All Who Wander

Listen while you read:  Old 97s

I must live in this confusion
I must love to be confused
I must strike out in the darkness
Buy some time both new and used

Time to wander through the arches
Time to wonder at the ruins
Time to figure out exactly
What the hell I'm doing

All who wander are not lost
Just me, just me
Signals and wires both get crossed
Remember back when you got lost with me?

I must cling to that which kills me
I must lose my heart's desire
I must wind up worn and wasted
With a flatscreen for a fire

Will the stories make me happy?
Some facsimile thereof?
Will they give directions that will
Lead me back to love?

I must walk through walls of whispers
I must sleep 'neath sheets of rain
I must climb up to the basement
Just to slide back down again

~  Old 97s

Earlier this year, Old 97s released Graveyard Whistling, which includes "All Who Wander." If that title sounds familiar to you, perhaps you've come upon a similar line on a Life Is Good t-shirt? The phrase actually comes from a poem written by J.R.R. Tolkien for The Lord of the Rings:

All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

Pretty cool, huh? Unlike the protagonist in "All Who Wander," who claims Just me, just me, my daughter Jenna is not lost. In fact, she will find her way home tomorrow, assuming that my house is still "home" for her. (I think so.) After a month living and working in Amman, Jordan, she will be unpacking and settling down here . . . for a little while, anyway. I'm sure that urge to wander will take hold again before long. I will enjoy her company while she is here, and support her wandering when she leaves again.

Although L. Frank Baum cautioned us so many years ago, "There's no place like home," nearly all of our favorite stories involve wandering. It is part of our dreaming, part of our desire, part of our nature. Whether you wander around a forest or a shopping mall or a grid of city streets, there is always the anticipation of what lies around the next corner. And when we tire of wandering, there is home, a place we appreciate so much more after we've left it for awhile.

Welcome home, Jenna, my wandering child!

Waiting on a Song

Listen while you read:  Parental Discretion Advised

I've been thinking and I've been humming
I've been picking and I've been strumming
Just waiting, waiting on a song

I've been hitching, I've been thumbing
I can almost hear one coming
Now just waiting, waiting on a song

I look down in my pocket, underneath the bed
I walked under a lamppost
And one hit me on the head

Am I blind or too dumb to see
All the sounds surrounding me?
I'm just waiting, waiting on a song

You can look up at the stars
Bow your head and count the cars
You'll still be waiting, waiting on a song

Might be a bluebird or a crow
On a car between two posts
They're just waiting, waiting on a song

Songs don't blow on trees, you gotta pick them out the breeze
You fall down on your knees
And pray one comes along

When those railroad gates come down
You gotta stop and turn around
Or you'll be waiting, waiting on a song

You'll be waiting, waiting on a song

~  Dan Auerbach (co-written with John Prine)

I think I just stepped back in time. This mellow-70s-California-pop song put me right back to those days when all that mattered was looking hot and attracting some equally hot-looking dude to make out with at the drive-in. Hard to believe that this is Dan Auerbach of The Black Keys and The Arcs. The song appears on the album of the same name, released last month.

If you watch the video (which is fun!), pay attention to the liquor store patron who buys booze for the kids. That's John Prine! He co-wrote the song with Auerbach. It's an ode to writer's block, something every songwriter knows well.

As for me, I spent this morning waiting on a song . . . not one to write, but one to post here. Some days, inspiration comes without me even thinking about it. Other days, I have to search. On this, my 212th post, I was coming up short. And then this little earworm took hold. Not being terribly impressed with the simplicity of the song, I resisted. But then I watched the video, and I found it so comforting to travel back to a simpler time, at least in selective memory. In reality, there was an unjust war going on, a draft, suppression of women's rights, and a horrible excess of polyester clothing. And yet, in comparison to the homophobia, xenophobia, and all the other phobias that are supposedly going to make America great again, I welcomed the respite from all-the-news-all-the-time, fake or otherwise.

You know, songs don't blow on trees. (What?) I hope you enjoy this one.

Gotta Get a Grip

Listen while you read:  Mick Jagger!

Gotta get a grip, beat it with a stick
Gotta get a grip, she goin' for the hit
The world is upside down
Everybody lunatics and clowns
No one speaks the truth
And madhouse runs the town
Well, you gotta get a grip, beat it with a stick
You gotta get a grip

Everybody's stuffing their pockets
Everybody on the take
The news is all fake
Let 'em eat chicken and let 'em eat steak
Let 'em eat shit, let 'em eat cake
You gotta get a grip
You gotta get a grip
You gotta keep it zipped
And shoot 'em from the hip
Yeah, yeah, you gotta get a grip
Beat it with a stick

I tried diversion and I tried coercion
Meditation and medication
LA culture and aquapuncture
Overeating and sex in meetings
Induced insanity, Christianity
Long walks and fast drives
And wild clubs and low dives
I pushed and I strived
But I can't get you, can't get you,
Can't get you out of my mind
Gotta get a grip

Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah, beat it with a stick
Immigrants are pouring in
Refugees under your skin
Keep 'em under, keep 'em out
Intellectual, shut your mouth
Beat 'em with a stick, oh yeah
Gotta get a grip
Gotta get a grip
Chaos, crisis, instability, ISIS
Lies and scandals, wars and vandals
Metadata scams and policy shams
Put 'em in a slammer
Gotta get a grip
Gotta get a grip
Come on
Oh, yeah

~  Mick Jagger

One day after his 74th birthday, Mick Jagger released two singles, this one and "England Lost," both a reaction to a post-Brexit Trumpian world. He didn't wait for an album to be completed, as he wanted the songs out there right away, his response to the "confusion and frustration with the times we live in." In the two days since the release of the songs, I would posit that the confusion and frustration has gotten even more acute, at least here in the States.

Did you watch the video? It's as gritty as Jagger's voice. I admit to not really getting it. I consulted The Guardian, which told me that it "features Jemima Kirke of Girls fame as a cigarette-smoking protagonist in an array of sweaty nightclub revelers, whose attempts to get down seem to turn into a labored, solemn frenzy." I still don't get it. But then, I'm old. Two things are for sure, though: the song is a toe-tapper, and Jagger sounds great.

Jagger's rhyming in the song reminds me of early Dylan, especially "Subterranean Homesick Blues." I'm guessing he had some fun writing the song. And that speaks to his own analysis of the song's intent. "The message, I suppose, is -- despite all those things that are happening, you gotta get on with your own life, be yourself, and attempt to create your own destiny."

I'm on it, Mick.

Eyes of the World

Listen while you read: 4/26/77

Right outside this lazy summer home
You don't have time to call your soul a critic, no
Right outside the lazy gate of winter's summer home
Wondering where the nuthatch winters
Wings a mile long just carried the bird away

Wake up to find out that you are the eyes of the world
But the heart has its beaches, its homeland, and thoughts of its own
Wake now, discover that you are the song that the morning brings
But the heart has its seasons, its evenings and songs of its own

There comes a redeemer and he slowly too fades away
There follows a wagon behind him that's loaded with clay
And the seeds that were silent all burst into bloom and decay
The night comes so quiet and it's close on the heels of the day

Wake up . . . 

Sometimes we live no particular way but our own
Sometimes we visit your country and live in your home
Sometimes we ride on your horses, sometimes we walk alone
Sometimes the songs that we sing are just songs of our own

Wake up . . . 

~  Robert Hunter and Jerry Garcia (The Grateful Dead)

Do you know where you were 44 years ago today? I know where I was! Watkins Glen Grand Prix Raceway in upstate New York for Summer Jam, a concert featuring The Grateful Dead, The Band, and The Allman Brothers. With an estimated 599,999 people there besides me, it was said to be larger than Woodstock's measly half a million. The Dead did "Eyes of the World," which was released two and a half months later on Wake of the Flood in October 1973. The video linked above was filmed nearly four years later at the Capital Theatre in Passaic NJ. Pretty sure I was at that show, too, as I rarely missed a Dead concert that was within driving distance back in those days.

I love this song. It's on my playlist for my morning walk/run, and it always puts an extra spring in my step when Shuffle decides to play it. It also reinforces my belief that I have an awesome responsibility to see as much of the world as I can before I depart the planet. And it politely asks me to be observant, to take in all of nature's beauty, and to sing my own song. These days, I welcome that reminder, as I can easily become too bogged down in the terrible things that are happening in the world. Note to self: turn off the news and put on The Dead.

Summer Jam was a long time ago. My memory of it is not sharp. I remember having very chapped lips and sunburn from sitting too long in the sun. I remember neglecting to lock the door of the Port-o-Jon and someone opening it as I sat there. I remember the Friday night soundcheck which was a concert in and of itself. I remember being young. I do not remember the traffic, the rain, or the ride home. I don't remember how I got this old.

White Man's World

Listen while you read:  Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit

I'm a white man living in a white man's world
Under our roof is a baby girl
I thought this world could be hers one day
But her momma knew better

I'm a white man living in a white man's town
Want to take a shot of cocaine and burn it down
Momma wants to change that Nashville sound
But they're never gonna let her

There's no such thing as someone else's war
Your creature comforts aren't the only things worth fighting for
If you're still breathing, it's not too late
We're all carrying one big burden, sharing one fate

I'm a white man living on a white man's street
I've got the bones of the red man under my feet
The highway runs through their burial grounds
Past the oceans of cotton

I'm a white man looking in a black man's eyes
Wishing I'd never been one of the guys
Who pretended not to hear another white man's joke
Oh, the times ain't forgotten

I'm a white man living in a white man's nation
I think the man upstairs musta took a vacation
I still have faith, but I don't know why
Maybe it's the fire in my little girl's eyes
Maybe it's the fire in my little girl's eyes

~  Jason Isbell

"Every. Damn. Day. He manages to sink lower and lower, becoming more and more vile and repugnant. He is truly poisoning our country. Every. Damn. Day." My friend Mary Ann posted that on social media yesterday, after news of the latest assault on our freedoms came from the sick man in the White House. Whether this is a distraction from the Russia investigation or a nod to his conservative right base or a Hitleresque move to wipe out "the undesirables" (or all three), his "ban" on transgendered people serving in our military is beyond repugnant. I am sickened.

Jason Isbell has been a vocal critic of this administration since Day One. He wrote "White Man's World" the day after the 2016 election while taking care of his little daughter, grateful that she was too young for him to have to explain to her what had just happened. "The song discusses my perspective on race and gender. I think its inspiration should be pretty obvious these days. I think my job is to constantly evaluate my role in the human struggle for equality without feeling guilt or shame for things I can't control," Isbell said in an interview with Consequence of Sound. The song appears on The Nashville Sound, released last month.

There is no war on white men. And Isbell makes it clear that he feels no shame for having been born white and male. What he is proposing is that there is a responsibility to use one's position of privilege to speak out about injustice. There's no such thing as someone else's war. We are all in this together, and those of us who have little or nothing to lose must support those who do. Rolling Stone refers to the song as one about "the insular comforts of a more privileged existence surrounded by so much suffering." So much suffering, as this administration targets blacks, Hispanics, Muslims, women, pot-smokers, gays, immigrants, the poor, the elderly, the environment, education, healthcare, and the list goes on and on and on. Every. Damn. Day.

At the end of the song, Isbell questions his faith. And then he answers with the best (and possibly the only) answer: Maybe it's the fire in my little girl's eyes. Amanda Shires, Isbell's wife, joins him on that line. What kind of world are we leaving to the next generation? How long will it take to undo all the harm this administration is doing to our country? Or will the world end before there's a chance to do anything at all?

If you're still breathing, it's not too late.

Song for Zula

Listen while you read: Quite compelling . . .

Some say love is a burning thing
That it makes a fiery ring
Oh, but I know love as a fading thing
Just as fickle as a feather in a stream
See, honey, I saw love
You see, it came to me
It put its face up to my face so I could see
Yeah, then I saw love disfigure me
Into something I am not recognizing

See the cage, it called. I said come on in
I will not open myself up this way again
Nor lay my face to the soil, nor my teeth to the sand
I will not lay like this for days now upon end
You will not see me fall, nor see me struggle to stand
To be acknowledged by some touch from his gnarled hands
You see the cage, it called. I said come on in
I will not open myself up this way again

You see the moon is bright in that treetop night
I see the shadows that we cast in the cold, clean light
Now my feet are gold and my heart is white
And we race out on the desert plains all night
So, honey, I am not some broken thing
I do not lay in the dark waiting for thee
No, my heart is gold, my feet are light
And I'm racing out on the desert plains all night

So some say love is a burning thing
That it makes a fiery ring
Ah, but I know love as a caging thing
Just a killer come to call from some awful dream
And all you folks, you come to see
You just stand there in the glass looking at me
But my heart is wild, and my bones are steam
And I could kill you with my bare hands if I was free

~  Matthew Houck (Phosphorescent)

When I first heard this song on its release in 2013 on Phosphorescent's Muchacho album, I was blown away. And this is one of those songs that I have a hard time separating into its parts: lyrics, music, and video. For me, they are all part of an undivided whole. Together, the parts create a narrative that is emotive, stark, and compelling. And the song leaves me content with a mood, not necessarily needing to analyze or dissect its meaning.

But then, here I am with a page to fill, so let the analysis begin.

Houck says the song was inspired by a break-up. He also implies that the song emerged from some other place, as if he were the unwitting conduit. Whatever the inspiration or however the song came to be, I am grateful that the Muse entered Houck's being and allowed the song to exist. (If you would like to know more about the song's creation, which involves an escape to Mexico, read this Paste Magazine interview/article.)

Laura Barton says in The Guardian that "Song for Zula" is "a portrait of love as an imprisoning, ferocious creature to be defeated." A controversial statement, one that demands thoughtful consideration before nodding a complicit yes or shaking one's head vigorously in protest. I'll let you decide for yourself. But certainly, the chained victim in the video might agree. Perhaps it is easier to say that whatever chains us is strong and powerful, and it takes patience and resolve and an equal amount of strength to break free. Be it love, addiction, habit, or hatred, becoming free is an exercise not for the weak.

A key line in the song, for me, comes at the end. My heart is wild. In a civilized culture, we spend our lives trying to tame the heart, subdue the wildness. In one sense, I think that is necessary, lest we succumb to the chaos suggested in the last line, I could kill you with my bare hands if I was free. But in another sense, what joy and pleasure might we be denying ourselves when we suppress our wild nature? Mary Oliver, in her beauteous poem, "The Summer Day," asks: Tell me, what is it you plan to do / with your one wild and precious life? If your answer is "Tame it," I think you've missed the point.

"Song for Zula" is a dream, an allegory, a dare to question and possibly change one's status quo. And I dare you to allow yourself to get lost in it and maybe emerge enlightened, even if in some small and seemingly insignificant way.

Losing My Religion

Listen while you read: R. E. M.

Life is bigger
It's bigger
And you, you are not me
The lengths that I will go to
The distance in your eyes
Oh, no, I've said too much
I set it up

That's me in the corner
That's me in the spotlight
Losing my religion
Trying to keep up with you
And I don't know if I can do it
Oh, no, I've said too much
I haven't said enough

I thought that I heard you laughing
I thought that I heard you sing
I think I thought I saw you try

Every whisper
Of every waking hour
I'm choosing my confessions
Trying to keep an eye on you
Like a hurt, lost, and blinded fool
Oh, no, I've said too much
I set it up

Consider this
The hint of the century
The slip that brought me
To my knees failed
What if all these fantasies
Come flailing around
Now I've said too much

I thought that I heard you laughing
I thought that I heard you sing
I think I thought I saw you try

But that was just a dream
That was just a dream . . . 

~ Michael Stipe and R.E.M.

Okay, so if you are seriously defensive about your chosen organized religion, you should probably stop right here and go do something else. I do not wish to offend anyone.

"Losing My Religion" won a Grammy in 1991 for Michael Stipe and R.E.M. for "Best Pop Performance" which I find humorous, since I would never consider this a "pop" song, although I don't even know for sure what that designation means. And to further befuddle me, they claim that the song has nothing to do with religion or loss of faith. Apparently, "losing one's religion" is a Southern expression that basically means, "I'm at my wit's end." Stipe, a fan of the Colombian author, Gabriel Garcia Marquez (as am I), defends the song as "a classic obsession song," one about unrequited love. I'm not buying it. Even the "official" video is loaded with religious imagery.

Anyway, there's a reason I chose this song. The other day, I spoke on the phone with someone very dear to me. Our history goes back decades, and even though we were not always on the same page back when our friendship was formed, the ensuing years found us ideologically more opposite. Nonetheless, we accepted our differences and continued our long-distance friendship, one that was sustained by our love for one another. We speak on the phone a couple of times a year, and it's one of those "pick up where we left off" kind of things.

A few years ago, my friend found Jesus. Okay, that's cool. (Jesus is just all right with me, sang The Doobie Brothers.) We've had a few conversations in which we respected one another's viewpoints, but agreed to disagree. And it seemed a good idea to talk about other things. Not to make too much of a big deal about all of this, a second phone call yesterday has left me angry, sad, and frustrated. And I'll tell you why.

"There are a hundred ways to kneel and kiss the ground." Rumi said that. We are, each of us, all of us, on our own spiritual journey. I respect that in others, and I would like others to respect that in me. Certainly, I have had my own struggles trying to define for myself what I believe . . . and what I don't believe. I will admit that I have a somewhat unhealthy attitude toward organized religion. "Organized religion is a way to control the masses," my high school sociology teacher told us. A devout Catholic at the time, I don't think I fully understood what he was saying . . . but I certainly get it now. And I want no part of it. My spiritual journey is my own. I do not expect to have "the answer" anytime soon. I think that's the way it's supposed to be. In my humble opinion, much of the discord in our world is because so many others believe that they have the answer and wish to impose it on everyone else. No thank you.

Okay, rant over. It was just a difficult day emotionally, and I needed to vent. If you're still here, thanks for listening. And thanks to R.E.M. for giving me a song.

Picture Book

Listen while you read: A-Scooby-Dooby-Do

Picture yourself when you're getting old
Sat by the fireside a-pondering on
Picture book, a picture of your mama
Taken by your papa a long time ago
Picture book of people with each other
To prove they love each other a long time ago
Na, na, na, na, na
Na, na, na, na, na
Picture book
Picture book

A picture of you in your birthday suit
You sat in the sun on a hot afternoon
Picture book, your mama and your papa
And fat old Uncle Charlie out cruising with their friends
Picture book, a holiday in August
Outside a bed and breakfast in sunny Southend
Picture book, when you were just a baby
Those days when you were happy a long time ago
Na, na, na, na, na
Na, na, na, na, na
Picture book
Picture book

~  Ray Davies (The Kinks)

This one goes way back to 1968, but I don't remember it then. It got a second life when Hewlett Packard used it in a commercial for their digital cameras and printers, an effort which earned HP "Campaign of the Year" in 2004. Remember that? I do. The song appears on The Kinks Are the Village Green Preservation Society.

I am in the process of sorting through the thousands of pictures my partner took on our road trip. A much more proficient photographer than I am (and with a much better camera), Ed snaps away, always claiming, "Pixels are cheap." And who can forget a time when they weren't? Back in the day, not only did we have to purchase the Kodak film, we also had to pay for the developing of it. And then we had to (oh, horrors!) wait for the prints, sometimes for days! And given that we only got twelve (or later, 24 or 36) pictures per roll, we were quite selective as to when we clicked the shutter. Surely, depression would set in when the prints finally came through and at least half of them were over or under-exposed, blurry, or worst of all, had the heads cut off. I always put these in the photo albums anyway, because, hell, I paid a lot of money for those bad shots.

Now, we just click "delete" and send those bad pics off to the trash.

Like you, I have lots and lots of photographs stored in albums and boxes. The task of digitalizing them is overwhelming to me, so there they sit. And added to the mess are my late mother's pictures. I have professional photographs of my grandmother as a child at the turn of the (last) century. What will become of all these pictures when I am gone? These are the thoughts that keep me up at night. You, too?

Picture book, when you were just a baby
Those days when you were happy a long time ago

And there it is. We smile for the camera, creating the illusion that there was a time when all was right with the world, a time when we were happy. As Paul Simon sings in "Kodachrome," Makes you think all the world's a sunny day. No wonder we hang on to these memories. Perception is everything.

A-scooby-dooby-do.

The Troll Under the Bridge, Seattle

Secret O' Life

Listen while you read:  JT Live!

The secret of life is enjoying the passage of time
Any fool can do it, there ain't nothing to it
Nobody knows how we got to the top of the hill
But since we're on our way down
We might as well enjoy the ride

The secret of life is in opening up your heart
It's okay to be afraid, but don't let that stand in your way
'Cause anyone knows that love is the only road
And since we're only here for awhile
Might as well show some style
Give us a smile

Isn't it a lovely ride?
Sliding down, gliding down
Try not to try too hard
It's just a lovely ride

Now the thing about time is that time isn't really real
It's just your point of view
How does it feel for you?
Einstein said he could never understand it all
Planets spinning through space
The smile upon your face
Welcome to the human race

Some kind of lovely ride
I'll be sliding down, I'll be gliding down
Try not to try too hard
It's just a lovely ride

~  James Taylor

James Taylor thought it was somewhat pretentious to be singing a song about the meaning of life. So he deliberately crafted the title of the song as a take-off on Lifesavers. You know, like "Wint-O-Green" or "Pep-O-Mint." "Secret O' Life." He says he wrote the song in ten minutes while sitting in sunlight at his home in Martha's Vineyard, figuring that the song had been living inside his guitar for years. "It came to me in a flash!" I find it somewhat prescient that he wrote a song about mindfulness before mindfulness was a thing. The song appears on his JT album from 1977.

Post road trip, I am still in a nostalgic mood. Today would have been my husband's 60th birthday, had he been able to beat cancer. He lost that battle almost fifteen years ago at the age of 45. This song resonates for me, as it was part of the soundtrack of those years when we tried desperately to make the most of whatever time we had left together. I cannot hear it without conjuring up a video in my head of the two of us in Pete's red 1973 MG convertible, gliding down some hilly backroad, enjoying the ride. Indeed, love was the only road.

As I always say about grief, it doesn't get easier. But you get more used to it. In the fifteen years that I have been widowed, I have managed (sometimes well, sometimes barely) to enjoy the passage of time. Although it took a dozen years, love found me again, once I opened my heart to it. There is wisdom in Taylor's admonition: Try not to try too hard. I am looking forward to the rest of the downhill ride.

So Happy Birthday, Pete, wherever you are. I'm okay here. Love you forever, babe.

In a Drawer

Listen while you read:  Try this one . . .  or this one . . . or both!

Sitting on a bearskin rug
Listening to Grandpa talk
The whistle of an odd bird call
A photo of the long lost dog

Do you love me? Which one is it?
We should be living in a warehouse district
I take the day and the lesson it taught me
Passing off blame to anybody is easy
But darling, you know it shouldn't be like that
Can I go with you to the laundromat?

I found it in the drawer
In the drawer, I found it in a drawer
Took a little time, but now I found it in a drawer
Can't go on. No, I'll go on
Left it a long time ago
In a drawer, hidden in a drawer
I found it at the bottom, I found it in a drawer
Can't go on. No, I'll go on
I found it in a drawer

The creaking wood under my walk
Familiar like an old time song
A memory when you were young
Remembering a time long gone

Do you love me, baby? Do you love me?

~  Ben Bridwell and Jason Lytle (for Band of Horses)

There are two videos linked above. Watch them both and you won't be disappointed. "In a Drawer" is the second single released from 2016's Why Are You OK, Band of Horses' fifth studio album. That's Dinosaur Jr.'s J Mascis singing back-up vocals on the chorus. I love this song and I cannot sit still when it comes on. See if you can.

In an interview on the album's release, Bridwell was asked, of course, what it was that he found in the drawer. He claims it was finding his daughter's pacifier that set off the idea for the song. But of course, it could have been anything. What do we "find" in drawers? Things that we've forgotten about, things whose use has passed us by, things that take us back. So the song is one that inspires nostalgia.

I have been feeling nostalgic since my return from the Northwest. I am missing someone. I am missing everyone. It is hard to adjust to being alone after having a 24/7 companion for two weeks on the road.

There are 148 drawers in this house that I've lived in for 31 years. (Yes, I just counted them.) Imagine the number of things I could "find" in them! And that's not counting cabinets and shelves and other places where one can stash things. So many "things" that have the potential to send me off on a sentimental journey. While I have been trying to rev up the never-ending task of downsizing and purging my "stuff," it is an overwhelming endeavor, both physically and emotionally. It may take me years. How many more do I have?

A photo of the long lost dog. That one alone can do me in. I'll just put it here and walk away.

Mack

The Heat Is On

Listen while you read:  (Glenn Frey)

The heat is on, on the street
Inside your head, on every beat
And the beat's so loud, deep inside
The pressure's high, just to stay alive
'Cause the heat is on

Oh-wo-ho, oh-wo-ho
Caught up in the action, I've been looking out for you
Oh-wo-ho, oh-wo-ho
Tell me, can you feel it?
Tell me, can you feel it?
Tell me, can you feel it?
The heat is on, the heat is on, the heat is on
Oh, it's on the street, the heat is on

The shadows high on the darker side
Behind the doors, it's a wilder ride
You can make a break, you can win or lose
That's a chance you take, when the heat's on you
When the heat is on
. . .

~  Harold Faltermeyer and Keith Forsey (for Glenn Frey)

I apologize for the title of the link to the video, in which "GLEEN Frye" is named. Seriously, dude, proofread your work. Despite that error, I chose this video because it contains scenes from the movie Beverly Hills Cop. "The Heat Is On" appears on the 1984 soundtrack for that movie, starring Eddie Murphy. But it also garnered Glenn Frey a #2 spot on the Billboard charts and was his biggest solo hit. (Frye, of The Eagles, died a year and a half ago, as you probably know.) "The Heat Is On" lives on as a popular song at sporting events.

So we are in the midst of a heat wave here in New Jersey, although I think it's nearing the end of its reign, with temps moving down into the mid-80s after tomorrow. I did some garden weeding this morning until it seemed that my sweat was watering the plants. My log home does not have air-conditioning, but my front porch provides shade and a slight breeze for respite from the heat and the humidity. And that's where I am.

I was thinking about that old joke, "It's not the heat; it's the stupidity," and I cannot help but apply it to the current goings-on in The White House. News just broke of Spicey resigning, and I'm wondering how many dominos will fall before the kingpin goes down. (I know, I know, I just mixed my metaphors. Butchering the language seems to be in vogue these days, so cut me a break.) Will Spicey sing?

The shadows high on the darker side
Behind the doors, it's a wilder ride
You can make a break, you can win or lose
That's a chance you take, when the heat's on you

Oh, the heat is on! In more ways than one! Tell me, can you feel it?

The Garden Song

Listen while you read: Arlo's version!

Inch by inch, row by row
Gonna make this garden grow
All it takes is a rake and a hoe
And a piece of fertile ground

Inch by inch, row by row
Someone bless these seeds I sow
Someone warm them from below
Till the rain comes tumblin' down

Pullin' weeds and pickin' stones
Man is made of dreams and bones
Feel the need to grow my own
'Cause the time is close at hand

Grain for grain, sun and rain
Find my way in Nature's chain
Tune my body and my brain
To the music from the land
. . . 

~  David Mallett

"The Garden Song" has been recorded by several artists, most notably, Pete Seeger and John Denver. I chose a live 1987 performance by Arlo Guthrie for many reasons which will be obvious if you watch the linked video. In true Arlo fashion, he delivers a comedic bit in the middle of the song. He references two serendipitous things . . . a return trip from Canada and a parody of the song called "The Anti-Garden Song," with lyrics by Eric Kilburn.

Well, I was recently in Canada, as you know if you've been following me. You probably also know that Canadians use the metric system, as does every country in the world except the United States. So buying gas in liters or measuring distances in kilometers is a challenge for us, as Arlo points out in his bit. I seem to recall a time many years ago when there was a movement to have us join the rest of the world in using the metric system. It didn't fly. I doubt it ever will. Old habits (as well as arrogance) die hard.

Which brings up the other serendipitous thing. The state of my garden. Despite having a good and generous friend water the beds, it appears that the weeds and the blight have won. It's a wilderness out there. I'm pretty sure I just sweat off the vacation weight that I gained, trying to get a start on the endless weeding. Yes, I was able to harvest a few tomatoes and cucumbers, snowpeas and peppers. But the spinach perished, some apparently bad seeds produced no new lettuces, and my garlic bulbs look rather small. I doubt my underweight eggplants will produce any purple deliciousness, and by the time my green beans arrive, the Japanese beetles will have had their way with the vines. I've given up on the grub moths that put holes in the kale, and if I get half a dozen squash from the few plants that survived the chipmunk feasting, I'll be grateful. In other words, it's disappointing.

When I took up gardening after my husband (the previous gardener) died (almost 15 years ago now), I was passionate about it. Gardening filled up some holes in my life, gave me purpose, rewarded me with a bounty of sustenance. In those early years, I had no problems with blight or critters. Somehow, word got out, and the squirrels and chipmunks and groundhogs and grubs and beetles found themselves a new garden of Eden. It's a full-time job trying to evict them. Squatters.

But those critters are nothing compared to the weeds. And I am coming to the conclusion that I cannot be both a gardener and a traveler. Weeding must be a daily endeavor if one is to stay on top of it. If I have to choose between gardening and traveling, as hard as that is, I choose gardening traveling. I will be mulling over this decision the rest of the summer, and it is quite possible that the first roasted-tomato sauce that I make will have me questioning my resolve. But as I put each bed "to bed" this fall, I will blanket them with some heavy-duty black plastic, one last attempt at killing the weed seeds. Yes, I'm a murderer, one made of dreams and bones.

Before the weeds won.

My Way Back Home

Listen while you read:  Live from the WFUV studio!

A ballerina in Phoenix
The pines up north
The sunrise from a highway
That was not there before

If I can place it all together
Make out the nature of the call
I start to feel the love and the silence
That's always at the root of it all

In my constant quest for truth
I am condemned to facts alone
And when my dreams all lead me nowhere
I won't forget my way back home

From the corner of a coffee shop
Or from the center of a stage
From the words used in a love note
Or from an empty page

While I struggle with these beauties
And my renditions end up dry
I'm like a bird that crashes into the window
That was drawn to the reflection of the sky

And the more I try to speak
The more I lose the earthly tone
And before heaven proves me hopeless
I won't forget my way back home

I admit that these answers that I seek
Are all to questions I've never known
But I pray to keep on looking
For as long as I can roam
And when the world finally fulfills me
I will not forget my way back home

~  Taylor Goldsmith (Dawes)

This gorgeous song is on Dawes' second album, 2011's Nothing Is Wrong. But I did not choose the album version. This video was recorded in the studio of my favorite public radio station, WFUV in New York. It's just Taylor on acoustic guitar with beautiful harmonizing vocals from his brother, Griffin.

So, after a spectacular last day in Seattle (think Space Needle, Chihuly, Museum of Pop Culture, Ivars on the waterfront), I'm back home in New Jersey, and my partner-in-crime is back home in Florida. Different landscapes, different emotions. We shared fifteen days, 3,620 miles driven in two provinces and five states (in two countries), dozens of national parks and forests and monuments, lodging in towns ranging in population from 47 to 668,342. We visited breweries, bars, restaurants, castles, gardens, and a silver mine. We traveled through mountains, switchbacks, forests, rivers, lakes, and plains by car, by ferry, and by foot. We danced on the sidewalk in Wallace, we hiked up a mountain in Banff until our knees cracked, and we applauded fireworks in Anacortes on the Fourth. We took turns driving. We laughed a lot. We slept well. We met up with six friends that we'd known in other places, and we met new friends over glasses of wine and pints of beer (and I asked every one of them, "What do you think of our President?") We discovered fried green beans and huckleberry ice cream. We read Rick Bass' book, Why I Came West. We tilted at windmills and yielded to bison in the road.

We went on a road trip. And we found our way back home.

Oh, give me a home where the buffalo roam.

Ballad of Easy Rider

Listen while you read: (the quicker tempo version)

The river flows, it flows to the sea
Wherever that river flows, that's where I want to be
Flow, river, flow, let your waters rush down
Take me from this road to some other town

All he wanted was to be free
And that's the way it turned out to be
Flow, river, flow, let your waters rush down
Take me from this road to some other town

Flow, river, flow, past the shady trees
Go, river, go, go to the sea
Flow to the sea

~  Roger McGuinn (and Bob Dylan, uncredited) for The Byrds

Easy Rider was a classic movie, one that I should watch again, as I can't remember the last time I saw it. It may have been in 1969. In researching this post, I watched a clip of the end of the movie, and it was like I was 19 again, sitting in a dark movie theatre, devastated at what I'd just seen. It was one of those times when you want to turn back time and then hope for a better ending.

The story of this song's creation is legendary. Peter Fonda, who wrote, acted in, and produced the movie, asked Bob Dylan to write the theme song. Dylan declined, but wrote a few lyrics on a paper napkin and directed Fonda to give it to Roger McGuinn of The Birds. "He'll know what to do with it." And McGuinn did. He put Dylan's words to music, added a few more lines, and the rest is history. When Dylan saw the preview of the movie and his name on the credits as co-writer of the song, he called McGuinn and told him to remove his name. There are a few theories as to why he did this, but no one seems to know for sure, and of course, Bob's not talking, not even to the Nobel Prize people.

There are two versions of the song. I've provided a link to the one that is NOT on the soundtrack because I like it better. It has a quicker tempo, and to my mind, follows the river's motion better. It's a pretty song, though short.

The Columbia River is not short. Yesterday, we had our third encounter with it as we followed the Columbia River Gorge from Lyle to Portland and then returned to Seattle where we began two weeks ago. It was as beautiful a ride as we'd heard it would be. A certain sadness began to kick in, though, as we faced the reality that this road trip is just about over. The river may flow on to the sea, but we must return to the other coast, where other rivers flow.

And that's the way it turned out to be.

Volcano

Listen while you read:  Pretty graphic video

The world is spinning fast tonight
You can hurt yourself tryin' to hold on
To what you used to be
I'm so glad the past is all gone

Been out in the wild
Been out in the night
Been out of your mind
Do you live here or is this a vacation?

Volcano
You don't wanna, you don't wanna know
Volcano
Something in you wants to blow
Volcano
You don't wanna, you don't wanna know

Your eyes were like landing lights
They used to be the clearest blue
Now you don't see so well
The future's gonna land on you

You were alone
And now you're not alone
You were alone
But you are rock 'n roll
You and I are rock 'n roll
You are rock 'n roll
You and I are rock 'n roll

~ Bono and U2

When Paul Hewson (Bono) was 14, his mother died. Channeling that experience, he wrote "Volcano," a metaphor for that kind of pain. "After grief comes rage . . . the molten lava that turns to rock if it can . . . this kind of fire in the belly cannot sustain. If you're lucky, it burns out before it burns you out." "Volcano" is on 2014's Songs of Innocence, the album that came free with your iPhone if you bought one that year. (I did.) Although I did not catch U2 on their Joshua Tree Tour, I have seen them in concert a couple of times, and damn, they put on a great show. You might call it explosive.

Yesterday, we did some major sightseeing in Washington, and Mount St. Helens was on the itinerary. I do remember well the 1980 eruption of that volcano, the deadliest and most economically destructive volcanic event in the history of the United States. All told, 57 lives were lost, and 250 homes, 47 bridges, 15 miles of railways, and 185 miles of highway were destroyed. And here's something I didn't know: a massive debris avalanche, triggered by an earthquake, lowered the Mount St. Helens summit from 9,677' to 8,363'. Over 1300 feet lower!

After viewing Mt. Rainier rising above the clouds, we drove Rt. 25 south, expecting to take Rt. 99 west for spectacular views of Mt. St. Helens. Such a disappointment to find the road closed! We continued on Rt. 25 and luckily, came upon some viewpoints. Rt. 25 then dropped us down on the Columbia River Gorge where we headed west to Lyle and our lodging for the night. An amazing dinner, new friends, and too much local wine capped off a full and beautiful day.

Grand Coulee Dam

Listen while you read: Woody Guthrie!

Well, the world has seven wonders, the travelers always tell
Some gardens and some towers, I guess you know them well
But the greatest wonder is in Uncle Sam's fair land
It's that King Columbia River and the big Grand Coulee Dam

She heads up the Canadian Rockies where the rippling waters glide
Comes a-rumbling down the canyon to meet that salty tide
Of the wide Pacific Ocean where the sun sets in the west
And the big Grand Coulee country in the land that I love best

In the misty crystal glitter of that wild and windward spray
Men have fought the pounding waters and met a watery grave
Well, she tore their boats to splinters but she gave men dreams to dream
Of the day the Coulee Dam would cross that wild and wasted stream

Uncle Sam took up the challenge in the year of '33
For the farmer and the factory and all of you and me
He said, "Roll along, Columbia. You can ramble to the sea
But, River, while you're ramblin', you can do some work for me

Now in Washington and Oregon, you hear the factories hum
Making chrome and making manganese and light aluminum
And there roars a mighty furnace now to fight for Uncle Sam
Spawned upon the King Columbia by the big Grand Coulee Dam

~  Woody Guthrie

A little over a year ago, the Bonneville Power Administration celebrated the 75th anniversary of the Grand Coulee Dam in the state of Washington. And it was 75 years ago that they hired Woody Guthrie to work for them for a month, writing songs to promote the dam project. He wrote 26 songs for them, including the one featured here, and called them The Columbia River Songs. For his efforts, he was paid $266.66. Do the math. That's a little over $10.25 per song. His granddaughter, Anna Canoni, who is also a director of the Woody Guthrie Foundation, says that she believes that was the only time Woody was paid to write songs.

"Grand Coulee Dam" can be found on This Land Is Your Land: The Asch Recordings, Vol. 1, released in 1941.

Seeing the Grand Coulee Dam, I have to admit, was a bit of a disappointment. Whereas Hoover Dam and Glen Canyon Dam and others have a certain architectural and aesthetic beauty, Grand Coulee appears very functional, practical, and not at all aesthetically beautiful. I feel kind of bad even saying that, as it appears that I have sunk to superficial ideas of value. I appreciate the power and importance of Grand Coulee Dam. I just wish the photo ops were more satisfying. That's shallow, I know.

Anyway, a visit to Grand Coulee provided respite from a 98 degree day, as the Visitor Center was quite cooling. And then we headed south to the Yakima Valley, where we met up with friends from back east for dinner. Today, we cover a lot of ground, including Mt. Rainier, Mt. St. Helens, and the Columbia River Gorge. Looking forward to many photo ops!

Private Idaho

Listen while you read:  You better beware.

You're living in your own private Idaho
You're living in your own private Idaho
Underground like a wild potato
Don't go on the patio
Beware of the pool
Blue, bottomless pool
It leads you straight, right through the gate
That opens on the pool

You're living in your own private Idaho
You're living in your own private Idaho

Keep off the path, beware of the gate
Watch out for the signs that say "hidden driveways"
Don't let the chlorine in your eyes
Blind you to the awful surprise
That's been waiting for you at
The bottom of the bottomless, blue, blue pool

You're living in your own private Idaho
You're out of control, the rivers that roll
You fell into the water and down to Idaho
Get out of that state
Get out of the state you're in
You better beware
. . . 

~ Fred Schneider and The B-52s

Well, guess where we are? Yesterday, we headed west through Montana and entered the panhandle of Idaho. It's a brief visit in this beautiful state, just part of the route that takes us from here to there. At least it's not the "state" about which The B-52s sing! Fred Schneider chose Idaho as metaphor for a state of paranoia. Many years ago, he apologetically offered this: "Idaho is pretty mysterious to all of us. I know it's a beautiful state, but I know there's also a lot of crazy right-wingers and all that stuff." Well, Fred, there are a lot of crazy right-wingers in every state now. And likely, an increase in paranoia, too. "Private Idaho" dates back to 1980's Wild Planet. And the planet's gotten a bit wilder since then, hasn't it?

When planning this trip, I needed a stop between Yellowstone and Grand Coulee Dam. We would be crossing the panhandle of Idaho, so I looked for towns along that stretch of I-90. That's how I found the Stardust Motel in Wallace, Idaho. And what a find! As soon as we rolled into town, we were on a trolley taking us up to the Sierra Silver Mine for a charming little tour conducted by "Wonderful Wally." After that, we checked into the Stardust and then strolled downtown to look for some dinner. Too many good choices in this little town of 781 people! City Limits, the bar/restaurant for North Idaho Mountain Brewing, was perfect. Continuing our stroll, we came upon some great outdoor music at a local wine bar.

So if living in your own private Idaho means spending a warm summer evening listening to music while strolling along the streets of town, well, I could move to Idaho.

But I won't.

Mellow Yellow

Listen while you read:  Trippy video! No surprise.

I'm just mad about Saffron
Saffron's mad about me
I'm just mad about Saffron
And she's just mad about me

They call me Mellow Yellow (Quite rightly)
They call me Mellow Yellow (Quite rightly)

I'm just mad about Fourteen
Fourteen's mad about me
I'm just mad about Fourteen
And Fourteen's mad about me

They call me Mellow Yellow . . . 

Born high forever to fly
Wind velocity nil
Wanna high forever to fly
If you want, your cup I will fill

They call me Mellow Yellow . . . 

Electrical banana
Is gonna be a sudden craze
Electrical banana
Is bound to the the very next phase

They call me Mellow Yellow . . . 

~  Donovan Leitch

Okay, so what's this song doing in my road trip stash? We were in YELLOWstone yesterday! Cheesy, I know, but hey, cheese is also yellow.

My readers of a certain age know the impact this song had on us back in 1966 when it was released on the album of the same name. Donovan was hailed as "the British Dylan," and even though he never reached that stature, he goes down in music history as one of the first folk-rock artists. But part of the reason that this song also goes down in history is because of the rumor, apparently started by Country Joe McDonald, that one could get high on banana peels. Electrical bananas! Hey, we didn't have Google or Snopes to check things out, so we all bought it! The truth is that, according to Donovan, the electrical bananas were a reference to "ladies' vibrators," believe it or not!

Anyway, none of this has anything to do with Yellowstone, land of geysers and waterfalls and hot springs and grizzlies.

Driving from Big Timber to Yellowstone via the Beartooth Highway (which Charles Kuralt labeled "the most scenic road in America") was not the quickest way to get there, but it was worth the extra drive time. Since our time in Yellowstone was subsequently limited, we picked a few of the must-sees and began driving "the Loop." Artist's Point gave us a great view of the waterfalls in the canyon. Old Faithful was as old and as faithful was ever. And Mammoth Hot Springs is still the most Dr. Suessiest landscape I've ever seen. Although we did not encounter a Grizzly, there were plenty of bison and elk to entertain us. It was a long but satisfying day. It was mellow.

And yellow.

Big Sky Country

Listen while you read:  Gorgeous pictures!

Now when all this is over, over and through
And all them changes have come and passed
I wanna meet you in the Big Sky Country
Just wanna prove, mama, love can last, yeah

Like Hallelujah in the Big Sky Country
Just like forever and ever is why
Be getting' over in the Big Sky Country
Be kissing time, kissing time goodbye

God knows it's all been done
And let me tell you why
'Cause you held my number, you held my name
You held my body through the thick and thin

On a bed of roses in the Big Sky Country
Spread out to love you
Love you in your second skin
. . .

~ Chris Whitley

I don't know a lot about Chris Whitley except for this song. His genre is "country blues," and I like some of that. I like this song, which I've known for a long time. It's a pretty sexy cowboy song! "Big Sky Country" is on Whitley's early album, Living with the Law, from 1991. John Mayer did a cover of it, but I'm giving you Whitley's version, mostly because the video has some beautiful Montana pictures to accompany the song.

Yes, Montana is "Big Sky Country." This is my second trip to Montana, and if you have never been there, I can tell you that it is everything you would expect it to be. Yesterday, we drove from Ovando to Big Timber, where I got to visit a dear friend of 40 years. We share the same first name! She and I and our good friend Allyn did a couple of road trips together a few years ago. Allyn, Terry, & Terry. AT&T. On this visit, we enjoyed late afternoon cocktails, a fabulous home-cooked meal, a visit from another hometown friend, a walk downtown, two "Dirty Girl" cocktails at the Timber bar, prepared by our hostess's son, and then a lovely stroll home.

Today, Ed and I will drive down to Red Lodge and then navigate the Beartooth Highway, the road that Charles Kuralt famously labeled "the most beautiful drive in America." Talk about switchbacks! Our destination is Yellowstone. And then tomorrow, we will head west through Montana to the Idaho Panhandle. Lots of Montana to see!

Across the Great Divide

Listen while you read:  The Band

Standin' by your window in pain
A pistol in your hand
And I beg you, dear Molly, girl
Try and understand your man the best you can

Across the Great Divide
Just grab your hat and take that ride
Get yourself a bride
And bring your children down to the riverside

I had a goal in my younger days
I nearly wrote my will
But I changed my mind for the better
I'm at the still, had my fill, and I'm fit to kill

Across the Great Divide
Just grab your hat and take that ride
Get yourself a bride
And bring your children down to the riverside
. . . 

~  Robbie Robertson (The Band)

Clearly, there's a story being told in this song, but that's not why I chose it. There are many definitions of "the great divide," whether one is speaking of relationships or politics, but I chose this song in a more literal sense. We are traveling back and forth over the Continental Divide, otherwise known as the Great Divide. In Canada, we crossed the Great Divide traveling from Golden into Banff, then in Glacier National Park, we crossed back. Today, we cross it again to the east, and tomorrow, we will make our last crossing as we head back to Washington. Four crossings!

"Across the Great Divide" is on The Band's album titled, appropriately, The Band, released in 1969. I was a fan from the very beginning. The first time I saw them was at Watkins Glen in 1973 along with 599,999 other people. I saw them again twice in 1974 when they played with Bob Dylan in NYC. And, until his death in 2012, I attended several concerts at Levon Helm's barn in Woodstock NY. So, yeah, I love The Band.

The Great Divide separates water flow in North America; it's a wonder of nature. Crossing the Great Divide is better than crossing the Mason-Dixon Line or viewing all the Pedro billboards when one drives South of the Border. And I get to do it four times! Score!

As for those other kinds of divides, one thing that has become clear to me again on this journey is that, despite our differences, most of us are kind and decent human beings. We have chatted with folks in bars and restaurants, hotels and B&Bs, in Canada and the U.S., and everyone has been kind and helpful. Last night, we had a late dinner at Trixi's Antler Saloon in Ovando MT (population: 47) and happened to mention that we were looking forward to some huckleberry pie, as we'd been told back in Golden BC to look for it. While Trixi's did not have any huckleberry pie to offer, two women in the saloon who overheard our conversation had just returned from some serious huckleberry picking. One went out to her car and returned with a handful of huckleberries for us to sample. Yep, they were pretty good, and we are looking forward to some huckleberry ice cream before we leave Ovando today.

So that was sweet. So sweet, I almost forgot to mention that we spent most of the day yesterday in Waterton Park (the Canadian part) and Glacier National Park. We drove the Going-to-the-Sun Road from east to west, enjoying glaciers, waterfalls, forests, and flowers along the way.

It's a beautiful country, no matter the divide.

In Glacier National Park MT

Rock and Bird

Listen while you read:  Rock and Bird

She captured both rock and bird
Tied one to the other
Kept them as prisoners
Until they knew who was the master

Then she threw them to the sky
Bird with unbarred wings disappeared
Rock with weighted heart returned

And rock became her anchor
And bird became her dream

Now she stands on the forest floor
Among the pines and towering firs
Rock still firm beneath her feet
Bird perched high above her

Singing songs of love's betrayal
"I offered you my endless skies
You countered with hoods and chains
The song I sing will be the last
To be inspired by your memory."

~  Michael Timmins (Cowboy Junkies)

Despite the "I'm not a musician" line, the piano you hear is Bruce Hornsby. But when the piano continues to play by itself at the end, I'm wondering if that is actually Bruce Hornsby in the video? I'm confused. Anyway, I chose this live version because of the Hornsby piano. The studio version is absent that, but I love that one, too. You can find it on 1990's The Caution Horses.

Cowboy Junkies are a Canadian band, and I think they draw a certain following. I'm certainly a fan. Their genre has been listed as "alt country," whatever that is. I think it's hard to categorize their music, but one can surely say it's soulful. Margo Timmins projects her own sultry style and it seems authentic, until you realize that this is the persona she presents at every concert, and you start to wonder if it's an act. Doesn't matter either way; Margo can touch your soul.

And this song touches my soul, too. It's a sweet allegory. There is a price to pay for control and captivity of one you love. The cliches about giving your children wings bear some truth. Despite his poor grammar, Sting (a former English teacher), lectured us, "If you love somebody, set them free." When the woman in the song finally sets Rock and Bird free, she believes that they know she is the master. Bird pretty much flips her the bird and remains unattainable, revenge for his captivity. As for Rock, I guess he never really had any choice in the matter.

So aside from the fact that Cowboy Junkies are a Canadian band, there has to be another reason I selected this song, right? It's the rock. Yesterday, we visited "Big Rock," a 16,000 ton glacial erratic positioned south of Calgary in Okotoks. It's the size of a three-story house, and is the world's largest known glacial erratic. Big Rock, also known as the Okotoks Erratic, was transported from Jasper to Okotoks by glacial ice thousands of years ago. The Blackfoot considered the rock sacred. In their language, "Okotoks" means "rock."

So, yeah, yesterday, we saw a big rock.

But we also saw the Johnston Canyon waterfalls and Moraine Lake (the "Jewel of the Rockies") in Banff National Park. Breathtaking.

But this post is about a rock, so here's the rock.

Alberta

Listen while you read: Unplugged!

Alberta, Alberta, where you been so long?
Alberta, Alberta, where you been so long?
Ain't had no loving since you've been gone

Alberta, Alberta, where'd you stay last night?
Alberta, Alberta, where'd you stay last night?
Come home this morning, clothes don't fit you right

Alberta, Alberta, girl, you're on my mind
Alberta, Alberta, girl, you're on my mind
Ain't had no loving such a great long time

~  Eric Clapton

Hang on, hang on, hang on . . . Clapton is being sued? For five million dollars? Over this song? That's right. This bluesy classic appears on 1992's Unplugged, a very successful album for E.C. But apparently, instead of crediting Bo Carter for the original "Corrine, Corrina," Clapton mistakenly gave credit to Lead Belly, another blues singer. Lead Belly does have a song titled "Alberta," but it's a different song. Anyway, Carter's estate is suing. This news came out last fall; I have not been able to find an update on the status of the suit.

Yesterday, we crossed from British Columbia into the province of Alberta. I realize the song is about a woman, not a province, but hey, I love the song. And, oh, Alberta, where you been so long? Banff and Lake Louise have been on my bucket list for a very long time, and now I get to see what all the fuss is about. Sheer beauty. But how many snow-capped mountains and tall pine forests can one view before it becomes a ho-hum? Um, more than I've viewed, that's for sure.

We began yesterday with a drive through Yoho National Park on our way to Banff. First stop was Lake Louise. Was it beautiful? Yes. Were there lots of tourists? Yes. We took our obligatory pictures and then moved on. Opting for the more scenic and less-traveled Bow Valley Parkway, we headed toward Banff, pulling over at any potential viewing sites. That's how we ended up at Castle View. Now, on the map, it looked like an easy stroll to the viewpoint, despite being designated a 3.7 km distance. Hey, we can do that! What we did not realize was that it was all uphill! Two hours later, we reached the top, having scaled 1,062 feet! There we were at 6,670' elevation. We patted ourselves on the back and looked forward to the trek downhill, not realizing that it would be more punishing than the trek uphill. We're too old for this shit.

A glass of wine and an expensive dinner in our hotel's bistro was our reward for our efforts.

Today, we will try to see all the tourist traps in the area that we missed yesterday while hiking for four hours. Moraine Lake, Johnston Canyon and waterfalls, the town of Banff. One could easily spend a couple of weeks in this area and never run out of beautiful sights to see. Ah, but the road beckons. On to Okotoks.

Four Strong Winds

Listen while you read: Four Strong Winds

Think I'll go out to Alberta, weather's good there in the fall
I got some friends that I could go working for
Still I wish you'd change your mind
If I asked you one more time
But we've been through this a hundred times or more

Four strong winds that blow lonely, seven seas that run high
All those things that don't change, come what may
If the good times are all gone, and I'm bound for moving on
I'll look for you if I'm ever back this way

If I get there before the snow flies, and if things are looking good
You could meet me if I sent you down the fare
But by then it would be winter
Not too much for you to do
And those winds sure can blow cold way out there

Four strong winds . . . 

~  Ian Tyson

This song dates back to the folk music 60s. It was written by Canadian Ian Tyson and initially recorded by Ian and Sylvia, but it's been covered by many artists, most notably, Canadian Neil Young. I chose Neil's cover for this post because, well, because it's Neil. He included it on Comes a Time, the 1978 release that returned him to his Harvest roots. In 2005, Canadian radio listeners voted "Four Strong Winds" the greatest Canadian song of all time.

Sure, it's a break-up song, but that's certainly not why I chose it. Think I'll go out to Alberta. Yesterday, we spent our last day and night in British Columbia and today, we will head to Alberta, land of mountains, prairies, desert badlands, and coniferous forests. The province has 600 lakes, rich mineral deposits, and famous national parks. The Continental Divide runs through the Canadian Rockies, and the Columbia Icefields boast glaciers. My camera is ready.

Nicolette Larson sings back-up vocals on Neil's "Four Strong Winds." I would have a hard time choosing between Nicolette and Emmylou Harris as best back-up vocalist (although I think I lean towards Emmylou); the harmony is just gorgeous. Nicolette died in 1997. Emmylou is still singing with everyone in the music world.

So our drive yesterday from Kamloops to Golden was gorgeous, especially through Revelstoke and Glacier (CA) National Parks. We arrived at the Kicking Horse Resort just in time for our 1:45 reservation for lunch on top of the mountain. A gondola ride up the mountain took us to the Eagle's Eye Restaurant where we dined while overlooking the incredible peaks of the Columbia Mountain Range. The Eagle's Eye bills itself as the highest elevation dining in Canada. Despite the 91 degree heat, mountain breezes kept us cool enough to walk around the mountaintop after our lunch.

Evening found us in a local brewpub in Golden, chatting away with a young couple from Edmondton and getting lots of advice for our visit to Banff and Lake Louise today. Excited!

Runnin' Down a Dream

Listen while you read: Rather trippy video . . .

It was a beautiful day, the sun beat down
I had the radio on, I was drivin'
Trees flew by, me and Del were singin' Little Runaway
I was flyin'

Yeah, runnin' down a dream
That never would come to me
Workin' on a mystery, goin' wherever it leads
Runnin' down a dream

I felt so good, like anything was possible
I hit cruise control and rubbed my eyes
The last three days, the rain was unstoppable
It was always cold, no sunshine

Yeah, running' down a dream . . . 

I rolled on as the sky grew dark
I put the pedal down to make some time
There's something good waiting down this road
I'm pickin' up whatever's mine

~  Jeff Lynne, Mike Campbell, Tom Petty  (Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers)

Now that's a road trip song! This one dates back to 1989, on Full Moon Fever. If you like Tom Petty, and you haven't done so already, check out the 2007 Peter Bogdanovich documentary of the same name. I think you can find it on Netflix. It's damn good.

I think that Tom Petty has never gotten the acclaim he deserves. Sure, everybody likes his stuff, but it doesn't seem to me that he gets the same attention as other chart-toppers of his era. Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers were inducted into the Rock 'n Roll Hall of Fame in 2002, but still, how many people do you know who will list the band among their top five favorites? I have seen them in concert, and they put on a damn good show. And yet, if you ask me my top five? I probably won't include Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers. Go figure. (So many bands, so much pressure to choose.)

So the Canadian part of the road trip has begun. The first leg was a gorgeous drive up scenic Route 99 from Vancouver to Squamish. On the way to Whistler, we stopped at Brandywine Falls and then strolled around Whistler Village. Whistler was host to the 2010 Vancouver Winter Olympics. (We're not skiers, but then again, it's not winter.) The Village is, as you might expect, another tourist trap, but we had some tasty gelato before hitting the road again.

It was a beautiful day, the sun beat down / I had the radio on. I was drivin'. And that was all cool until we hit Historic Hat Creek Ranch on our way to Kamloops. Is that smoke or clouds over there? A road blockade gave us the answer. My research later on revealed that just today, 68 new wildfires started in British Columbia. The worst of these is in Ashcroft, 120 kilometers west of Kamloops. I think that's the one that stopped us in our tracks.

So what should have been a four hour drive from Whistler to Kamloops turned into a detour that added two and a half hours to our drive.

I rolled on as the sky grew dark
I put the pedal down to make some time
There's something good waiting down this road . . .

Yep. A bed and a cold beer.

Vancouver BC

Listen while you read: Like the Canadian Monkees?

Okay, here's a first. I could not find the lyrics for this song online. But the video kind of says it all. Here are a few of the lines that I could discern from the video:

Rah, rah, sis boom bah!
I love Vancouver, Vancouver is my hometown
(Vancouver BC, Vancouver BC)
Well, the sun don't shine
And the rain comes pouring' down
(Vancouver BC, Vancouver BC)

Oh, well, I love Grouse Mountain
I love to (???)
Or bein' dragged up a hill
Hanging on to a rope
Oh, it hasn't snowed since 1948

Oh, sky train and the ferry line
And the Robson Square . . . 

~  The Smugglers

My research suggests that The Smugglers were active up until 2004, but this song is listed as a track on a 2017 release, Dirty Windshields. I don't know, I just gave up on searching for lyrics or pertinent information on the song or the band. There are two reasons I chose these spotty lyrics (but the video's cool!) for today: I'm in Vancouver, BC, and it's my traveling companion's birthday! And he's just goofy enough to get a kick out of this song! So, Happy Birthday, Ed! I hope a birthday in Canada is everything you ever dreamed of!

Yesterday, we took another ferry (our third) from Vancouver Island to Horseshoe Bay. On our way into Vancouver proper, we made the obligatory stop at Grouse Mountain. I'd been interested in going to the top to take in some fantastic views. As it turns out, Grouse Mountain is quite the tourist trap. We took the "Skyride" almost to the top, where there were a few diversions to occupy one's time and money. In truth, the bird show was pretty awesome, especially since my Jenna was a falconer a couple of years ago, and I knew a thing or two about the training. But views that were conducive to good photos? Not so much. For that, another dip into one's wallet would get you a chairlift ride up to a wind turbine and a panoramic view. We passed.

Anyway, by 5:00, we were pretty exhausted from the day and headed to our lodging in Burnaby. Traffic snarls and delays reminded us that we were in yet another city, but once we arrived at our destination and strolled to a lovely nearby restaurant, we relaxed and began to look forward to tomorrow's journey north into the wilderness. I hope you'll follow along.

Bald Eagle with Falconer on Grouse Mountain