September 2019

  The days are getting perceptibly shorter. It was inevitable I suppose. It’s been hot here on the Mesa as we swerve toward Autumn. And a bit humid, tropical.  But the nights cool off nicely and it’s good sleeping weather. That is, on those nights when I’m not battered with insomnia and wanderlust. Breezy nights here by the ocean are delicious and I take advantage by walking after dark and then sitting outside with a tumbler of Reposado. It’s chilly enough for a light fleece.  The past few nights I’ve watched the slice of new moon before it disappears behind the trees across the street.
  I am thinking of a Wendell Berry line from his beautiful novel, Jayber Crow. One of the characters, Mat Feltner, says after living through a terrible life altering ordeal, “The mercy of the world is that you don’t know what’s going to happen.”
  If we knew of all the strife headed our way, and no one is immune to tragedy, how would we go on? It would probably be impossible. It’s a question I don’t dare try to answer.

  Santa Barbara has suffered yet another tragedy. As if the floods and the fires of the past few years haven’t stressed the community enough. The Conception, a local dive and fishing ship, caught fire in the middle of the night while anchored off Santa Cruz Island. 35 people died. For the past four days TV crews have been at the harbor with their satellite antennas higher than the masts of the sailboats. FBI agents are everywhere. The Governor’s portable emergency office complete with several air-conditioned tents have set up in the parking lot near where the Conception is usually docked. A memorial with candles, flowers and cards by the Sea Landing is growing by the hour. I walk by every day as I have for years but instead of the usual happy boisterous banter of the marina the mood is very subdued. People are walking around as if in a trance. They nod at each other with tears in their eyes.

  I’ve been rereading some Joseph Campbell books this week. I go through a phase a few times a year where I crave his wisdom and I flip through several essays and different chapters from The Masks of God. What was I looking for these past couple of days?  I’m not really sure. But always in periods of strife or change I find Campbell’s genius has something to offer. Nobody writes better about our collective inner experiences than he does.
 I don’t need to be reminded to “Follow my bliss”.  That one has been drummed into my brain for over thirty years now. I have a shirt that says it and a magnet on my refrigerator as well. But unlike those strange people who tattoo sayings on their arms that say “Be Truthful” or some other nonsense so they won’t forget to act compassionately I don’t need the daily refresher. I know what I have to do. So perhaps I’m at a crossroads and have been looking to Campbell for other advice. I guess time will tell.
  I started reading Campbell when I moved to California in 1987. A friend recommend The Hero With A Thousand Faces but my first book was Creative Mythology. A masterpiece and a must study for anyone who is an artist. A truly life altering book for me and I still routinely delve into it.
He writes: “For we move—each—in two worlds: the inward of our own awareness, and an outward of participation in the history of our time and place.”
 And,
“The function of art is to render a sense of existence.”

San Diego interlude.
  Off to see The Wolf Brothers at Humphries By The Sea. A venue I’ve never been to before. My beautiful driver, Amanda, made good time despite LA traffic. We arrived in time for a refreshment with Art, Coco, Matt and Maria, at the hotel bar before walking over to the venue.
 It’s a very intimate setting and we had good seats. Before the show I got to shake the legend Bill Walton’s hand. And get a picture. I’ve seen him at many shows but on this night we were just a few rows apart.
  The show was great. Bobby is ripping up the world right now. I bet he’s played a hundred shows so far this year. He’s showing up everywhere. The rendition of A Hard Rain’s Gonna Fall was touching. And Ripple for an encore was lovely. “Let there be songs to fill the air.”  And indeed there were.
  The next morning Amanda had a two hour workout (amazing) and I walked over to Little Italy to meet Matt and Maria and cousin Eddie and Lisa. I hadn’t seen Eddie and Lisa in a few years and we had fun catching up. Eddie’s sense of humor gets sharper every time I see him. We laugh a lot and he’s a great story teller. We Face-Timed Ed and Pat (his parents) and later called Fran.
  Amanda meets us for a beer in Ocean Beach but unfortunately she has to leave for Santa Barbara before dinner. We are sad to see her go. She one of my favorite traveling friends. And I’m picky. (True!) Maria and Matt say goodbye, Matt is flying home in the morning but I’ll see Maria and Art again in a few days.
  I’m switching hotels to be at the other reason for the trip. Don’t tell Weir. Samantha and Travis’ wedding and Bickmore and Reilly and Todd, Sam’s Dad, are already checked in. Lisa and Eddie give me a ride to the Marriott where a small party has already started in Reilly’s room. We join in.
 The next few days are full of fun dinners, late nights by the hotel’s fire pit, good laughs, new friends and finally the wedding on Saturday night. It happened at the 32 West Brewing Company and it was as beautiful of a wedding as I’ve ever been invited to. Todd was in his glory as he walked his gorgeous and glowing daughter Samantha down the isle. The room was full of love and happiness. I had a great time, actually we all did.
  We fit in another fun lunch with Art and Maria at Jake’s in Del Mar. Great food and a beautiful view of the ocean.
  Sunday, slightly hungover, we drove back to Santa Barbara and our normal lives.

  The great Robert Hunter has died. A man whose words have affected me more than any other poet or songwriter. He was a unique voice, more than original, yet his songs also had a timeless wisdom rendered in hippie philosophy. The lessons on how to live and how to observe life flowed out of his expansive mind like lightning. He zapped me plenty of times over the years. And often just as I needed it most. I swear Garcia once looked right at me and sang, “Broken heart don’t feel so bad.” And he was right. And this, “Without love in a dream it will never come true.” Or, as I’ve always believed, “There’s nothing you can hold for very long.”  I could go on and on.
  One night at the old club, The Channel in Boston, Hauge and I walked in to Hunter’s dressing room by mistake. “We thought this was the men’s room!” We said. (Or one of us said it.) “A lot of people do.” He smiled. Then he put on a wonderful show in that damp little bar. We were ten feet away from the stage and he sang beautifully. I remember Scarlet Begonias, Jack Straw, and Box of Rain.
  He rarely toured so when he did it was a treat. At another concert up in Grass Valley he kept asking the audience, “Did you see that?” We didn’t, or I didn’t. He later wrote about that day saying he saw strange lights flickering across the stage. In broad daylight no less. Then he sang a heartfelt Sad Eyed Lady Of The Lowlands. It was a flawless performance on a hot afternoon under the California sun.
  Today I drove around while listening to my favorite CD of his, Tiger Rose. Both Jerry and Mickey play on it. It’s a treasure and like all of Hunter’s albums it’s not available to stream. Which is the single best reason to keep my CD player. He sings,
  “Born, born, born upon the world
The restless heart keeps flying
Trying to become the heart of home
Love, love, love, it picks you up
And spins you round
Sets you right back down, where you belong.”

 Bill Kreutzmann said it best, “Hunter’s words were the closest thing I had to prayers.”

  I will leave you with this.
“Such a long long time to be gone
 And a short time to be there”