New Resolutions! 

On occasion, someone will ask my advice or insight on a topic they perceive I have successfully addressed in the past. Such was the case when a young fellow recently asked for my thoughts on how he might advance his career.

It is easy to take such inquiries lightly and rattle a few things off that quickly come to mind, and I have certainly done this in the past. On more than one occasion, after a few days, it occurred to me I had done the question, and the questioner, a disservice.  

If I had anything close to an epiphany in 2021, it was a realization that going forward in life, I want to work toward making things count. To appreciate and enjoy each moment, but whenever possible, be willing to put the effort into finding the best situations, and to enjoy them. In short, to try and avoid taking simple things for granted but putting the extra effort into making simple things special. 

In light of the pandemic, I have been really blessed. Like many people I have endured losing several acquaintances and a few good friends, some to Covid, some from other causes. And these losses will leave a hole in the fabric of my life and my network of friends. However, in many regards, for the most part, things have been, shall I dare say it, “mostly good”.  

I performed about as much as I wanted to in 2021, albeit mostly as a solo, but I had a pretty full dance card. And I am immensely grateful to the wineries and clubs, communities, organizations, and festival organizers that invited me to perform. I even had the opportunity to play some wonderful shows with folks I haven’t played music with in decades. Reconnecting with old friends and making music with some incredible musicians was much more than I would have ever hoped for at the beginning of 2021.  

I was also able to get my third record released and several written projects published. That being said, with the unrest and anxiety most of us have endured during the past two years, toward the end of the summer I found myself thinking more and more about making “things count”.  

We all get older, and as we age, we like to aspire to get wiser and smarter, more skillful and more competent, but inevitably, we also begin to feel the effects of time. Suddenly time becomes a commodity. There is a beautiful song by Chris Smithers called “Leave the Light On” where he shares his thoughts on enjoying the moment of each day and the process of aging. 

Maybe it’s time to leave the light on for me?  

I am always a bit flattered when someone asks for my advice or guidance and such was the case with this situation. I wanted to take the time to get my thoughts together for this young man. We picked a time and scheduled a long, unhurried call.  

In the better part of an hour, we covered a lot of ground and I found myself going back to a technique I had picked up and modified from a book by Jeri Goldstein that was written to help musicians manage their careers as a business. I call the process, Planning Backwards, and I have used this in many situations, both in my park career and in my musical endeavors. It can work for an individual, a group, or an agency, and it has a really simple premise. Where do you want to go? 

Without going into all of the details, the process involves asking a series of questions that start with: What are your dreams? And then, where do you want to be in twenty years? And if you can identify those objectives, then you should be able to deduce “If I know where I want to be in twenty years, where do I need to be in ten years?” Then applying the same approach for ten years back to five years, a set of five-year goals can be created. And by the time you resolve those questions, it is possible to develop a two and a half year set of objectives, which in the business world might be called a strategic plan, directing you how to take action this year and then next.  

Going through this process will help develop and set a collection of objectives or resolutions into a larger context. And this gives them more merit and importance.  
I think lack of context is why New Years Resolutions often fail. Everyone wants to correct something, but how does this effort fit into a bigger ongoing goal? And that is the beauty of this process of planning backward. You pick a destination and then you map the course. 

As I was talking through this technique with my friend, I was thinking of my 2021 epiphany to “make things count” and it occurred to me, I need to put this into a larger context, and think through what this means, and then develop some steps to make this happen.  
All journeys start with the first step. So here is to making 2022 a great year, one step at a time. 
See you on the Trail

SMB Just Another Night In The Books! 

SMB, Another Night In The Books: 

August 15th, I was privileged to perform at the Trolley Stop in Dayton, Ohio, with some dear friends who just happen to be excellent musicians. 

This event was sort of a spin-off from the June 27th performance. 

I got the idea to do the show in June, knowing that Fred Rice would be driving from Oklahoma to Ohio to see his family. Over the years when Fred would be in the Buckeye State, we would try to get together and play some tunes. Instead of playing in a living room, I believed we could set up in a small venue and open this up to a broader circle of friends and family.  

As this idea was developing and I was collecting ideas on how to announce this event, my friend Vance suggested staying away from using “reunion” in any promotions. And Vance was on to something.  

While both of these performances were with old friends, playing old familiar songs, in a comfortable and familiar venue, this was not about trying to re-create the past.  

Instead, both of these performances were about preparing for the future. I was hoping we could revisiting the good times we have all shared, reconnecting with the spirit of what we have enjoyed, and reaffirm these feelings as still valid and present.  

We have all gone through some very trying times in the past few years. For some reason, we have chosen to focus on negativity and engage in divisive rhetoric.  

It does not have to be that way. 

We can still gather and share some positive energy, without tribalism and animosity. 

And maybe the simple act of getting together can contribute to encouraging a foundation for hope and optimism for the future.  

That being said, getting together and playing music in public with people you haven’t seen in over 30 years was simply nuts! Don’t get me wrong, it was a blast, but it was nuts!  

We were not playing from charts or lyric sheets, and we had no rehearsals. There was a reason all of the songs we were playing we old, they were from a song list from one of the last shows we played together. I did find 9 cassette tapes and after converting them to files, distributed them to “the band” so we could listen to ourselves from decades ago. 

Of course, it helps that Bill Baldock, Michael Clutter, and Vance Wissinger are all superlative musicians, and Astrid Socrates is always comfortable and compelling on stage. And even though she hasn't performed in years, I knew she would be great.  

But holy smokes, what a trip! I know I will never do anything quite like this again. 

But, we did it and seemed to make quite a few people happy in the process, and I am sure we will perform again.  

To quote Billdock, “It’s just been a long time between gigs!"

Endless connections... 



On Sunday, August 15th, 2021 I will be playing music with a collection of people that are very dear to me.  They are remarkable in so many similar yet uniquely different ways.  

I suppose playing music can be a mechanical thing. And maybe that happens too often for some players. It is a sad thing when this is the case. I know I have fallen into a pit where I turned my emotions off and was simply there putting in my time. Maybe it was a smokey bar or some joint where ten TVs were on at once, including one behind the stage. No one cared or could care about what the band was playing.  

These are crushing moments for a musician and they squarely fit into the broad catch-all category of “paying your dues.”  

And there are so many other issues or events that share that category, a flat tire on the way to a show, a double booking or contract dispute, the incidental drunk, or the loud talker with an exceptionally shrill voice. It is a formidable list that goes on and on leaving one to wonder or question “What am I doing this for?”  

The converse to these trying times is the other musical moments that are so uplifting and wonderful they nearly can’t be described.  

There is a magical feeling of the music leaving your body, and a part of your spirit being part of the sound emanating out into space. It is a journey that is full of exuberance and emotion, with an unknown destination. 
It is easy for a young person to take these special moments for granted and not realize that they may be as ephemeral as spring wildflowers. There is no guarantee that they won’t vanish and never return. But as a person ages, they often develop a greater sense and appreciation of life and the treasures that enrich it. 

The joy that comes from making music can certainly enrich life for the performer and the listener, and to share such an experience with another person is such a special gift. 

To go on an emotional trip with a group of people creates a profoundly deep connection.   

I went through a brief period of life with a group of people when these profound musical experiences were nearly routine. I have never enjoyed a time quite like this since. 


My hometown, long-time friend, Vance Wissinger, and I have been periodically playing music together since 1970. We started with an “epic” high school band called Wissinger’s Palace Magical Band, which covered everything from Chicago to Grand Funk, Joe Cocker to CSN. Then onto a few college bands and beyond. Acoustic bands, power trio’s, horn bands, blues, and country-rock bands plus our eclectic duo performances. We have played together, gone on to individual projects, and then picked up a little further down the road. All the while we have been accumulating a huge collection of experiences and memories. As Vance used to say, years ago what once was all about drugs sex, and rock and roll, evolved to good food, good friends, and good music.   

Vance is not only a great bass player but also an incredible musician. He has played with so many other talented players and bands like The Pulse and John Kogge and the Lonesome Strangers. It is always a special treat to play with Vance and we had some great moments at the Trolley Stop.   


I was the second musical act to regularly play at the Trolley, a group called Cotton was first and Dow and Astrid were third. Cotton was a lovely sounding acoustic trio with excellent harmonies and a very approachable selection of songs. I was a bit more diverse with a few howling blues, obscure folk songs, and modified rock tunes. Cotton played Sunday afternoons and I initially played on Saturday nights and then both Friday and Saturday.  

Dow and Astrid started playing at the Trolley Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursdays and they lit the place up. They came in with an entourage of friends and musicians that Dow affectionately called the “Toe-Jammers”. Dow was a remarkable entertainer with a host of catchy, funny tunes and props to go with them. Astrid was at his immediate right, keeping time with an appropriate conga beat, singing perfect harmonies, or giving Dow a break and taking center stage. Astrid always had a comfortable presence and would occasionally grab a guitar and offer attention-grabbing renditions of some very engaging songs. Everyone loved to hear Astrids’ unique contribution to the night.  
The Trolley was a happening place, and it was a happening time in my life. I had opportunities to play at other clubs with other people. Vance and I started playing weekends with an old high school acquaintance Roy (Hawse) Calhoun, and we created a lifetime of musician stories playing three nights a week for seven months at the Trophy Club in Vandalia before the first Roy Calhoun Band fell apart.  

When Vance and I joined up with Roy, Dow and Astrid moved to Wednesday through Saturday at the Trolley. 

I continued playing at the Trolley, doing gigs on Sunday, Monday, and occasionally Tuesday evenings. It was on a relatively slow weekday night that a friend introduced me to Bill Balldock. He told me Bill was looking for opportunities to sit in with someone so he could develop his fiddle chops.  

I was always open to playing with new people and in the first measure, I could tell that while he might be a little uncertain with his fiddle playing, Bill was a fine musician. So Bill started showing up and playing with me.  

Bill had a different approach to performing, he was meticulous with his gear and was one of the first acoustic players that I worked with who was committed to getting a true acoustic sound. I several years before I realized that he was a much better guitar player than I would ever be!

Since that night when we first met, Bill has had enjoyed a rich career, performing and touring with a host of musicians. He has been living in and around Nashville where in addition to playing music, has continued to work on stringed instruments and has his own shop! He currently performs with the highly regarded Americana band, Buffalo Wabs.   


I seem to recall meeting Michael Clutter through a mutual friend, Paul North. Paul invited me to go to a picking party at the farmhouse Mike was living at the time. Mike and I immediately hit it off and we knew a bunch of the same songs. We played together at a couple of casual parties and somehow found ourselves performing together. Mike has continued to play across SW Ohio and in the Ohio River Valley.  

The Band 
I’m a little fuzzy on how Mike, Bill, and Vance started playing together, but we were playing a pick-up gig in Yellow Springs and our drummer never showed up. (I found out later he had been in an altercation with a police officer and been “detained”.) Astrid was there that night and she happened to have her congas in the car, so I asked her if she wanted to play.  

And that was the first performance of what would become the “Steve Madewell Band”.  

What happened that night was very comfortable and we sounded solid enough that it was no problem to get more gigs. However, after playing together for a few months we sounded solid enough that we collectively felt an obligation to take some time off and focus on dialing in arrangements and harmonies.  

In the winter of 1986, we took three months off from playing out and simply rehearsed.  

Between playing with the Roy Calhoun Band, and my acoustic shows, I was making some serious cash in the early 1980s' but when the first Calhoun band split up, I was scrambling for income. Fortunately was able to get a job with the Greene County Recreation and Parks Department. While the job didn't pay much, a housing option was included and we moved into a brick cottage at the Narrows Reserve in Beaver Creek. 

I had been working for the Greene County Park system and living at the Narrows for several years when we took our rehearsal break and it just so happened that an old farmhouse was being converted into a visitor center. My boss allowed us to rehearse there before the building was open to the public. 

When we came out of this focused rehearsal period we were like a new band. Our instrumentation was better, our harmonies were on and we had become dear friends.  

Our first performance after this break was at the Trolley Stop.  

There was a full house that night, which was not unusual, but the room got quiet when we started to play which was remarkable. I had played hundreds of times at the Trolley Stop and never experienced anything quite like that.  

After that first performance, I had no trouble getting us booked and we played at several clubs that spring. I was able to record a number of those shows.   

In preparing for this upcoming performance, I pulled those tapes out of storage and after 30 plus years 2 of the nine cassettes were not listenable. Of the remaining 7 four had some tape degradation or were marginal mixes, but three played pretty well and I was astounded with how we sounded.  
Leaving Dayton 

I have always cared about the environment and when I got the job with Greene County I was provided with an opportunity to nurture and grow that concern. I felt an obligation to do whatever I could do to change people’s attitudes and appreciation for nature. What started as a commitment to environmental education ultimately developed into a passion for buying and preserving open space and I was determined to leverage whatever skills I had, as best I could, for this cause. 

 This commitment propelled me on a career that I could have never imagined. While the band was poised to take off, so was my career in the conservation field. I was offered a job as the Deputy Director of the Geauga Park District in NE Ohio and this was a pretty big deal. That park system had just passed a new levy and had a great revenue stream. It was already one of the ten largest parks systems in the state and was in a growth mode. It was a huge opportunity for me, my family, and also the cause that I was committed to.  

It was something I was excited to do and something I had to do, but it was still a crushing reality. The process of sharing this news with Mike, Bill, Vance, and Astrid was mind-numbing and heart-rending. 


Our last Regular gig was at Roy Calhoun’s Saloon in Troy, and Mick Montgomery hosted a Bon Voyage show for us at Canal Street. While we had intentions of trying to remain in contact and continue to perform. Vance and Astrid came up to NE Ohio for a few shows with me, and I when down to play at with everyone a community concert with everyone. Of course, this was pre-internet and the distance proved to be too great of a barrier to overcome.  

Besides my family, these were the friends who came and helped us pack for the move. Bill even rode up to Geauga County and helped us unload.  

Bill joined a band that toured the Mid-East and ultimately moved to Nashville. Michael began performing with the Michale Colter Band, Vance played with John Kogge and developed his professional sound company and Astrid performed as a solo artist for a while. 

I was blessed with a remarkable career and have been involved with dozens of projects that many people in the conservation field would consider once-in-a-lifetime experiences. I have served as the Director of three of Ohio's largest park systems and contributed to the preservation of thousands of acres of open space and over thirty miles of river frontage. I’ve interacted with influential businessmen and powerful politicians and even so, in review the old recordings of this band I found myself wondering if I made the right decision.  

So humbled to play once again with these folks! 

Old Friends New Beginnings 

Old Friends New Beginnings  

Sunday I had the pleasure of playing music in a place I have not performed in for at least 30 years. A place where I had played perhaps 200 times, maybe more. And, I was with working with some incredibly talented people.   

Which included first and foremost my long-time friend and remarkable bass guitarist, Vance Wissinger. The first time we played together, I was in 8th grade and Vance was a sophomore in high school. And we have been making music ever since. We played in a great high school band Wissinger Palace and several college bands. We both attended Miami University in Oxford where we played music together with some very fine people and some wonderful players.   

Fred Rice and Vance were in a band called “Waterfall” along with Pete Garst, Bob Hollister, and Gary Wetzel and after the band dissipated, Fred, Vance, and I formed another Oxford group called “Imagine That” featuring Caroline Quine and Dave Young.  

I left Oxford and Imagine That in 1978 and started performing solo at the Brewery in Troy. My first performance at the Trolly Stop in Dayton was late ‘78 or early ‘79. Ultimately, Vance joined me for many gigs and we played there for the next five years or so as a duo or with other guests. Vance and I played there several times before I moved to northeast Ohio with the “Steve Madewell Band” which included Astrid Socrates, Bill Baldock, and Michael Clutter.   
I moved up to NE Ohio in the mid-80s’ and for several years Vance drove up to play with Al Bonnis and me, or Chris Otto and I, but that is a long drive for a weekend gig, and Vance’s needed to stay home to help his folks as they aged.   

Over this forty-year-plus period, whenever Fred was back around we would try and get together to play. In addition to Ohio, Fred lived in Arizona, Hawaii, and Oklahoma, where he currently lives. These get-togethers were always special.  

Fred has always sought out new people to play music with and often found some remarkable players in the process. That is how I came to be introduced to Terry Pender back at Miami. Terry, Fred, and I jammed around a few times and I remember being astounded by their talent back then.  

Fred and Terry were always talking about another stellar young player by the name of Brian Buckley and I finally got a chance to me him when I was visiting Oxford for a party.  
The first and only time that Fred, Terry, Brian, and I played together, we did two songs, Old and In The Way, and the Hobo Song. This was at a pickup jam in Oxford in the late spring of 78 or 79.   

And that was the last time that the four of us, Fred Terry Brian and I were in the same room, that is, until Sunday afternoon.   

The last time Fred was in Ohio was in 2019 and we had met at his mothers' house south of Columbus. I drove down from NE Ohio, Vance drove over from West Milton and Brian came up from Cincinnati and that was the first time I had seen Brian since that jam in Oxford.   

We had a great time playing in “mom’s” basement and decided that we would have to do it again. And then we found ourselves in a global pandemic.   

With the travel advisories associated with the pandemic, Fred had not seen his Ohio relatives and quite a while and it was a foregone conclusion when he came to see them, we would get together and play. I thought it would be cool to meet up and play in a public space, after all, we have been performing music over all these years, why not share that with people, friends, family, and whomever?   

I ran that idea past Fred, Brian, and Vance and they thought would be a lot of fun. So I had the green light to come up with a plan. As Fred began planning this year's trip from his home in Oklahoma to Ohio, I started casting about to find a venue where we could play.   

As I was looking for venues I was also trying to find a few dates that could fit into our collective schedules. Brian is often playing out in the greater Cincinnati area, Vance is a busy professional sound engineer, and I have a fairly regular gigging schedule too. Once we found a few dates, the pressure was on to secure a place to play.   

I was looking for venues around Columbus or Dayton and through nothing but coincidence, the Trolly Stop floated to the surface.   

The owners of the Trolly had found some old pictures of musicians in the basement and didn’t know who was in the photographs. They turned to Jill Witherspoon who managed the club years ago and she immediately recognized most of the performers which included Vance and me. She turned to me to see if I knew any of the others.   

These photos were taken in the early 80s’ when the Trolly Stop was having music 7 nights a week. In the late 70’s “Cotton” was playing on Sunday night, I started playing on Saturday nights and then expanded to Friday and Saturday. Within a year, Dow and Astrid began playing Monday through Thursday and the Trolly was “a buzz”.    

And ultimately, the discovery of those photos led to the conversation about the Trolly Stop becoming the host venue for the “Old Friends, New Beginnings” show and Jill shared the notion to the owners, Robin and Chris.   

I didn’t want our performance to compete with or displace any other musical acts and I didn’t want it to be a late-night gig. As it turned out, the owners thought a Sunday 2:30-5:30 afternoon show would be great.   

Brian, Fred, Vance, and I were all excited about the idea of playing together in a setting that was open to the public, and we started sharing ideas for a possible song list. On one of my trips to Dayton this spring, Brian, Vance, and I were able to get together and run through a few tunes.   

Once the general details had been worked out with the club, I shared a post on Instagram and Facebook. On a whim, Brian emailed it to Terry Pender with a “too bad you can’t make it” note. As it turned out, Terry who lives in New York was in the process of planning a trip to Ohio and was able to shuffle his schedule to make this date.   

And that was how it came to pass that Terry and I saw each other for the first time in decades.   
On Sunday, June 27th at 2:30 we started playing to a nearly full house, Brian, Fred, Terry, Vance, and I. And we played none stop for an hour and fifteen minutes, took a twenty-minute intermission, and played for another hour.    
We all had friends from high school, friends from college, work friends, social friends, family, and people who just showed up. I heard many comments on the timeless connection that seemed readily apparent between the five of us as we played. When we returned from our intermission we were joined by Gary Wetzel who had driven up from Alabama just for this show!  

It is hard to verbalize the feelings that come with an experience like this, but it did reaffirm several things. First of all, music can create an incredible and seemingly timeless bond between players. Secondly, an audience responds to the emotion of the performers, and the performers in turn are fueled by this response and this is nearly intoxicating. Yesterday was a very emotional performance! And when that emotion is joyful, the entire experience is a wonderfully uplifting event.  

Yesterday was a joyful day for a lot of people and validated why I have continued to perform music. Despite work schedules, contract issues, equipment glitches, bad venues, off nights, and tough crowds when it comes together like it all did this week, all the hard times are forgotten.  
It feels good to make people happy. 

It is good to be happy.

Growing Up 

Pedestrian Ramblings 4/4 
Growing Up 
The collective “we” tend to start asking youngsters at a very early age “What do you want to be when you grow up“? As innocent as that question is there is an implication that we need to aspire to become someone beyond where we are or do something of consequence and lasting value. 

I suppose this question continues to haunt some free-spirited folks throughout their life. 

My friend Mark Freeman and I have taken a few walks and talks around Chapin Forest recently and I starting thinking about the essence of our conversations when I saw these giant chairs outside of the ski center. We were talking about what we want to be when we grow up! 

Mark happens to be one of my favorite Ohio songwriters and we have been comparing notes about writing songs, playing, performing, and recording music. 

Just like so many other things in our lifetime, there have been many changes in the business of making music. From the glitz and glamour of the global and national recording industry, right down to the open mic nights on the local level, new technology has impacted how we play, perform, record, and listen to music. And this will continue to evolve. Mark and I have been talking about how to set a course to follow and how to navigate to where we would like to take our music. 

Neither of us is spring chickens and often find ourselves in a quandary about certain elements of the music business. In our conversations, we consistently avoid the question: “Why are we writing songs and playing music?” I could just imagine some adult from my past overhearing our conversations and saying: “You two just need to grow up!” 

Neither of us has delusions of becoming rich playing and singing our songs, or even paying our bills with the dough we are raking in! That being said getting paid to play is certainly an important affirmation for years of practice and the effort we have invested to refine our craft and performance skills. 

Between the two of us, Mark and I know many musicians. There are very few who make a living playing music. Those that do, work very hard and often have multiple projects and music-related income streams. That number dwindles dramatically when filtered by those writing and performing original music. 

There is a significant challenge in creating songs that are both musically appealing strong and lyrically strong enough to engage and entertain people. This is not a small task. 

Oh of course with an original tune there is the tiny possibility of someone picking up a song for a prominent musician to record, but those are pretty slim odds. And there is the potential for income from digital streaming. After all, if a song gets played 229 times on Spotify the artist gets one dollar, so if your song gets streamed 200,000 you get about 850 bucks! Just sayin’... 

With the advances in technology, it is possible to make an acceptable recording in a home studio, so recording has gotten much more accessible and affordable! But there are still significant start-up costs associated with good microphones, a powerful computer, and associated editing and recording software. And the learning curve for the software and recording techniques requires a substantial amount of time. 

At the end of the day it still costs about four dollars a unit to “commercially” burn and package a small batch of CDs, and with the explosion of internet streaming, no one is sure if there is a viable market for CDs. Some agents say "CD are like business cards, you have to have them." That is a pretty expensive business card! 

When you start doing the math, you want to stop doing the math! 

So why do we work so hard at these things that don’t fit into a financially productive model? 
Is there more to it? 

Maybe we just don’t want to grow up, and is there a reward for not “growing up”? 

Yes, there is. It comes down to the balance of pursuing and eventually sharing a personal expression, connecting with and enriching the lives of other people, and the recognition that this has value. 

On a personal level, there is an indescribable, magical feeling that occurs with the process of finding and arranging the words, that turn an idea into a story, that can somehow be embedded in a melody. When this comes together it's a wonderful experience. And when someone tells you how much a song means to them or how they felt when they first heard it, there is a humbling realization that this is something that is bigger than an individual experience and has to be shared! 

Often we are condition to measure success in financial returns, but what a stark world it would be if that matrix was our only driver! How many elements of our lives are enriched by doing things that have limited or negative financial returns? How much joy do these efforts produce for ourselves and others? 

This phenomenon isn’t limited to musicians but to all artisans and crafters who work hard at what they do. We make things for the joy of self-expression and we share or give these things to enrich the lives of others. 

So maybe, I just don't want to grow up, and I hope you don't either. 

Should you want to check mark out: 

See you out ramblin' around

Pop A Relative Perspective 

The late fall and winter months have always been a very reflective period for me, and 2020 has provided a great deal to reflect on! A global pandemic, a record turn-out for a very contentious presidential election and the ongoing shifts and changes of life, and of course, the changing world around us.  
Such is the transient nature of things.  

It’s been nearly a year since my father passed on. He had just turned 95 and by all accounts, lived a remarkable life.  
Thinking about him and the issues his generation faced has provided me with a helpful perspective on what we are currently dealing with. We are so fortunate to live in a country where the quality of life is high with relative prosperity. It is easy to lose sight of our blessings in these trying times. I am not making light of the devastating impacts of this pandemic, nor am I diminishing the hardships that so many people are suffering. But I can recall my pop occasionally saying, “Things could be a lot worse!” And he was speaking from experience.   

He grew up facing what many would find to be un-imaginable challenges. My grandfather Kelly Madewell died at the onset of the great depression of dust-induced pneumonia. Kelly had sold his share of Madewell Hollow in Tennessee. He auctioned off all of his livestock and farm equipment, bought a new car and a new truck, and headed west with his family. He was enticed by word of opportunities in both the oil fields and expanding grain production in Oklahoma and Kansas. The migration stopped in Elk Heart, Kansas after his oldest son, my uncle Roosevelt, was offered a job working at a grain elevator. My grandfather bought a threshing machine and planned to combine grain by contract.  

He used the thresher just one season. That happened to be the year of the big plow up. Ken Burns' documentary The Dust Bowl does a remarkable job telling this story. There was so much grain produced that year, that once silos were filled, it was simply dumped in the streets.   

Kelly died after getting caught in a minor dust storm and my grandmother returned to Tennessee with her youngest child and her husband's body. Her remaining children joined her a few months later. Grandma rented a house located at the mouth of the “Madewell Holler” for her and her youngest children.  

I recall my uncle telling me the thrashing machine was left sitting in a field. 


Dad was six when his father died, and he lived through some very difficult times. His older brothers and sisters helped the family working for wages, but as a youngster, his contribution to the family’s well being was often made through hunting small game and fishing. My grandmother would say Clarence could catch a fish in a mud puddle.  

When he was twelve a college professor from Tennessee Tech asked dad to take him squirrel hunting. The man paid him for his “guide” services with five Remington Express shotgun shells. Dad used those shells to hunt rabbits or squirrels using his fathers' broken single-shot shotgun. It fell apart whenever it was fired.  

He left school after the sixth grade and took his first paying job working with a man to cut dogwood, I presume for making heddles for the textile industry. He told me he was paid fifty cents a day. Later that same year, he moved to Michigan after a family acquaintance arranged for him to take a job working on a dairy farm with a large orchard. At thirteen he was living several hundred miles away from his family. 

The amazing saga continued with dad moving from Michigan to Dayton, then back to Tennessee. He joined the Army Air Corps at 18 and served in the China Burma India Theater of WWII. I didn’t know much about that part of WWII until I was in my late thirties. After reading just a few books my admiration of my father changed significantly. It is often referred to as the forgotten chapter of the Second World War. The warfare was brutal and the   
conditions were abysmal.  

In the jungles of Burma, he contracted Malaria and was assigned to “light duty”. During this “downtime” he got the idea to try and catch some fish by dynamiting the Irrawaddy River. Somehow he and a buddy secured some TNT and detonated it in the middle of the river. He said they were amazed at the resulting number of fish floating on the water. They tried to gather them all, but there were just too many. They built and a raft out of fifty-five-gallon fuel drums and used that to collect and tote the fish onto the shore. They harvested enough to have a fish fry for the entire company.  

The commanding officer was so impressed with the fresh fish that he wanted to know where it came from. He tracked dad down and asked him what else he could do for the company? Pop wound up getting clearance to hunt local deer for the mess hall and he killed two tigers for a couple of his superior officers.  

After the war, he married my mother who was sixteen and they enjoyed 73 years as husband and wife and created, enjoyed, and endured many remarkable chapters in their lifetime. Some of those stories may appear at a later time.  

On their last evening together, Pop fixed her dinner, kissed her good night, and told mom he loved her. He died in his sleep. At 95, he had a good life. And considering the challenges of his early years, he earned a peaceful exit from this world. 

He shared many of these wonderfully exotic stories with me on the many overnight deer hunting trips we shared. I never recall him saying anything about feeling hopeless. Nor do I never recall him being bitter or resentful about conditions or situations he experienced. He overcame many significant obstacles and challenges with a remarkable work ethic and a great sense of humor. He was generally optimistic and would occasionally say, "well things could be worst"! 

He learned early in his life that a person can do all that they can do in the situation that they are in and still choose to have happiness in the moment and faith in the coming day. I was so fortunate to have an active, lucid father for 63 years.  

Very few people are as lucky.  

It has been a year since his passing, and what a year it has been. Taking in all of the challenges of 2020, I think about what my father lived through. We can, and we will get through these trying times.  

When I think about the experiences and challenges that he faced and the life that he lived, he could have been broken and defeated at many points along the way, but he persevered. 
If there is any lesson from this year perhaps it is to not take anything for granted. Things do and will change.  

And if there was a lesson I could share from my fathers' life, it might be to take time to care for and enjoy the good things, fix or discard those things that are broken, but never give up or despair. 

There is a great deal to be said for living in the moment, but perhaps a more profound bit of advice would be to embrace and enjoy every moment.

Finding Motivation In The Time Of Covid  

Interesting Times 

October 25, 2020

We are living in an ancient eastern proverb, “May you live interesting times”. To say these are interesting times is perhaps an optimistic way to summarize the current time here on planet earth.  From nearly any perspective, everything seems chaotic. What are our societal norms? Is there any single unifying cause in our country, or on the planet today? I’m failing to see it if there is. 

One might think that preserving the function of the natural systems essential for life as we know it would be something people could all get behind, but science is messy and there seems to be little tolerance for anything short of an “absolute truth”. Unfortunately, complex systems with evolving conditions don’t lend themselves to being summed into simple factual statements, so good science is jumbled with bad, or taken out of context and discredited. 

We could also consider the noble cause of helping those among us who are less fortunate as an effort we could all support. People with real physical and mental health issues. This seems like a simple, straightforward enough idea.  Helping people who, through no fault of their own, inherited genetic conditions or were born into situations that denied them adequate nourishment or a healthy living environment when they were growing up.  Conditions that may have resulted in physical or mental need, but somehow the notion of working together to achieve adequate health care for all people has been portrayed as “socialism or an un-necessary entitlement”. 

Or maybe resolving the widespread issue of poverty could be a unifying goal. Certainly, the notion of eliminating or minimizing the horrible effects of poverty could be a universal cause that those of us who have been blessed with relative prosperity could embrace? But conditions of poverty are often twisted and associated with “low productivity or laziness or any number of generic labels” toward a collection of individuals who all happen to be living in the same geographic area or maybe are of a different culture. 

Unfortunately, I can’t think of a single unifying cause pulling us together as one. Every issue has been politicized. Scientists who have devoted their life work toward measuring and studying natural systems and who are increasingly concerned with indicators and trends that the human race may be heading for some very challenging times are often portrayed as extreme alarmist. Their concerns are sometimes portrayed as an effort to interfere or with or stop economic growth. The health care system in our country is so overwhelmingly complicated that it feels like every individual needs to have a healthcare advocate to navigate through the bureaucracy of insurance and service fees. Environmental, racial or cultural justice is perceived or portrayed as a threat to take wealth and prosperity away from those who have to randomly give to those who have not, as opposed to an effort to invest in people who may simply not have the resources to make a contribution to better themselves or their community. 

These social tensions are not new, and by no way are these three examples of our challenges comprehensive, but from my perspective, it certainly feels like social tensions have escalated over the last few decades. And then along comes Covid 19. 

Humanity has seen similar crises before. The Year without Summer in 1815 occurred after half a dozen volcanoes erupted over the course of a few years which resulted in widespread famine and starvation. The average global temperature only dropped a degree or two, but this subtle change was enough to trigger serious disruptions in the growing seasons and local weather conditions. Both had dire consequences on humanity. And of course, going further back a few centuries we had the Bubonic Plague. This killed an estimated 50 million people, which by the way happens to be about the same death toll of the flu pandemic of 1918. 

So we could slightly modify and collectively quote Bernie Taupin’s lines from the famous Elton John song, I’ve (we’ve) Seen That Movie Too. 

I’m sure during these past trials and tribulations there were people haranguing their brothers and sisters, and those taking advantage of dire situations for personal gain, and others intentionally or unintentionally spreading bad information. I guess we can classify this behavior as human nature. But somehow, in the midst of these challenging times, people who faced tremendous adversity and suffered extreme loss survived. It had to be horrific during the period of 1815-16 when crops failed with snow and frost during the summer months. It is hard to imagine widespread starvation. Or during the plague when there were no media outlets to offer suggestions or even hope on how to avoid getting sick. Children even danced and sang a little song about the inevitability of dying. Ring around the rosey… 

We are in a much better place today to deal with the challenges of Covid. For better or worse we have the capability for multidimensional communication, internet and transportation options, global food distribution networks, and advanced medical systems offering treatment and hope, and yet the situation we are dealing with feels so emotionally fatiguing and demotivating. 

There are many days all I feel compelled to do is go from one obvious simple or straightforward task to the next. Or I may call an older friend just to check in with them making an assumption that they might like the conversation and this might add joy to their day. And while these activities are all right, I suspect like many people, I need to feel like I am working to improve a future condition or contributing to a bigger project. With the weight of so much uncertainty, and so much societal tension this simple objective is difficult to attain. 

I am so fortunate and blessed to live in a place where I can walk outside, or simply look out a window and be struck with the beauty of what I behold. I can also be distracted with any one of the dozens and dozens of uncompleted projects around the house. I can putter about until I want to move on to another distraction or keep at it until I get a sense of simple accomplishment. I could journal about such a day to day existence and create a sense of a bigger totality, ie the pieces/parts of my life adding up to a bigger sum, but that would be a very insular perspective and I have always needed an element of external engagement. So I digress from societal tension to personal tension. 

As I look around, or rather, I cruise around social media outlets and the internet I see some remarkable folks, some are friends, others I don’t know or maybe never met, who are marching right along with their lives, continuing to work toward making the wheels of commerce spin, providing services or creating and sharing art and just being engaged. And their actions are indeed motivational. But over the past few weeks, I have found great motivation from personal interactions. Several people have asked me: “When will your new recording be done or if they are still on my mailing list, or if I have stopped doing email updates? Folks who have asked me to make sure I let them know when I will be doing another Live Stream?” These simple inquires mean so much to me as they impart a value to the esoteric or abstract things I do. Writing and singing songs is pretty abstract. 

Being perfectly honest, if I come up with a solid lyrical phrase or unique musical twist, it does bring about a certain personal joy, but it is nothing like the reward that comes from providing or stimulating an emotion in others. That is a remarkable experience. It is such a profound thing that I have on occasion felt like nothing I have ever done had been more significant than turning a person's day around or helping them through a challenge just by sharing a song. I simply can’t describe how profound that feels. But it is such an ephemeral experience and for performers, that experience has been eliminated or drastically modified. 

I believe the desire to give is as strong as the desire to take and there is a return on the choice of our actions. We are collectively at a time when the need to give maybe much more important than the need to take. Let me express my gratitude to those of you who have helped me re-affirm this truth and reminding me that what I try to give does indeed have value beyond any joy I may have in the making of stories or songs. Your support is uplifting and motivating encouraging me to offer my simple efforts to those who might enjoy them.

Thank You

My Aim Is True 

AM Picture

My Aim Is True

Funny how the recollection of a song can trigger so many memories and emotions!

So for some reason, as I was padding out to the freezer this morning to get some bread, I found myself singing the beautiful Elvis Costello song, “My Aim Is True”. In addition to immersing myself in the lovely melody and the haunting storyline, I began to stroll down a wonderful path of emotional recollection. There are many songs on that album that are simply great and after I exhausted my lyrical recall for the title song, I moved on to “Watching The Detectives” and then to “All the Angels Want To Wear My Red Shoes”.

I remember playing that song one night with the Rory Calhoun Band at a happening kinda place north of Dayton called McNasty’s. A dear friend came strolling in wearing red shoes! McNasty’s was a big party barn and the RCB was a big party band. That sort of coincidence is certainly enough to cement a feeling of cosmic connection!

Rory just loved to sing the rowdy rocker “Mystery Dance’ off of that recording too.

It's a wonderful album that still holds up well! If you aren't familiar with it, this is a classic recording:

My Aim Is True

As I continued the process of making breakfast, I began to reminisce about where I was geographically and in my life when I first heard the song “My Aim Is True” and that amazing album. MJ and I were living in Oxford and I had just started working at a Horizon Records. This was the first job I ever had that just “wasn’t the right fit”. I’m sure the owners wanted someone with an effervescent personality as opposed to a brooding philosophical folk rocker, and I lasted one, maybe two weeks. Yep, I was "let go", fired from a record store! But as I was leaving, I took advantage of my employee discount and bought a couple of records. I got EC’s Slow Hand and was torn between this new Elvis Costello recording or the Pete Townsend/Ronnie Land album “Rough Mix”. I took Elvis home.         

Music is emotion

My old friend Cincinnati Slim, says “The Blues Is the Truth” as it is a genre of music that has transcended many cultures and is used to celebrate all elements of the human condition. Slim is great BTW and do yourself a favor and check him out! He is the real deal... He is such a great player that I wouldn't get on stage with him when he was playing with the Head Hunters. I didn't believe I could add anything to what they were doing. And Slim is right and blues are a basic expression of true emotion.  


But there are other forms of music that are true too. A few weeks ago another friend dear friend Wes Wertz shared that years ago how when his daughter Lauren was little she called classical music, “Picture Music” because even though it had no words, it created images in her mind. How beautiful!

This morning for some reason, I enjoyed a little spontaneous outburst of a song I first heard over forty years ago and found myself floating down an emotional stream full of beautiful recollections. Music has a magical ability to trigger those emotional reactions and recollections and these experiences certainly enrich my life.

Last night I did a formal presentation on one facet of conservation efforts in Ohio. I was invited to sing a song or two at the end of the program and I played “Wound Too Tight”. I introduced the song in the context of the importance of nature and out of door experiences in reducing stress. I followed that with “Rivers and Trails” offering the observation that the way to overcome the emotional fatigue many outdoor and nature enthusiasts suffer due to the endless onslaught of environmental degradation is to celebrate the collective efforts and successes of those working locally, regionally, nationally and across the planet to make the world a better place. 

The music made the program so much better. The audience immediately became more interactive and engaged. As I was packing up a lady came to me and want to tell me how my songs resonated with her. She shared how her spouse had left her a few years ago and told me that she turned to and embraced nature. Every day regardless of weather or schedule, she went on a walk in the local Metropark and this helped her with her emotional recovery. It was so sweet of her to share that and encourage me to continue to do what I do. 

I have been remarkably blessed that both nature and music have been significant factors in my life and I find myself in the unique position of being able to promote the attributes of both. I suppose it is something I need to keep doing. 

This week I will be performing at four showcases at the Folk Alliance Midwest Region conference in Grand Rapids this week. I can only hope that "my aim is true" with song selection and performance.           

The Art of Nature 

In 1976 I had a summer job at Brukner Nature Center outside of Troy, Ohio. I was hired to supervise, babysit if you will, the children of Hispanic migrant workers. The nature center had received a grant to provide childcare for these kids while their parents picked fruit and vegetables. It was my understanding the existing staff really didn't want to deal with the additional workload and there was a scramble to get someone to specifically deal with these kids. So the nature center asked and received enough additional money to hire someone for the summer. My high school friend, Annette Miller's sister Lynn, was administering the grant program and told Annette about the position, and Annette told me about it. I got what proved to be a life-altering job.

There was an educator I think his name was Doug Saul, who worked there who had set up a training program for a group of volunteers. He gave me one of the packets he had assembled for them. He called it his "instant naturalist" file. It was loaded with a collection of brochures and publications from the Ohio Department of Natural Resources like Birds of Ohio, Bushes and Shrubs of Ohio, a collection of basic information on local natural resources.  

I had a deep interest in alternative approaches to education because I had become very disenfranchised from the educational process in high school. I absorbed this information and decided I would try to educate these children about what was at the nature center and why it was important. This was a noble cause and I was young and very motivated to make a difference, incredibly naive and basically unflappable.   

I vaguely recall the first day that the two school buses lumbered around the curve in the drive, stopped in front of the nature center and offloaded a good-sized herd of children. I soon discovered that many didn't speak English. Fortunately, a boy that seemed to be 9 or 10  years old started translating whatever I said for the group, and it was off to the races.

I had a great time that summer and changed my educational focus when I returned to college that fall. This proved to be my first job in the conservation field. And I had by many people's standards, a remarkable career, working for four Ohio park districts. I was the director of three of those systems! 

I was extremely honored to be the featured artist for 2019 at Brukner's annual "The Art of Nature" fund-raising event.

The Executive Director, Deb Oexmann, asked if I could talk about what inspired me and inspired my songwriting. It seemed to me that I should bring some representation of some of the park developments that were the result of my involvement, or that had I played some sort of significant role in. I assembled a half a dozen 8x10 photo collages of these projects and mounted them on foam-core to sit out during the mix and mingle period. Below is one representing Howard Marsh. My contribution to the project was the insistence that we include trails and other amenities enhancing year around public access.

I thought these photos would be good conversation starters.

An old friend and remarkable photographer, Marlon Carr had recently built a Youtube video around my song, Rivers and Trials and I asked Marlon if he would like to show this while I was performing. And he agreed! 

What I lovely way to say thank you to a place that provided what proved to be a life-altering experience.     

 Howard Marsh Collage


Don't Try and Knock Off A Bank In Coffeyville 

Coffeyville Community College Humanities Project
Fall 2019
During the process of self-evaluation I decided this year I would get involved with more professional music organizations, so this spring I joined Folk Alliance. This is an international organization and I attended one of their conferences several years ago. It was held in Cleveland and was a great experience and this seemed like a good organization to plug into. The Midwest region of the Folk Alliance is called FARM and they have an annual conference in October so I signed up. In short order, I started getting notices about performing at showcases at the conference, internet radio programs looking for new folk material and other opportunities. One notice caught her my eye, a call for proposals from Artists of Note to perform for the Coffeyville Community College Humanities Project. Over the years I had heard about this and know a few folks who have performed there. I responded to the email and requested additional information. The program has been going on for a number of years and is a really interesting idea. Coffeyville is a fairly rural community and this program provides an opportunity to a couple of dozen artists to perform for the college, and while they have you in town, to do another dozen shows or so for several community centers, assisted living facilities and the local high school.
I thought this was a beautiful program idea and put together a proposal for a musical program based around nature, the identity of place and community. Joann from Artists of Note immediately got back to me and we started discussing the time slots and my availability. While Joann was evaluating my bio, she discovered that I was a fly fisher and asked if I could incorporate fly fishing into the program? I told her that the Rivers and Trails CD was predominantly about fly fishing and I certainly could do that, but due to my existing commitments, I could only perform the second week of September. And if we were to put something together, I would have to leave early Sunday and drive all day to get there in time for the first performance. Long story short, within a few days I received a nice packet of information in the mail, including a contract, and I started working on a presentation.
Madewell Music and The Dive Kings played at the Ridgewood Tavern in Concord on Sept 7th and at 6:30 AM on the 8th I started off on what would prove to be a pretty uneventful drive. Google maps indicated that it would be a 14 hour ride so allowing for the change in time zones I figured I could get there around 7:30 in the evening. I hit very little construction and had pretty light traffic for the entire trip. I cruised into the Regal Inn right at 7:30!
The hotel was an independent, privately-owned business that was one of the suggested housing options listed in the information I had received earlier. When I called for a reservation, the man on the phone told me, he would have a room for me whenever I arrived, that he was the owner and he lived there. I asked him if he needed a credit card number for the reservation and he said, “No you have a room reserved sir.” And I thought, “Something to be said for small towns”. He was just as pleasant in person and asked if I was a musician. He said many of the artists stay there and he had a ground floor room with an extra-large parking spot so I could easily haul instruments and equipment! He was also very proud to tell me that there were sticky buns and coffee available every morning until 9:00. 
Joann had done a pretty good job explaining that some of the audiences would be small and judging from the names on the performance roster I had an idea what the facilities would be like. I had also emailed my old friend Andy Cohen, who has played Coffeyville several times requesting information about the program. Andy was very supportive and offered a number of helpful suggestions. I put together a program that I felt would allow me to talk about the stress of everyday life and how spending time outside could mitigate anxiety, how we all spend too much time staring at screens and how kids don’t play in the out of doors. I folded some information published by the Harvard Medical Association on the meditative effects of fly fishing. 
My first performance was at the Coffeyville Meal Site and I had about 18-20 folks. They were attentive, interactive and enjoyable to play for. I would say they were all over 50 with a half a dozen ladies in the group. I had worked up a setlist which started with “Wound Too Tight” which provided a platform to talk between songs about the challenges of everyday life, and how being outdoors could help mitigate some of those challenges. I slipped in Taj Mahal’s “Fishin Blues” and talked about going fishing with my dad as a youngster, how I got involved with fly fishing and how that is an activity I still pursue. I had brought some gear including a short fly rod, and took a short break in the middle of the set to go over the what makes fly fishing different from other types of fishing and did a simple casting demonstration. The set continued with a half dozen additional songs tying history. After I finished, the ladies in charge of the operation invited me to have lunch with everyone, which I did,  and I was feeling pretty good about the first performance. One down 13 to go.
With a few hours to kill, no pun intended, and you’ll see why in a few more lines, I thought I should check out the Dalton Museum. After all, as I found out from trying to get to know a little something about Coffeyville, it is famous as the town where the Dalton gang got shot up. I had noticed when I pulled in to the Meal Site that I drove right by the museum. So I pitched my stuff in the car and walked over to check it out. So many times I have found small museums like this have very limited hours so I was happy, and a bit surprised to find that it was open! The door opened into a foyer of sorts, with a large diorama of a late 1800’s “western cowtown”  city street. The entrance door was another few feet further down a wooden boardwalk. I was immediately greeted as I walked through the door, by an enthusiastic although apologetic lady, who told me I was welcome to come in, unfortunately, most of the exhibits were packed up. They were in the process of moving to another building across the street. We had a pleasant chat as I strolled along with a long glass case filled with commemorative Colt revolvers. All were beautiful guns, named after western figures or events, with pearl, ivory or engraved handles. Somewhere stainless steel and others were deeply blued or nickel silver. She said all of the Dolton’s guns were put away pending the move and she didn’t mind because it saved her the trouble of getting them out and locking them back up every day. She said I might like to watch a very good video that lasted about 45 minutes that she was just getting ready to start. She was right, it was informative and very well done. It was produced by, or for the History Channel. The video was one of those dramatic recreations with the cut-a-ways to a collection of historical scholars, who added narrative based on their research and understanding of the time or event.  It’s a great western story that touches on the conversion of a cattle town to a farm community, the conflict between lawmen and outlaws, and some town folk coming together in a time of crisis. Evidently Bob Dalton had come up with a plan to simultaneously knock off two banks that were right across the street from each other. The execution was complicated due to road construction. The hitching post downtown was temporarily out of service forcing the Daltons to tie their horses up in an alley a hundred yards or so further away from the banks. Long story short, in spite of their fake beards, the Daltons were recognized by one of the shop owners and he alerted several other people in town. The owner of the local hardware store started passing out guns and ammunition and when the outlaws tried to make their getaway, there were several armed men waiting for them. There was a 12-minute shootout resulting in four townspeople getting killed as well as four of the five bank robbers. 
After watching the video, I walked outside to check out the scene of the crime. One of the banks, the alley, and the hardware store are still there. The Chamber of commerce is currently located in the remaining bank and Hisham’s Hardware is part of the True Value franchise. I have a thing for old hardware stores and decided I had to stop in Hisham’s. I mentioned to the two clerks that I just left the museum and the fellow started talking about how some people wanted to talk away our history, clearly talking about the controversy surrounding the confederate statues. I wasn’t about to engage in that conversation but I thought it was more than a little ironic that there is a very nice bronze plague where each of the townsmen died, and a blue “chalk” body outline where each of the outlaws fell.
I had two more performances scheduled for the afternoon, one at a very nice apartment complex and the other at an assisted living facility.  I took the time to drive around town and get to know my way around town, including checking out some of the other performance locations. There was the downtown historic district, a number of renovated as well as closed storefronts, the community college campus, a couple of strip developments, the box store shopping complex right outside of town, a couple historical agricultural and manufacturing business centers, and the refinery. The commercial strip reminded me of the James McMurtry song, “I’m Not From Here”. The community college and the legacy of the shoot out are the things that make Coffeyville unique. And it also seemed to me that Coffeyville has quite a few churches and quite a few liquor stores!
The remaining performances were very pleasant, and I had a wonderful conversation with a woman who used to fly fish with her husband in South Dakota. The last presentation of the day was done at 4:00 so I intended to explore the countryside. I told one of the fellows in my last audience I want to do, and he said “Well, if you don’t get around to it, you won’t be missing much. Lotta farmland out there.” Which of course I already knew. The landscape actually reminded me of southwestern Ohio when I was a kid. Some rolling hills, and in addition to the row crops, there was a lot of hay and pasture land, only the fields were bigger and there were prairie relics alongside the roads. Tom Paxton wrote a song about the Verdigris River which flows by Coffeyville, or should I say, the town was built alongside the Verdigris. There are large flood control dikes alongside the river and consequently, the down-cutting of the waterway is very noticeable. Even so, the community has experienced several serious floods in the past15 years. I thought about going fishing but opted not to. The thoughts of navigating down the dike and the hassle of getting a license were enough of a deterrent. In retrospect, I can see it is those small barriers that contribute to the decline of hunting and fishing licenses.   
Tuesday morning was the performance in the college theater. I have spent considerable time thinking about crafting a message to encourage people to get out of doors and how to incorporate that into my performance. I realized that one challenge I needed to overcome was that some of the older folks weren’t able to get out of doors, so I had developed an idea to modify my delivery for the senior programs to talk about their childhood experiences as compared to the way their grandkids are growing up. After doing three on Monday this seemed to be working! The college presentation was going to be full-on: get outside, find a life long outdoor activity, this is important to help you cope with the stress of day to day living and fly fishing is a great activity to help you do both. And with a little modification, this was the same message I would have for the high school students. So I was anxious to try this out! 
In addition to students from the theater and humanities programs, there were quite a few folks that weren't affiliated with the college. I arrived 45 minutes before showtime to get a soundcheck and everything dialed in. I walked into the theater and introduced myself to Ginni Phillips,  the Humanities Project Coordinator and Ryan Mahanah, the Director of the Theater Department. I was immediately asked if I played fantasy football!  And there was a healthy conversation going on about the blowout between the Titans and the Browns! Was I a Pat’s Fan, Did I buy into the Browns hype... Evidently Coffeyville is far enough away from any major sports teams that people feel free to align themselves to teams of their choosing! And later in the week, I came across a shrine to the Pittsburg Steelers. What can you say? Football in America!
I was excited to talk with Ginni and very interested in finding out more about the structure of the program how it was funded and who’s idea it was.  She told me she had only been in this position for a few years and really didn’t have much history to share, and that Joann from Artist of Note would probably know more about how the series is funded and when it started. It is a great idea and could be a wonderful program for other communities to emulate.
It is a nice theater and Ryan was very accommodating in spite of having a cast on his foot. He set me up with a guitar mic and a headset so I could walk around during my fly casting demo. Just as an aside, whenever I do a show wearing a  headset mic, I am a nervous wreck about what might come out of my mouth! People who know me, know I have the tendency to mutter all sorts of colorful statements under my breath, and of course, with a headset, it is all out there! I don’t think I embarrassed myself this time and had a comfortable performance for 60-80 people! I packed up and headed off to performances, 5, 6 & 7.  
The next two performances were for senior centers and the final one was a facility that I assume was for early Alzheimer’s or dementia patients, but I am not sure. At this point wanted to make every effort to make some connection with these folks and I started to modify my setlist and slip an occasional cover or traditional song in there that hopefully, the residence would recognize. It worked wonderfully. I mean as much as it is such a major reward to touch someone with an original song, the objective for a performance like this is to bring a little joy into someone’s life.  By the time I was done, I was indeed done. I felt like I had driven 14 hours and played 7 shows in three days!
I haven’t spent that much time in Kansas, but it seems that the majority of the time that I have been there it has been hot. And this trip was no exception. Every day, the sky was bright blue and the sunshine was relentless. I was a little surprised with the lush the vegetation but after a few conversations I was told this has been a wet year for SE Kansas, and folks were complaining about humidity and allergies. I had never been in this part of Kansas before, but have a bit of a familial tie to the area. Following the Kansas Oklahoma border due west, in the southwest corner of the state is a little town, Elkhart. That is where my grandfather had moved his family right before the dust bowl began. He sold his interest in the family farm in Tennessee and moved out to the Oklahoma/Kansas border. He bought a threshing machine and intended to do contract combining. Ken Burns’ documentary drama “The Dust Bowl”, tells the history of the “big plow up”. My grandfather used his machine one year and there was so much surplus grain there was no market nor storage. He contracted dust induced pneumonia the next year and died. My grandmother came back to Tennessee with nothing. Her older children went to work, my father who was 6 fished and hunted for food, and this segued into how I was brought up fishing. I shared my connection to Kansas with a few of my audiences and that elicited a few greats stories in return. 
There were three performances scheduled for Wednesday, two at apartment complexes and one assisted living facility which was for small audiences. I was having lovely conversations at each stop, one lady told me about her and her husband traveling the country in an Airstream and how her daughter is still using it. Some of them were singing along with the occasional cover song, and they all seemed to enjoy my short fly casting demo. By this time I had a pretty good delivery worked out but tomorrow I would be delivering five performances for high school students.
The Caney Valley High School is about 20 miles west of Coffeyville. I drove out Wednesday afternoon so I would know where the school was and how long it would take me. My first class was at 8:05 in the morning. On the way back into town I passed a small roadside shop selling produce and pastry. MJ had given me a specific request to pick up a watermelon if I could. Sure enough, I saw a pile of melons on a wagon under an umbrella so I slammed on the brakes, backed up and pulled in. There was a man sitting at a desk inside the small building. He had a headset on and was sitting behind a computer screen with various views outside and inside his stand. I asked him if the melons were any good and he told me they were the best melons in the nation. He drove all the way to Missouri to get them from the Mennonites this year because for some reason the local Amish didn’t plant them. They were large, stripe-less, dark green, seedless watermelons. He went on to tell me that they were so sweet that they would shock a diabetic. One of his friends told him she couldn’t eat them or she would have a reaction and that one of his neighbors had to go to the hospital after eating one of those melons. I told him a trucker once told me after an all-night party that watermelons were hangover medicine. Simple sugar, water, electrolytes and enough fiber to keep from sloshing around in your stomach. He said he never heard that but it was good to know. He had given up drinking because he couldn’t stand the way he felt the day after and would have to remember that just encase some attractive lady should happen to proposition him as that was about the only way he would ever get drunk again. And he added at his age, that was a highly unlikely proposition. 
I  asked how much and he said $11. I told him I would take one, and he said I had just made my first mistake of the day. He went on to tell me that people do it all the time with tomatoes. They get home and after the last bite is gone they realize they should have bought more. So I asked if he would take $20 for two and he answered he would do that all day long. So I went out to pick out two, under surveillance I might add, and when I picked up the first one I darn near jumped out of my shoes when a cat hissed at me. It was laying behind the stack of melons and wasn’t at all pleased that I was disrupting its afternoon siesta. It was a memorable stop. 
The night before when I was driving around, I came across a really interesting bridge and I thought it might make a good picture. After dinner, I retraced my wonderings and pulled over to see what I could do. It was 92 degrees and about 6:30. I had never seen a concrete bridge quite like this and with a little bit of trial and error, I figured that I could get an interesting selfie. At least I would entertain myself with that notion! Between the traffic, trying to find the right angle and getting my phone propped up I had a heck of a time. 
The next morning I was standing in front of a group of high school students at 10 minutes after eight in the morning, and started off with Chris Stapleton’s “Where Rainbows Never Die”. I figured that the opening line my be a good dialog starter: “I’m an old man I can’t do nothin’. Young folks, they don’t pay me any mind”. And that is the way I kicked off my series of performances for the Caney Valley High School Juniors and Seniors. Their mascot is the Bull Pups, and the logo incidentally looked just like my high school mascot 45 years ago! 
After wrapping up with the school, I had one more community center to do. I noticed another watermelon stand with stripped melons and thought “What the heck!” and bought one from an old man in a cowboy hat who was missing about half his right hand. I figured there was a good story behind that too but I didn’t have the time to find out. I did my last show and drove east out of Caney, back to Coffeyville and on toward Ohio. There were some ominous looking clouds out to the west and I thought with a little luck I could keep ahead of the storm. 
I was thinking that I could probably make St Louis by 10:30 and depending on how I felt, get a room or just keep driving. I am certainly not averse to pulling over at a rest area and sleeping a couple of hours and have done that many times. But I found a Sirius radio station, Deep Cuts, that was keeping me entertained. The program structure is all B side tunes and it is really amazing how many very good musicians have recorded some really bad songs. There was one song by Pink Floyd that stood out because it was for all intent and purpose U2’s sound. The song was lame but it sounded just like the Edge’s guitar work. I was also entertained by the billboards coming into Uranus, Missouri. At least some folks in the area have decided to own the unique name of their community. The first sign that caught my eye was advertising one of the newest boutique sporting trends in the country, ax throwing. “Stop by the Axe Hole In Uranus, Missouri. And then there was a billboard that proudly claimed the best fudge comes from Uranus! I’m not making this stuff up. 
I was wide awake driving through St Louis and decided I would just keep driving. If I got tired I intended to catch a few Zzzz at a rest stop. I was hitting some large stretches of construction, but traffic was really light, and moving right along, and I thought, better to deal with this tonight than fight with stopped traffic tomorrow. The first goal was St Louis, then the Illinois state line, then the Indiana state line, then Indianapolis, and by that time I knew I could make my folks house in Dayton. Of course, I would be getting there before sunrise so I would still wind up sleeping in the car. 
At 5:15 I was getting a bacon egg and cheese biscuit at the McDonalds on St Rt 48 just south of Interstate 70. At 5:30 I was trying to see just how comfortable I could get in the reclined front seat of the CRV. I woke up and my watch said 8:30.  The folks normally don't get up before 9:00 so I thought I would go sit on the back porch. I took my phone with me and started to text MJ to let her know my whereabouts when I realized it was 9:30! I forgot about the time zone change I had driven through. I had slept for 4 hours! My pop answered the phone when I called and I told him I was standing by the back door and he said he probably ought to let me in. 
The experience of spending a few hours playing music and entertaining a large array of seniors over the past few days really made me appreciate how remarkably well my folks were doing. my mother will be 90 her next birthday and my father is 95. They are living independently and much to our chagrin are still driving. Their back yard is an explosion of colors from all of the flowers mom plants and dad has random plantings of green beans, tomatoes, and cucumbers. 
I spent the morning just hanging out with them and took mom up and back to the salon to get her hair done. It was a nice bonus to get a short visit in with the folks, especially with a heightened sense of appreciation for how well they are doing, but with about three hours and forty-five minutes to go, I was anxious to get back on the road to home.
I spent the majority of the remainder of the trip on phone calls catching up and getting things confirmed and lined up for the next few weeks. I was looking forward to a good nights sleep, a day off and then back at it with performances Sunday at a winery in Geneva on the Lake,  community concert Wednesday evening in Medina, two festivals dates and a private party the following weekend... 
It was a good trip.      
My notes from the Dalton Museum:
The shoot out occurred Oct 5th, 1892
Coffeyville started as a trading post-1869 
By ‘72 became a train rail-head town to ship cows
Oklahoma territory 
Red hot street
Gambling prostitution murder
Cattle and cowboys brought money
Between 1871-72 pop doubled
Farmers replacing cowboys
By 1890s was a farming town no one carried guns a religious town
Daltons lived there for a couple of years. Adeline Younger (from the Younger gang that ran with Jessie James) married Luis Dalton (a looser) and had 15 kids
Her oldest son Frank 25 was US deputy under hanging judge Parker 
Greg his younger brother worked with Frank too. Frank got killed in the line of duty and Greg had a dispute over pay.
The younger brothers started stealing horses and turned to robbing trains and by 1889 were serious outlaws 1890. US marshal Tec Thomas was after them
They also violated the code of the west when they killed two doctors and had widespread public animosity toward them:
“Don’t  bother a good woman and don't hurt a preacher or a doctor” 
Bob Dalton hatched the plan to rob two banks and wanted to become more famous than Jessie James
Grat Dalton was older, but not a leader and drank a lot 
21 Emmet Dalton was the youngest of the outlaws.
Bob Dalton saw this as their last holdup to make money fame and would leave the country after the Oct 5, 9:00 AM 1982 raid
In early October after the crops were sold, the banks would be flush with the farmers' money. 
When the Daltons rode into town they were wearing fake “whiskers” so they wouldn’t be recognized. They had two other partners with them. They were going to tie their horses to a community hitching rail located between the two banks. Unfortunately for them, the rail had been removed due to road construction, so they tied their horses up they nearby alley.
 As they walked out of the alley, they were recognized by one of the shop clerks, and when the gang split up going into each bank, he realized what was going on. He told John Clair the livery owner and a known sharpshooter and also the owner of Isham’s hardware store
Isham started passing out rifles and ammo
Condon bank stalled for 15
The first national  started the shooting
15 armed citizens shooting
4 citizens dead three more wounded
Emmett Dalton had 23 bullet wounds but survived, recovered, and spent 14 years in prison 
John Clair “The world loves men who do their duty well”.

Photos from the Trolley Stop 2021