Greetings all! Supposedly, November has been my month at home. Home? What does that mean? I think it means touring in the North-East. The line blurs between home and away. Of course I get to sleep in my own bed more often, but some of the places where I am given lodging overnight are more comfortable than my own home.

Take last night for example. Lui Collins and I had a duo gig in Ithaca, New York on "Bound For Glory". This was my fourth time back in five years and the first time doing it with Lui. In it's 33rd year "Bound For Glory" is the longest running live radio folk concert in the country. Hosted since its inception by Phil Shapiro, who with the help of devoted volunteers and charitable donations bring to the Finger Lakes Region of upstate New York some of the finest folk performers in North America.

After the show we met our host, Tracey, and followed her to her home. After a late snack and conversation we fell into our respective beds. All the rooms I sleep in all over the country seem to reflect of both the personality of their owners and their distinct location. This one had a wonderful poster of a photo taken from space (430 miles up!) of the Finger Lakes. Looking at it I felt as though I was hovering in space with extraordinary vision seeing all the patchwork farm fields, the urban areas of Rochester and Syracuse, and countless other small rural towns tucked into folds of the rolling hills of upstate New York.

At days light the view from the house revealed Cayuga Lake in the distance, and even more enchanting was the brook that ran toward then around the house in it's ravine of rock and moss and oak and cedar. Just marvelous! Tracey fed us better than I usually have the patience to feed myself, and in general made us feel like we were individually welcome to return anytime. Situations like this occur regularly. Generous and trusting people who know that we songwriters are of the harmless sort, and ready to leave good karma in our wake. Restorative exchanges like these help fill the well and balance the times when the road food is poor and we're strung out from too many nights in a motel or camping in the car.

Home...... home now is wood fires and wearing sweaters in the grey light and windy days of November. Like every year since I moved out east, the first snow of the season has fallen on my birthday week. I turned 38 on Wednesday the 10th, and drove up to Maine that day to play at Unity College. With sweet predictability, during my first set somebody came in from out of doors with snowflakes on their coat.

One of the highlights these weeks since my last "Notes" entry was to finish a song called "What Would Woody Do?" It takes the idea of the ubiquitous "What would Jesus do?" and moves it into the folk realm by using the contemporary icon Woody Guthrie as it's center point. Personally speaking, by and large I find it easier to identify with Woody and his life than I do with Jesus; being a folk singer and all, of course. The lyrics go as follows:

What Would Woody Do
1)
I am just a working man without a stock to trade
I drive my rig from town to town, at night I get to play
I've not been down Wall street nor Madison avenue ~ w.w.w.d.
I was born into this life without a guarantee
No silver spoon, no safety net, no insurance policy
My personal salvation lay in carrying a tune ~ w.w.w.d
chorus
What would Woody do, what would Woody do?
Write about it, talk about it, sing about it too.
Hit the restless hobo trail under the skies of blue ~ w.w.w.d

2)
The days of hopping freight trains are all but past and gone
But there will always be a way to cross a distance that is long
All you need is gumption and a little howdy-do ~ w.w.w.d.
I'll bless the four directions with tobacco on the ground
I may be plenty lost right now, but tomorrow I'll be found
For the privilege of experience I wander fro and to ~ w.w.w.d
chorus
What would Woody do, what would Woody do?
Write about it, talk about it, sing about it too.
Evidence was written on the soles of his shoes ~ w.w.w.d.

3)
The sprawl suburban wasteland now spans from shore to shore
The drone of advertisements tell us to consume more
While the inner city indigent stand waiting in a queue ~ w.w.w.d.
Turn off that old t.v. set, shut off the radio
Switch off that computer screen, just say it's time to go
To have a rare and wondrous live is something we can choose ~ w.w.w.d.
chorus
What would Woody do, what would woody do?
write about it, talk about it, sing about it too
How it feels behind the wheel with the lonesome ramblin' blues ~ w.w.w.d.

4)
He'd say go find a thing that's wrong and put your finger on it
You don't have to be a poet to write a song about it
You're gonna get your point across if it's anywhere near true ~ w.w.w.d
Tell me 'bout the things you know in an ordinary way
The dust and dirt and joy and hurt in every single day
Each and every person here has got a point of view ~ w.w.w.d.
chorus
What would Woody do, what would Woody do?
Write about it, talk about it, sing about it too.
How it feels to walk a mile in someone else's shoes ~ w.w.w.d

©Dana Robinson St. Paul, MN October 1999

Thanks again for reading my musings and ramblings. Can't tell you how much I appreciate you stopping by for a visit. Leave me a note in my guest book if you feel so inclined. Next month I'll likely be writing my "notes" from Virginia where I'll be holed up with friends for a couple of weeks. Until then take good care. See you soon in your town.

- Dana