinds of thoughts are unproductive, probably counterproductive. I need to not make plans, but realize, and act.
Is a plan a good thing to have?
I guess if it’s the right plan it’s good to have. But how can we tell the right plan from the wrong plan?
So if no plan is better, then aren’t you making a plan for no plan? The plan is no plan, and then you are right back where you started.
Who am I writing to? Whose my target audience? For now I’m writing to myself more than anyone. At least I’m writing for myself.
Surrender attachment to results. Today I’ll go home and meditate, then sleep, then play soccer. Still your mind in me.
It is important to distinguish what is changing and what is timeless in the world that surrounds.
The manifest world is created by the Pulse, the point of intersection between the field and the knower.

8-2
Indeed, a person is his faith.

8-7

I think I need to write to myself more than anybody right now.
The days are getting numbered and I’m letting them slip through my hands, sitting on my heels. Dad seems to be getting progressively worse. His enthusiasm is high when he speaks, but he only speaks in short bursts.
We’ve gotten pretty used to the hacking noises. The only way any of us can sit in that room with Dad, and not be utterly horrified by the pain he is in, is because we have dulled it in our minds, and we love him. Even though spending time with him these day’s means watching TV while he lies next to you.
I wonder what sort of dreams my dad is having?
That is a question I’d like to ask him.
If dreamless sleep is the same as death, he might already be dead. What a powerful karmic experience to march slowly and thoughtfully into your own death.
The brothers come tomorrow, which means I think it will be a pretty powerful day.
I’m excited to have the family here because so far nothing is more comforting than crying with my mother.
There is a fear inside of me that worries I force myself to cry. Why do I do that?

found photos

There is something about words. In expert hands, manipulated deftly, they take you prisoner. Wind themselves around your limbs like spider silk, and when you're so enthralled you cannot move, they pierce your skin, enter your blood, numb your thoughts. Inside you they work their magic.

— Diane Setterfield, THE THIRTEENTH TALE

*

happy 21st Lance by the way

at the pig and a Pop story

I was in Piggly Wiggly getting a few things this morning, and as I was checking out, George Nix was walking in. George Nix lives across the Highway from the farm. He’s the one with all the goats. If you are ever at the farm and you hear a goat, it’s most likely George’s.
“How’s it goin’?” I said as he walked over to shake my hand in the check out line.
“Jus’ fine, jus’ fine. Hey, what were ya’ll doin’ over there at the farm yesterday?” he asked me.
“Yesterday?” I said as I scanned my memory.
“Well, mighta been the day before.”
I was worried for a moment because we’d been out of town, and I couldn’t think what he was talking about. We haven’t had a pig roast in weeks, so it couldn’t be that.
“Yeah, down by the lake…”
“Oh yeah!” it hit me. “Brooks and I were planting a weeping willow,” I told him and noticed the girl checking me out start to smile.
“Well I seen you over there, I was running back and forth, and I couldn’t tell if ya’ll needed help or anything. We just had 24 baby goats and so we were all over the place or I’da been over.”
“Oh yeah, thanks but we were fine. We were just planting a tree.”
“Yeah? Where’d you get that? I’ve been looking to plant a willow out behind my catfish pond, ya know?”
“That would be a great place,” I said, and finished paying for my groceries. “Brooks ordered it from the national arbor day foundation or something. I’ll find out for ya and let you know. Nothin’ better then planting a tree,.”
“Ain’t that the truth. Good to see ya, neighbor. Tell Jim and your grandmother I say hello.”
“Will do, take care.”
*

I’ve been going through some old journals, and in one from ’02 I wrote down a story Pop told me. Here it is…

There were three boys.
The first one bragged that his Dad wrote a few words on paper and got paid $100 for it. The second bragged that his Dad wrote a few word on paper, then sang it in a song, and got paid a $1000 for it. The third boy said he had them all beat because his Dad wrote a few words on paper, called it a sermon, and then it took 8 men to collect all the money he got for it!

Conscious Planting

Brooks and I participated in the Treevolution yesterday. Ever since I stood on the Wesley’s back porch with Uncle Tom this summer, watching their weeping willow weep, I’ve been wanting to plant one at the farm. I mentioned this to Brooks a while back, and sure enough, when we came back from California, the weeping willow Brooks ordered was here.

We decided by the backside of the lake would be a good place, so we dug a hole, and followed the steps he’d given me to type up a while back (see earlier blog).

I held the cutting in place while Brooks wound the few, delicate roots around the inside of the hole we had dug, then gently filled it in with the planting soil/organic mix we made with the soil we’d dug out. Then he gently firmed down the ground around the tree, and almost imperceptibly, seamlessly, I let go and the earth took hold. I gently let go- and the tree stood on it’s own. There was a power shift there, between the planter and that which is being planted in, and it’s subtle, but I think I feel it. I think this is a good way to think about the relationship between worrying about what you can control, and have faith that there is something omniscient that is all powerful and can influence your life invisibly.

Healing, for example. Healing is sort of like faithfully planting yourself in something more powerful and good than you think you are, and then allowing the Tao to return you to equilibrium. When you cut your leg, your skin starts to grow back whether you want it to or not. What is that state it’s returning to? What power causes your heart to beat without you thinking about it at all? What is a pulse? I mean really, think about it. Think about it. ...BaBump-BaBump-BaBumbp… Life is always trying to return to that initial perfect state, and something keeps it going, and going, and going, and going. Whether it be in your own self- or in the garden of Eden, there was once perfection. I think that is why we intuitively swim for the Divine, it just feels true. It resonates with our deepest self. Like bugs to a light, it just feels like home.

And now, for the first time, this weeping willow is begining to support itself. The soil keeps it steady, but it cannot grow the tree for the tree. The tree must work with the soil to learn to grow itself. It was planted tenderly and with love back into the earth from which it came from, from which we all came. This tree, which came from who knows where, is back home now, like a fish out of water it's back into the earth where it can breathe. Ahhhh, relief.

I mused on the process that was about to begin, thinking about how the roots are going to feed off the nutrients in the soil and grow, deeply, into the earth. Deeply into the earth, right here, on the farm in Alabama. And where did all those nutrients come from? I know how long it take's fossils to turn into oil, how long does it take to form a nutrient? What life cycle feeds the green? Ashes to ashes we all fall down, and the Sun of course too.

I know, planting a tree seems simple, and it is simple, but it’s awe inspiring just the same. Amazing the way nature works. Amazing that you can plant something, in the dirt, and it will grow. Life feeds off life, in accordance with one another. Of course there are some other elements, and threats like the beaver and bad weather, and that’s the part you’ve got to surrender to the gods, so to speak. Have faith the Higher Power is more creative than you, and remember the golden rule. Be conscious of your vibe, ya dig?

Brooks explained to me that, because it’s so cold, the tree is going to sit dormant for most of the winter. (I guess that’s the same higher power the hay fields are working with too, huh?) The reason it’s good to plant trees in the fall instead of the spring is because this way the tree can focus all its energy on growing its roots, and by the time spring comes around it will have a solid foundation to grow up from. When the spring comes, all that energy shoots up and out the trunk, and that’s when the above ground growth really begins. Think about it in relation to yourself. Which part of you is growing above the ground? Which part of you is growing beneath the ground?

The sun set just as we finished, and I had a moment of expanded presence vibing on the whole thing. I tried to imagine myself in five years standing right here, next to this tree. I wonder how much the tree and the land will have changed? I wonder how much I’ll have changed. Go ahead, imagine you planted a tree, and you’re standing there next to it. Are you there? Now try and vision who you will be in five years. Who will you invite to come sit under that tree with you?

Go dig a hole, plant a tree, and get your hands dirty. It feels good, you’ll see what I mean. Then comes the patience part, but that’s another part of what makes the experience of growing so beautiful. Trees grow nice and slow. This tree is planted for the future.

I think I might have heard stories about Dad trying to plant a weeping willow by the lake one year, but it didn’t work out, so we are hoping this is the year it’s meant to be; meant to begin. Weeping Willows need a lot of water, they love water, which makes the spot by the lake ideal. I’m sure Dad knew that for the same reason we do. I wonder if the reason there aren’t weeping willows here is because he learned something trying to grow trees that we are about to. If he were here, we could just ask him.

“Hey Dad, did you ever try to grow weeping willows down by the lake? Is there some reason this isn’t going to work that you could just tell us and save us the time?”

But then again, if I put it like that, I don’t think Dad would tell us. I think he’d honestly rather we just try to grow the trees ourselves and see what happens. I think that’s something he taught me early on, but I didn’t understand it I guess. I was unaware of what it really meant, and it was never stated this clearly. To be honest, if he was still here to tell me, I’m not sure I’d understand it yet either. But from here, standing right here next to this tiny little tree by the lake, watching the son go down on the farm on the first day of the first December without Pop, shivering a little bit because the first real cold of winter cam in last night, from here I think I understand it. I think this is something Dad taught me, but that I only understand because Dad isn’t here now. Dad would say you have to just get in there and do it and figure it out as you do. It’s like Arts and Crafts, I see now. Experience is the teacher, life is the teacher, get in there and get your hands dirty, it’s time to go.

God willing, in a few years, this tree should grow to weep out over the lake. It’ll be a mighty fine spot to have a picnic with my children under. It’s only one tree, but it’s a conscious tree.

Brooks and I said a blessing, and left it to be.

All this tree talk got me thinking about a poem I remember writing when I was on my NOLS course for thirty days in the Idaho/Montana wilderness. I sort of wrote it as a joke to pass the time, and it was meant to be silly, and to be honest I had forgotten all about it until recently. When I was home for Thanksgiving, I found my NOLS journal and remembered the poem. It’s not a great poem really, but it feels serendipitously appropriate to where I am in my life right now. This would have been the summer before my junior year of college I wrote it, and I think I’ll share it with you now. I could try and smooth out the edges, but it wouldn’t have as much character, so this is straight from the journal. Think Dr. Seuss rhythms.


To Be a Tree – written 7/5/02 on a mountain, next to a tree
ChS

To be a tree would be fine by me,
Big or small or wide or thin
I’d have a forest full of friends.
I wouldn’t have to move, just sway,
I’d be a dancer, the wind my partner,
Wake to the sun and bird’s song sweet,
Sleep with the stars never leaving my feet.
No feet at all, in fact, I think,
Just deep running roots and soil to sink
my seeds in, or cast them to the wind
Sharing my vision with my forest of friends.

Some might say, “Why be a tree?
There’s a million of them, and boring they be!”
“Maybe you’re right,” to them I say,
And chuckle sadly as I watch their dismay.
Maybe I should be a man,
Work all day, and summers too,
When I see children through my office window
Climbing on trees with faces of glee,
Thinking "Oh how I wish that could still be me."

No I think that’s not for me,
It’s nice but most men never see
How great it is to be a tree.
Growing slowly, up and free,
All the room in the world to be
And when it’s time my roots will dry,
The wind will dip me one last time,
I’ll fall to pieces, smiling if I could,
Life starts over, my life as wood,
Seeping back to the soil that bore me,
And in a few years I’ll be up again,
New friends to live for, new birds to nest.
Things will change, but I remain.

I realize now I’d rather be
A tree because they live eternally,
Until the man cuts all the trees
To build another office, smothering me.
Trees are living, always never dead,
A cyclical future sounds good instead
Of dying once, living with that dread.

To be a tree, that’s fine by me.
I hope you’re listening, help teach me.

Everything explains everything else, nothing explains itself.

Fire on the Mountain
traditional
Long distance runner, what you standin' there for? Get up, get out, get out of the door Your playin' cold music on the barroom floor Drowned in your laughter and dead to the core. There's a dragon with matches that's loose on the town Takes a whole pail of water just to cool him down. Fire! Fire on the mountain! Almost ablaze still you don't feel the heat It takes all you got just to stay on the beat. You say it's a livin', we all gotta eat But you're here alone, there's no one to compete. If Mercy's a bus'ness, I wish it for you More than just ashes when your dreams come true. Fire! Fire on the mountain! Long distance runner, what you holdin' out for? Caught in slow motion in a dash for the door. The flame from your stage has now spread to the floor You gave all you had. Why you wanna give more? The more that you give, the more it will take To the thin line beyond which you really can't fake. Fire! Fire on the mountain!

beaver practice

I watched a beaver swim laps in the lakefor longer than I could stand there, and I took a few pictures with my new camera santa dropped off early.
It was a good day, here look and see!

Beaver Smile

Tune: Battle Hymn of the Republic

---

I've something in my pocket that belongs across my face
I keep it close beside me in a most convenient place
You'd never ever guess it, tho' you'd try for quite awhile
So I'll take it out, put it on It's my great big Beaver smile.

"Standing On the Moon"
Words by Robert Hunter; music by Jerry Garcia

Standing on the moon
I got no cobweb on my shoe
Standing on the moon
I'm feeling so alone and blue
I see the Gulf of Mexico
As tiny as a tear
The coast of California
Must be somewhere over here - over here

Standing on the moon
I see the battle rage below
Standing on the moon
I see the soldiers come and go
There's a metal flag beside me
Someone planted long ago
Old Glory standing stiffly
Crimson, white and indigo - indigo

I see all of Southeast Asia
I can see El Salvador
I hear the cries of children
And the other songs of war
It's like a mighty melody
That rings down from the sky
Standing here upon the moon
I watch it all roll by - all roll by

Standing on the moon
With nothing else to do
A lovely view of heaven
But I'd rather be with you

Standing on the moon
I see a shadow on the sun
Standing on the moon
The stars go fading one by one
I hear a cry of victory
And another of defeat
a scrap of age-old lullaby
Down some forgotten street

Standing on the moon
Where talk is cheap and vision true
Standing on the moon
But I would rather be with you
Somewhere in San Francisco
On a back porch in July
Just looking up to heaven
At this crescent in the sky

Standing on the moon
With nothing left to do
A lovely view of heaven
But I'd rather be with you - be with you

a published perspective

Cheesy Ending
David Steinberg
2006-11-18

“After summer 2007, Billy Nershi is leaving The String Cheese Incident to pursue other musical projects. There will be only a limited number of Incidents between now and then. Current plans include Thanksgiving in Atlanta, a New Years Eve blowout in San Francisco, Winter Carnival in Colorado, and a return to Red Rocks. Presently, there are no plans for The String Cheese Incident beyond summer of 2007.
“The band would like to extend a heartfelt thank you to our friends and fans for all your support.” – String Cheese Incident.

“We’re going to play the happiest break up song going right here. It’s going to make you want to break up, even if you’re happy together.” - Billy Nershi introducing “Black Clouds” on 3/12/99.

No matter what people would like, you cannot control how people think of you. As much as SCI seemed to want to be associated with the Grateful Dead, their fate was much more linked with Phish. Sometimes it’s more important when you were born than who you are.
String Cheese’s history maps very well onto Phish’s. Band forms, gets big, starts playing funk, takes a hiatus, reforms, and then breaks up after an announcement from its guitarist. The only thing is that everything in String Cheese Land happened faster and the fan reaction was almost always the exact opposite.
Take the change in sound for example. Sure there are a few diehards who think that Phish peaked in 92 or 94 and never have come close to those heights, but it seemed that the majority of the fan base has been more than willing to roll with whatever Phish brings. [1] With String Cheese though, you can’t say the words, “String Cheese Incident” in a crowded room without hearing a response of, “I used to like them before they moved away from the bluegrass.”
So perhaps it’s not surprising that the reaction to Billy leaving the band is so different. I haven’t heard anyone saying, “Stupid Billy,” and I can promise you that no one is going to be throwing cups at the band at Honkytonk Homeslice shows. This move makes sense. People might not like it. They might miss SCI. However, everyone can understand exactly why this is happening.
A large part of the reason why Trey got so much anger was the sense that he wasn’t being honest with the fans in his interviews. The reasons given for the breakup were always changing and his actions didn’t always seem consistent with them. If he had come out right after Vegas and said the things that he said a year later about drugs and darkness coming into the band members’ lives, the reaction would have been a lot different. People might have still been mad about them falling into trap of buying into the rock star myth [2], but I would sure hope the vast majority of Phish fans wouldn’t expect anyone to risk their lives in order to give them music. It’s understandable why Trey wouldn’t want to talk about the drugs, but it added to the weirdness that was 2005.
With Billy, on the other hand, no one has the slightest bit of confusion. He was about the bluegrass. His acoustic playing - which was a large part of String Cheese’s appeal to me – got lost in the techno jams to the point where he’s tried playing pedal steel and electric. This isn’t a vague sense that something’s wrong compounded with a fear that someone might die if they keep going down the same path; the musical direction where Billy wants to go is obvious to anyone who has been paying the slightest attention to his career.
I’m someone who gives the knee jerk, “They were so much better in 98 and 99,” response to any mention of String Cheese. I really like the Homeslice. However, it doesn’t then follow that I’m happy about this announcement. Sure, I’ve parted ways with String Cheese to the point where I didn’t even bother going down to the floor of my hotel to see them play at Vegoose [3] – a sad development for someone who used to occasionally fly to see some shows – but that doesn’t mean that I won’t miss them. There always were moments that made the show worthwhile.
There was the great build on the “Angel from Montgomery” jam in “Black Clouds,” followed by Kang’s joyous mandolin run before the chorus reprised. There was the contrast between the techno and the bluegrass in “Rivertrance” that made both sides of the song much more interesting for the tension between them. And of course, there was always a chance to see “Land’s End,” to hear the dark section followed by the bliss that is “Glory Chords.” That will most definitely be missed.
In addition, hanging out in the crowd at a String Cheese Incident show always felt that the last ten years had never happened. All of the trends pushing people to be meaner and more judgmental never managed to have an influence. While that did come with a price of some sketchiness around the edges of the scene, the spectacle made even a mediocre show worth seeing and turns a great show into a life-changing event. I love the costumes and the hoopers and the general joie de vivre that permeates the scene. I will always be appreciative to the band for keeping that spirit alive during a time when all of the cultural momentum was in favor of stamping it out forever.
Thank you String Cheese Incident. We might not have always agreed on the direction you were taking, but I enjoyed having you in my life. Thank you for the LaHood Bluegrass Festival [4] and 12/28/99 – the insanity of Cypress week wouldn’t have been nearly as cool if it didn’t start out with the adventures in Vancouver – and 3/10/00. Thank you for bringing some wonderful people into my life and for inspiring me to finally learn how to hoop (well kind of). It’s been a great run.
Hey, if this anti-Phish rule has any more life to it, 2007 might end up being your best year ever. I look forward to seeing a last Incident or two to find out. Would one last Horning’s Hideout run work for you?


[1] Well at least this is true pre-hiatus. The hatred of “Secret Smile” and “Friday” seemed a lot more fervent than that for previous ballads. Leaving for a while might have raised the bar. Fortunately for any potential future reunion, Coventry had the exact opposite effect.
[2] More on that in a future column...
[3] In my defense, I had been up well past 4 the two previous nights seeing music in that venue and we had desert exploration plans for the next day.
[4] See http://www.ihoz.com/montana.html.

David Steinberg got his Masters Degree in mathematics from New Mexico State University in 1994. He first discovered the power of live music at the Capitol Centre in 1988 and never has been the same. His Phish stats website is at www.ihoz.com/PhishStats.html

He is the stats section editor for The Phish Companion and is on the board of directors for the Netspace Foundation. You can read more of his thoughts at www.livejournal.com/users/thezzyzx.

the path we're on is comin' to a fork now...

(Stubb's BBQ afte ACL this year)

Black Clouds

Black clouds rollin’ up the valley.

Black clouds cover up the sun,

Black clouds rollin’ up the valley,

How can I be sure that you’re the one?

Rivers rushin’ through the canyons,

Rivers rollin’ through the hills,

Rivers rushin’ through the canyons,

I’ve got a restless heart I cant keep still.

See this path we're on coming to a fork now,

The forest blocks the light of day

On this pathway we must make a choice now,

Stay together or go our separate ways.

Thunder clappin’ in the treetops,

Sparks shoot out in the night,

Thunder clappin’ in the treetops

Its hard to say who’s wrong and who is right.

Fire ragin’ in the woodlands,

Smoke blows across the fields

Fire ragin’ in the woodlands,

You don’t really know the way I feel.

11/24/2006 Fabulous Fox - Atlanta, GA
(Fri.)
Set 1: Close Your Eyes, Mouna Bowa, Just One Story, Joyful Sound, Windy Mountain, On The Road > Rain > On the Road
Set 2: Black Clouds > Born on the Wrong Planet > Lands End > Resume Man > Remington Ride , Elvis's Wild Ride > Lands End > Bigger Isn't Better > Johnny Cash > Lester had a Coconut >Diggin In' > Texas > Jellyfish > Black Clouds
Encore: Missin' Me, The Devil Went Down to Georgia


When I checked the set list from String Cheese Incident’s first night at the Fox this weekend, I was struck by a real sadness about the whole bit for the first time. My defenses were down and for a moment I realized what a big deal was coming to an end. In a moment, I had that emotional connection, that miracle “we” phenomenon, and I realized to a new degree how sad it is that Billy is leaving the band.
If I had a band, one band that was my band, the band I grew up with, traveled with, had those transcendental moments with, it would be the String Cheese Incident, without a doubt. I’ve seen them over 60 times during different periods of my life, and as strange as it sounds, it's kind of a family affair. It’s a different sort of family than who I spent my Thanksgiving with, of course, but it’s a family nonetheless. Just like coming home and seeing different parts of my self from different angles in space and time, seeing Cheese over the years offered me a spiritually reflective surface that is hard to find these days. Their music pulled me through some hard times when Dad died, and their music helped me connect more deeply with old friends and make new ones along the way. Their music let me experience moments of joy I otherwise would not have known existed, as they are unparalleled so far.
From the shows in Maui that Tanya and I went to when we were freshman, the same trip I saw Keller Williams for the first time, playing in the hotel lobby, to the Late Night show at Vegoose this year, String Cheese and I have been some places together. My friends and I have had some of the best times of our life’s at String Cheese shows, in the parking lots, on the road, just rocking out to a great disc somewhere. As much as I may want to skimp on the emotional and cosmic connection I feel with this band, for better or worse, it is there. As far as I'm concerned it's for the better, but I know what you might be thinking.
As for Phish, whom I love and respect dearly, I was simply too young to catch their real heat live. I wasn’t in the right place at the right time to catch them when they were playing small venues and theaters, where the real magic happens. Now I did see them live over 20 times, but most of my love for Phish was cultivated through recordings of their shows from the years before I knew what Phish was really about. I respect Phish for everything they are, and out of that respect, I respect that I simply wasn’t up there in New England when they were peaking and most plugged in with everyone and the cosmic giggle.
With Cheese I feel like I was a little closer to really getting close to them. I watched them grow and change at the same time that I was, and we connected on a because of that. In strange, mysterious ways, we reflected each other. Through peaks and valleys, my heart and my respect and my gratitude will forever be with the String Cheese Incident. I am forever grateful for the joy they opened my eyes to. They are my “Best Show Ever.” They were, they are, my band.

I wasn’t even there, but I can tell from the set list, the String Cheese Incident’s in Atlanta over Thanksgiving weekend were special. These were the first two shows they've played since the band announced Billy Nershi, guitar player and one of the founding members of the band, would be leaving after summer 2007 to go his own way and “pursue other musical interests.”
I remember when Phish announced the end was near, and all of a sudden their songs took on new meaning, befitting to the new context. It seemed as if they were written with the anticipation of the end in mind all along, but most people weren’t really listening that closely anymore. "How had I not seen this before?" it felt like. It was so obvious. “Don’t want to be anything where I don’t know when to stop…”
Some songs are just good, and you appreciate them for all sorts of reasons, but you don’t notice their real (maybe?) significance until you’re thinking about the end. And then, the freshness of the ongoing conversation, the ominous magic of each night's intimate set list, the part that started the whole thing, it all comes around again with a new freshness in a final flare before leaving the atmosphere.
For example, I can tell that the first night’s Black Clouds sandwich set, filled with all the Nershi classics, was one of those sets that could only mean as much as it did the night they played it. I remember when they played a Late Night set at Stubb’s BBQ after the second Austin City Limits festival. It was a few nights after Johnny Cash had died, and the first show they'd played since. They've been playing a song called 'Johnny Cash' for years, so for those who knew, it was certainly on their mind. For the most part I guess I thought the song always felt like a fun funny nonsense song that rhymes and is about getting on a train. There didn’t seem to be too much deep, hidden meaning in the silliness, until I heard it that night in Austin when they played it at Stubb's. “This one’s for the man in black!” I remember Kang saying. That night, when they played it, it was as if the whole song had been written for the day Johnny Cash died. They’ve been playing it for years, but for the first time that night, the song took on a whole new meaning. It even made sense. This may sound silly, but I dare you to go find the lyrics to 'Johnny Cash' and see what I mean. "Johnny Cash is on that train, and he ain't ever comin' back..."
When you’re at a show like that, and you know the history, and you’re caught up on the conversation, and there's something happening somewhere in the world, there is something that can be felt energetically that cannot be captured. The difference between being present at a show, and getting a copy of it, is a metaphysical comparison that makes all the difference in the world. Don’t doubt for a minute if that tingling sensation on the back of your neck is real, it’s real.
Night two’s “Good Time’s Around the Bend” opener followed by a grassier set than usual seems like a nod back to their roots. I think I get it. I wasn’t even there, but I think I get it. I was giving thanks with my family in California, something I wouldn’t trade for anything, but I still get what a special weekend it was for String Cheese, and a part of me really wishes I could have been there. When I saw the 'Smile' encore I really got it. "...maybe I’ll stop traveling some day...”
God speed Nershi, and the rest of the band too. You’ve exceeded all my expectations again and again. I have nothing but gratitude for sharing what you did with us, and I wish you all the best in whatever direction you go from here. The only thing certain is change itself, and if there is one band that made an art out of constant change, it’s you guys. You can’t force the magic you guys tapped into, you create the space for it and if we’re lucky enough, if all the different parts come together just right, it flows through strong enough to leave an impression that sticks with you for a lifetime. Without a doubt, there will be good times around the bend.
In conclusion, what this has made me realize more than ever, is that I have got to get to San Francisco for the Sea of Dreams evolution. String Cheese gets together with some of the folks who put on the Burning Man festival and throw what is hands down the craziest party in America. They did it last year, and it was incredible, and this year, now that it’s the last, will be even more. More what I can’t say, that would be to limit it. How about more energy pockets to say the least. More emotion too it seems. I am determined and looking for fellow intrepid travelers to make sure we are in San Francisco for New Years to see their last two scheduled shows.
Come on now, let's get 'er done. Once in a lifetime, call me. Seriously, call me, or email me, we’ve got to get there, one last time, then we can grow up, I promise. One last New Years with the Cheese. All I want to know is, who’s coming with me?

(parking lot, String Cheese at the Backyard in Austin, Senior Year)

11/25/2006 Fabulous Fox - Atlanta, GA

Set 1: Good Times Around The Bend, Blackberry Blossom, Lonesome Wind Blues1, Long Journey Home, Outside and Inside, Solution > Blue Bossa, Piece of Mine, Little Hands > The Mighty Quinn (Quinn The Eskimo)

Set 2: Howard, Meet Me In The Morning (Dylan, first time played), Don't Say > Bumpin' Reel, Shine > Farther2, Best Feeling > people Everyday3 > Galactic > Shine Encore: Smile

1Bill Monroe, 1st time played
2First time played
3featuring Speech from Arrested Development

Smile

I call you up on the phone

I call you up get you on the line

I call you up on the phone

But I cant see you smile

I think of you when I’m gone

I think of you, honey, all the time

I think of you when I’m gone

But I cant see you smile

How the story ends, baby, I don’t know

And what’s to come, I cant say

And how the story ends, baby, I don’t know

Maybe Ill stop travelling some day.

I count the days while were apart

I count the days and I count the miles

I count the days that were apart

Until I can see you smile

I know that you feel just the same

You wish that I wasn’t gone so long

I write this down from so far away

Now I’m coming home

That I love you there’s no doubt

Your picture is hung above my bed

I look at it as were travelling around

But I wish I were holding you instead

Well its a long and windy road

Our love is strong and the future's bright

Its a long and a windy road

Until we reach the light

I know things are going to be all right

Because you’re in my dreams

when I sleep at night

You turn around and you look at me

And I can see you smile

I can see you smile

(Stubb's BBQ after ACL this year)

all the leaves are brown...

Just as I expected, a bunch more leaves blew down while we were gone. I was pleased to return to the farm and hear a heady crunch when I took my first step out of the car. When I went back over this morning, it was clear a little time in the season had passed, just as it should. Oh how I love the many faces of the farm.

And as the leaves fall, we find things, things are revealed, such as the green ball that’s been stuck in the tree out in front of the house at the edge of the field. Hmmmmmm… falling leaves reveal hidden green balls… if this were a dream, what would that be a symbol for?

What is the life cycle of a leaf?
City leaves are buried artificially in garbage bags.
Country leaves go back into the ground right where they land, or get burned for kindling.

Initial thoughts on the giving of thanks this year…

What is it to give thanks? How does one know they are giving, or thanking, enough? “Gobble Gobble Gobble! Don’t forget to count your blessings!” goes right up there with “Quack Quack Quack! Don’t forget to brush your teeth!” There is no time like Thanksgiving time to remember both of those.
*
Watching home videos of your self from the period of time in your life before you can remember, before your very first memory, is a very strange and shifting thing. Hearing your dead father’s voice encourage you to open your Easter basket can be a jarring and beautiful unexpected experience.
*
On Thanksgiving night I was looking for the “Gobble TV 2006” microphone and Lillian was the last one to be seen with it. She was asleep in the guest bedroom, in the bed next to Grandma, so I crept in quietly to find it. It was sitting right there on the bureau. I picked it up and stopped for a moment to watch Lillian and Grandma sleeping in the beds next to each other, seemingly unaware of the other’s presence as the y slept. And how could they be? They were asleep after all.
Standing there I tried to soak in a little of all the things that had to happen in life to set up this particular moment, at this particular time, in this particular room. It just happened to be Thanksgiving 2006 in out guest bedroom, but that was the end of a very complex chain of events. In that moment of expanded presence I could only smile deeply at the beauty of life’s wondrous ways. Here was Lillian, Winn’s youngest of five, sleeping next to Dad’s Mom, who came all the way out to California for her own special reasons. Five years ago, would it have been possible to conceive of this situation? Lillian and Grandma, the youth and the elder from two different trees, coming together like the leaf and the roots branches of a new tree. One tree. Not to mention Mollie’s brother in the kitchen raiding the leftovers. He’s part of the other tree that’s arrived to celebrate this Thanksgiving. Fusion everywhere. Young and old, one and one make one.
It was so nice to see so many familiar faces, so many friends. The Wells, the Garlock's, all the original family, all the new family, all the to be fused family. I hate to be cliché, but it really was the best Thanksgiving ever. I realized that standing there watching Grandma and Lillian sleep. There is no way I could have imagined this moment would have been possible from where I was standing five years ago, and that’s what I love about it. Life, nature, the Tao, whatever you want to call it, is more creative than I am. God bless that. That might be the single most exciting truth I’ve come to know. If you let it, sometimes, Life surprises you with something better than you could have ever imagined. No expectations open you up to opportunities for life to surprise you. This Thanksgiving exceeded all expectations to the point of new frontiers, new appreciation, new hope and more love.
Life is a better screenwriter than anyone, and blessed are we who are given a few good scenes to play. The web of potential, the space of the field, it is ripe and I am thankful.

November
chs

It’s about this time of the year every year
there’s a shower in the heavens
and it trickles down here
glowing stones, twists of fate
lights too soon, lights too late
never know how long I wait
until it’s this time of the year
next year

when you live on a globe
that’s the way it goes
spinning in an orbit
never know which way to flow
then before you ever go
it’s this time of the year
next year

it’s this time of the year this year
this time of the year this year
where you gonna be next year
when it’s this time of the year?

*

RIP Francisco Villanueva, which, incidentally, means “New House”, but other than that I have very little clue as to what any of it means, really.

*

(That tribute boat is what I made this time of the year, last year. This time, this day, November 19th, last year.)

on my way, way back home

Out of the Rolling Ocean the Crowd
Walt Whitman

Out of the rolling ocean the crowd came a drop gently to me,
Whispering I love you, before long I die,
I have travel'd a long way merely to look on you to touch you,
For I could not die till I once look'd on you,
For I fear'd I might afterward lose you.

Now we have met, we have look'd, we are safe,
Return in peace to the ocean my love,
I too am part of that ocean my love, we are not so much separated,
Behold the great rondure, the cohesion of all, how perfect!
But as for me, for you, the irresistible sea is to separate us,
As for an hour carrying us diverse, yet cannot carry us diverse forever;
Be not impatient--a little space--know you I salute the air, the
ocean and the land,
Every day at sundown for your dear sake my love.

*

Sometime during the last two months of my father’s life, he sat me down on the couch beside him and we talked. I don’t know how he knew, maybe because he was going home him self, but he told me something that rings more and more true the longer I live.
He told me that after he was gone we were all going to go through a period of mourning. Each of us, in our own way, was going to have to face the reality that he was gone, and for each of us, in our own way, it was going to be a process. There would be days when we wouldn’t want to get out of bed, but they would pass. There would be days when we were angry at the world and bitter and confused and sad that it was Dad, but those too would pass. He told me that even though, from where we were sitting, it seemed impossible to imagine a time when the process would ever be through, no matter how dark it looked, there would be sunny days again. He assured me that no matter how dark it gets, life goes on, one day at a time. He said he didn’t want us to lose sight of what is really good and beautiful and worth living in life, living with a passion.
He told me we were all going to mourn and grieve and heal in our own way, and if we could we should try to support each other, but he seemed to know somehow that we all would have to heal in our own way as well. No matter how hard it was to imagine what a happy day on the horizon might possibly look like from there, he assured me life would go on, we would heal, and we would find happiness and faith again. He wanted to make sure that we knew that we had a lot of life left to live, he wanted to make sure we didn’t get bitter and grow up too fast, before we had a chance to really live life and learn it’s truths on our own, in our own way, each of us. Dad was so modest he tried to help me start healing before he even went. I cannot tell you how blessed I feel that I am to be so close to such a radiant example of unconditional love for 19 years of my life. Dad told me that eventually we would need to move on and keep growing and keep becoming ourselves and doing all those things he spent his whole life encouraging us to do.
The most poignant thing he said to me that day, the things that sticks with me and comes back again and again, is especially fitting for today, on the eve of my flight home. He told me that in the coming years, every time I came home it was going to be a little different. He said that the experience of coming home would be powerful, and it would change every time. At first it was going to be weird and sad, maybe even a little awkward. Christmas would be tough because it would bring back memories, coming home from college, everything, it was all just going to be a little different. But each time it would be a little bit better than the last time, and each time everyone will be a little further in their healing, and even though I couldn’t see it now, after enough times it would be all good again. It’s not that we would ever forget him; Dad will always be the fiber of our family. Dad will always be “on the back roads of our memories ever gentle on our minds”. He told me we would reach a point when we could celebrate his memories, and miss him, but not be so burdened down with the emotions of pain and loss we were all feeling right then. He wanted to assure me not to lose faith in the fact that we would be happy again. In a way, coming home would become a way to mark progress in my self and see how I’ve been doing dealing with Dad’s absence since I’d last been there. He said that not only would each trip home be different, each trip home would be a little bit better, a little bit easier and a little fuller and a little more whole. Sometime, somewhere down the road I’d be coming home to a full house again, a full home.
As I get ready to fly with Grandma out to California tomorrow, to show off the house Dad worked so hard to provide us with, it strikes me that I’ve only been home for less than two months since I graduated from college last May. After my five-month adventure on the road last Summer/Fall, I made it home early November just in time to go to the dentist and move out to Utah for the winter. After Utah I stopped by down here in Columbiana and literally drove right into where I needed to be to help Pop move across the great divide and Grandma adjust to being alone for the first time in 64 years. Now here it is, that fateful Sunday before thanksgiving, on the eve of my first trip home in a long time, and again I hear Dad’s words bubbling up into my self and making me wonder where I've been since then. How am I doing in my healing process? What all has gone on since that day Dad sat me down next to him on the couch and foreshadowed all this?
I’m thinking about it and I don’t know why I haven’t been home more. I mean, I love home, I love being in the house and I love Pasadena and my friends there. There’s nothing not to love, it just hasn’t really worked out that California is the neck of the woods I’ve been in since graduation. I haven’t been avoiding home, right? To be honest I haven’t even thought of coming home, or not coming home, for some reason it just doesn’t seem to even come into my I-stream very often. Weird.
In my quest to “surrender to the flow” I don’t ask too many questions that don’t have worthwhile answers to them, but maybe this isn’t one of those questions. I wonder if, on some sort of unconscious level, I put off “coming home” sometimes because Dad was right; every time I come home things are a little different, or even a lot different.
All the memories are still there, I still remember being in each room with my father on all sorts of different occasion. I remember when he put in the pool house, I remember the parties he did or didn’t let me have, and I remember him reading the paper and eating his breakfast on the back porch. I remember him in his closet, I remember the things he had hanging up in his closet. I remember that he could afford to spend so much time on the pool house because he was home doing his chemo for so long, it was all he could do. It was sort of like his arts and crafts project I guess.
I also remember when he was real sick that first year and he couldn’t get up the stairs so we had him in that hospital bed downstairs. I remember he lost 60 pounds. I remember how much pain he was in, but only now when the memories come up can I really grasp it, and it overwhelms me sometimes. I remember him and mom would watch TV together at night, he’d post up on that couch right there because it was the most comfortable place for him and his tumor. I remember the stretches of time when we considered it a good day if he came downstairs at all. And I remember, clear as anything, the day I said goodbye to him because I had to go back to school like he wanted. I remember how cool his bald head was on my chin when I hugged him for the last time, and then left out the side door in the dining room to drive out to school.
As loaded as the house is with all the good times, there is nothing I can do to remember them without remembering them with the hard times we had in that house too. It brings back an inner understanding and perspective on my self and who I was when that was all going on that I can’t get anywhere else. The walls and the yard literally resonate with past layers of myself, my father, my family, my life.
So you see it’s not fair to say I don’t like coming home, because I do, though perhaps its fair to say I might unconsciously avoid it sometimes because it’s not just coming home. I can’t really just come home anymore, it isn’t that simple, because the process, the experience of coming home comes right along with all those loaded memories and it’s always a lot to deal with sometimes, consciously or not. Short of repressing and denying and avoiding all the painful, emotional images that come to mind, the other option is to walk straight into them, chin up, as honestly and openly as I can. There are times in my life when I’m more or less prepared and stable to do just that, and I’m thinking, I’m hoping, this time is one of those times.
This time truly is special and will certainly be different, because this time I’m taking Grandma out there with me and the whole family is going to be there. Grandma has never been out to California since we lived here, never seen our house, and she hasn’t been out of Alabama and off the farm in more years than she can remember. On top of that, not only is our whole side of the family going ot be their (except for Christian and Justin and Spencer and Kate because they are tiny) but Mollie’s whole family is going to be their too I believe. This quickly adds up to not only Thanksgiving, but an engagement party as well. Our first group in-law experience! Oh boy!
This time home is also really special for me because I feel like I get to show off for Dad. Not show off in a bad way either, but show off what Dad accomplished for his family, show off only and to none other than, his very own mother. Having lived with Grandma on the farm for the past several months, and really taking the time to root myself in this small town, and after doing my best to recreate what some of my father’s childhood was like and really getting a sense for where he came from as best is possible, I can honestly say that I don’t think Grandma has any idea what’s in store for her. I don’t think she ever really got a chance to comprehend where Dad worked his way up to after he left the farm, and the culture shock on top of that, I can’t wait! In many ways this is the trip of a lifetime for her, and for me too I suppose. I remember all of Dad’s coworker’s talking about how all Dad could do was brag about Brooks and I and our sports awards or scouts or school or whatever it was we were doing, and now I get to be the one to brag about Dad to his mom, to let her know and see this whole other aspect of who Dad was and what he did with his life that she’s only ever heard of, but never gotten to see. I know I may be making too much out of it, and I’m biased and all, but I don’t think so. This is a really sweet deal, Grandma is the best. With me it was going from the big city to the small city, now we have the small city out to the big city, and I can’t wait to her what Grandma thinks.
As proud of Dad as Grandma is, which is indescribably proud already I’m sure, I think this trip might find a way to make her feel something new, something more, something wider even. Not that any of it makes a difference really, but when you’re 89, to find yourself moved on deep, inner levels, is a very profound thing I would imagine.
So as for me, I hope I’m ready to come home with strength and clarity this time, but I’m not really worried about me this time. I have the perfect excuse not to worry about me, which is that I can put all that energy towards making sure Grandma has a good time. Just like Dad lives vicariously through me, maybe I live vicariously through Grandma. Hmmm? Just thoughts I play with…
This trip home I’m an escort for daddy’s mama, and that is what makes my heart glow more than anything else. Thank you God for all we’ve been given. Thank you for the foundation my life is built upon, the stock we come from and the examples we’ve had set for us. I pray for the strength to mold my own life into a life of example that is even one tenth what Dad, and Pop, and Grandma, and Papa Joe and Mama Nell and my own mother the Dawn have set. Thank you for the opportunity to show Grandma a new part of the world and a new part of her son, after all these years. We pray for safe travels, good timing, and can’t wait to hang out with good friends once we land.

exactly

I am sitting quietly in front of the computer, typing mundane words into a mundane keyboard on a mundane Monday morning. Slowly I begin to notice something unusual in the air, in the atmosphere around me, a soft incredibly fine flickering of rain, a gold-dust twinkling, a wistful mist sprinkling and shining everywhere, a quiet riot of psychedelic platinum enlivening every direction I look, the world become alive with the articulate beating souls of every single raindrop, each being a small opening, all of them small apertures, into a radiant infinity that slowly invades my mind and soul as well, my heart begins to fill with that radiance, to spill gratefully out of itself and gracefully back into the world, an ecstatic painful radiant bliss that touches each with wonderment, the yearning of love and the dreadful tears of tender embrace, each shimmering raindrop a hidden soul reaching out to me and then, suddenly, a collective cacophony of Gods and Goddesses all singing as loud as they possibly can, looking at me and calling to me and urging me louder and louder, more and more thunderous, and me to them, and spontaneously, uncontrollably, we all start shouting and crying and singing in unison, lord what a sound, what a thunder there was, as we all sobbed and we all shouted: is not this simple, present moment the very face of Spirit itself? And a total revelation that could never be improved in any way at all?
And with that, with the utter obviousness of it all, the rain simply stopped. I type the next mundane word into the mundane keyboard on this mundane Monday morning. But then, somehow, just a little, the world will never be the same.
-Ken Wilber

the good life

the good life
railroad earth

they got tired of livin’
in an apple going black
went up the mad river valley
and they never looked back
way up the mountain over campell ridge
up an old loggin’ road
‘cross an old mill bridge

they built a little house out of
stone they found
put their backs to the plow . . put
their seeds in the ground
water from the spring runnin’ plenty and good
from a hardwood forest . . choppin’
fire from the wood

oh . . they’re livin’ the good life
oh . . livin’ the good life

they got bread in the oven, got
books on the shelf
they’re lookin’ deep into each
others’ eyes deep into themselves
pursuin’ ideals with grace and style
and they’re makin’ ends meet with
their huckleberry guile
oh . . they’re livin’ the good life
oh . . livin’ the good life

way up the mountain over campbell ridge
up and old loggin’ road . . cross an
old mill bridge
they built a little house out of
stone they found
put their backs to the plow and
their seeds in the ground
they’ve got the power of the sun
the strength of the soil
they’re finding peace in their hearts and
faith in their toil

oh . . they’re livin’ the good life
oh . . livin’ the good life
oh . . they’re livin’ the good life

living legends

Me and the founder of waffle house last past weekend! I mean WOW! That’s the actual head within which the idea, very idea of "Waffle House" was first conceived! all of your many many Waffle House experiences on all levels are directly rooted in his head! This head! This one! If you have ever eaten at Waffle House, or even heard of Waffle House, this guy is a fiber in your life! Incredible when you start thinking about the chains of things, connections and all that, you know? Tom is very cool man, he's Winn’s uncle. God bless that man.

nothin' like a bath of fire

Bath of Fire
The Presidents of the United States

I let my thirsty boots wander all over
And they come home with lies about women
And in the evening toe up to the stars
Sun is comin up and somethings feelin funky

Old moldy korn club stuck in the mud it makes me
Wish for a million dollar view
Spend my last lone quarter on the korn klubs kool aid
And theres nothin else Id rather do

Theres nothin like a bath of fire
To get this deep down dirt outta me
Theres nothin like a bath of fire
To get this deep down dirt outta me

Yeah
Razor fanged rattlesnake only tryin to protect itself
I had to haul off and blow its little head away
Sucked out the venom, kept the little skin and
Meat found its way onto my plate

There go my boots complainin, tellin me its time to go stompin
Id better listen or theyll kick my ass

Hell is down there yawnin, hopin I fall head first in it
Nothing like a bath of fire to get this deep down dirt out of me
Nothing like a bath of fire to get this deep down dirt out of me
Nothing like a bath of fire to get this deep down dirt outta me

Nothing like a bath of fire to get this deep down dirt outta me
Nothing like a bath of fire to get this deep down dirt
Nothing like a bath of fire to get this deep down dirt outta me
Nothing like a bath of fire to get this deep down dirt
Nothing like a bath of fire to get this deep down dirt outta me
Nothing like a bath of fire to get this deep down dirt
Nothing like a bath of fire to get this deep down dirt outta me
Nothing like a bath of fire to get this deep down dirt

the power of the OZ

I’ve wanted to write a song about driving through Kansas and so I’ve been brainstorming recently. I was talking about it with someone and they suggested a spin-off on Dorothy and Toto, “I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore,” and such. Well that got me thinking about tornados and the symbolism of tornados and what sort of situation “Dorothy” might be in where she would wish for a tornado to come. What sort of situation? Say- pulled over on the side of the road with a dog going through her car (K-9 / Toto, you see where I’m going with this)?
Then I was cleaning out the final few untouched bookshelves in Nell’s house, and I found a bunch of children’s book. Interestingly I found three different “Alice in Wonderland” versions, three copies of “Jack and the Beanstalk”, and the money find was one full length copy of the original “Wizard of Oz.”
Needless to say I’ve been reading the Wizard of Oz, and it’s so much more than I expected. Wow! This book is at least as good as Lewis Carol’s “Alice in Wonderland.” I’ve been following the yellow brick road everywhere I go for the past few days, but that’s not the point. That’s not what strikes me to write this.
The crazy thing is that anyone watching the weather yesterday saw that there was a super intense jet stream that came straight through Alabama. It wasn’t a cold front of bad weather or anything, it was a jet stream. If you look at the satellite photos it literally looked like a wide lane of bad weather running right through Alabama. Wouldn’t you know, there were Tornado warnings in effect all day. Crazy huh? Anyone watching cable news would have seen it. All this brainstorming… better be careful.
I went outside last night and there were still tornado strength winds going strong. The fruit of all this is that I developed a new joy for strong winds the past few days. Standing out there, feeling the power of these invisible forces blow from invisible sources, wind simply amazes me. It is invisible, but you can feel it and see its effect on the things it blows. The sound of wind whipping through the trees has a strange calming effect to me now, despite the raw power. I got to thinking, finally, great kite weather! Except this wind would tear my kite to pieces.
This morning I woke up and saw that this is how all the leaves come down off the trees. I also came up with a new verse for the song, which is a warning for anyone driving through Kansas with something they aren’t supposed to have. Only Dorothy can bring on a tornado, so don’t count on it.

I also happened to find this on the Kansas State website:

KANSAS
WINTER WEATHER AWARENESS DAY
Wednesday November 15, 2006

The National Weather Service in cooperation with Kansas Emergency Management and county emergency management officials, will observe Winter Weather Awareness Day on Wednesday, November 15. Winter Weather Awareness Day is a day set aside each fall to prepare for the cold, snow, and ice expected during the winter season in Kansas. It is a day to promote safety preparedness for the potentially hazardous weather that winter brings each year.

Winter can mean rapidly changing weather that often catches people unprepared. Precipitation can begin as rain and quickly change to snow or freezing rain. As you travel, make sure to obtain the latest weather forecast and road conditions before you head out. Traveling even short distances in winter can mean dramatically different weather conditions.