Wednesday, Nov. 14
Drove from Cedar Falls, Iowa to Racine, Wisconsin today. Five hours on blue highways. Listened to a Jeff Black CD. Listened to the radio. Listened to nothing. Ate huevos rancheros at a café. I wouldn’t have been able to count all the abandoned farms, beautiful and sad looking. There were dried grasses along fence lines, and freshly disked black soil on both sides of the road, north and south nearly the entire way.

In Racine, walking downtown in the cold and dark before my gig, strong in the air was the smell of burning tires. I love the old buildings though, and enjoy Main Street and Sixth Street. I’ll go down one block, and back up the other, feeling the history and the excitement that still radiates out of the derelict neighborhood. Its glory days of immigrants, commerce, inventors (typewriters, automobiles), and old money are gone. Now, upstart used bookstores and cafes run on a shoestring and give the cheap rent a try. I read a poster in a storefront window about the renovation of the one grand theater in town that didn’t get demolished in the 60’s. It’ll be the pride of the city. As I walk on I notice the burning smell has diminished, replaced by a brisk wind coming off of Lake Michigan.

I turned forty last week. November 10th was the day. It felt like my odometer clicked over a line of zeros, and I turned quiet to celebrate and witness it. Then came what I can only describe as a hormone-induced bout of self reflection. As the days passed and added numbers to the calendar, the feeling lifted. I had a similar pause when I turned 30, which in fact had greater weight. That’s when I decided that I had to get out of restaurants and get on the road playing music. By god I did it. Ten years later now, what do I have to show? If it’s anything, it’s just a stubborn will to keep on what I’m already doing. But I realize I don’t have to show anything. I try to appreciate the fact that I have the kind of freedom that I always desired, and not take it for granted. Everything else is gravy…that’s Thanksgiving for me.

…And gravy are the stories we tell each other. For example, since re-entering the Midwest I’ve developed a fascination with grain elevators. I’ve developed a compulsion to photograph them, to recognize and enjoy their presence. Last Saturday during a concert at the 7th Street Loft in Lincoln, Nebraska I mentioned this to the audience. I went on about it for a bit complimenting the fine, large elevators in town. I thought the audience would probably regard me as weird talking about grain elevators of all things. But after the show, to my surprise, I had numerous people come up to tell me all sorts of stories about where to go to see the best elevators, pet names of some local ones, some history, and also the fact they’ve been known to spontaneously explode! It was great: a story for a story; it’s my kind of currency. Like I said, gravy.

Saturday, Nov. 24
This Thanksgiving day I broke with tradition and went for a long drive with a friend through rural Nebraska. No hours in the kitchen, no gut stuffing meal, no hubbub, just peace on the plains. It felt like the last day of Indian summer while we blew several rolls of film taking photos of abandoned churches, country schools, old trains, grain elevators, and windmills. In the town of Scribner we beheld what only could have been the aftermath of a silo explosion. I think this is caused by some element in the dust of the grain being flammable. The one next to it was bent and blasted, yet still standing, and a bucket loader was shoveling into a dump truck the remains of the demolished one. In Hooper and Fremont there were some very cool old trains, and in Wahoo (made famous by the David Letterman show) we stopped to look for Letterman’s phone booth and a beer.

Next week it’s onto Colorado before making a U-turn heading back east. I’m looking forward to visiting some altitude at the Aspen Meadows House Concert in Nederland, and a brief stop in Laramie, Wyoming. The weather channel season is just starting up for me. Driving in these parts is like a sport seeing which storms I can dodge by altering my travel schedule just so, or which ones I just have to grit my teeth and barrel through.

I wish you all safe travels and peace these next few weeks. I would like to make a gentle suggestion that music makes a wonderful gift, and that a visit to my recordings page may prove to inspire answers as to what to give this holiday time. ‘Nuff said.

Thanks for reading. I always appreciate your comments. ‘Till next time,
Cheers! - Dana