Tenderness

I've probably logged in about 45 years of "bud time" with thizguy. On the one hand it's monumental. On the other hand, it's just a long dang time. I've climbed great trees that aren't this old.
I don't often over-think this, this kind of unnatural...thing until a picture like this comes along. And only then do I start to toss around how we have managed to stay afloat where other, more Olympic style attempts have not. If I dumb it down, I'd guess proximity, forgiveness and Stephen Stills have all played some role in this.

I'm not going to scratch out a long list of things we've done for each other over the years because that's too labor intensive. And friends should not be about labor intensive-ness. It is important however to expose some things from time to time like when he nonchalantly said yes when I needed a place to stash my collection of Playboy, Penthouse and Oui magazines from the 80s when I married for the second time. Or when we were in high school, he offered his parents home as a safe house when some of us where on the lamb from the police for streaking down Main Street. Or this tender moment when we were setting up at a bar and Jack had a power source question or some shit and he asked me for the name of the manager and I gave him the first name that cropped up and he called out, "Pete, Pete," to nobody as the rest of us sat back, doubled up in pain from laughing so hard. Cheers, old timer.

This picture is taken at Tapper's Cabin probably around '74 or '75.
Sent to me from Anne Vanderlawn Williams via Mark Vanderlawn.

Nehmen Sie Das Van

Rendezvoused with Greg, Mitch and Jack at the lake last Saturday. Stowed the guitars and a few amps and finally us into the van and headed south toward the Indiana border.
Sir Gerg and I sat side by side in back knockin' knee caps while semi-sandwiched between the gear.

Early afternoon and it was sweaty hot with the only air conditioning (er breeze) coming from the open driver and passenger side windows which did the trick actually until Jack lit that turd of a cigar.

It's been about 15 years or so that this particular configuration assembled together in one vehicle. And while maybe just a touch awkward for me at first only because the options for conversation were so numerous that it was difficult to know where to start. So I did what anyone might do and started leafing through the New York Times.

We unloaded and carried everything up a short flight of stairs to the side of the stage, giddy to lookout among the crowd, while another band was wrapping up their set.
Standing to the side we ogled and attempted to size up the folks to try an determine if our brand of guitar shtick would make a dent.
You can look all you want but you never really get a good impression until you get out there and rock 'em for all it's worth.

We did this two weeks ago to a very receptive crowd which was cool but the stage mix was, well, not so great. We feared if it sounded like this on stage what does sound like out front. But you don't know if you're not carrying a trusting soul to man the board during your set so you just forge ahead and hope for the best. This gig was the opposite. Kind of a luke warm reception with a few random, sweaty dancers doing their best to kick their shorts up in the heat while the sound on stage was mucho gusto! Adapt and Conquer I always sometimes say.

Sweaty, hot mid-afternoons on stage take their toll so we didn't waste much time packing up and listening to a few from the evening's headliner, ? And The Mysterians minus the ?.
We jumped in the van and prepared to do what any four guys with 2 and 1/2 hours to ride would do, settle in, crank open the windows and listen to the Lions kick some Patriot butt.


Photo: clydekeller.com