This Is My Legacy. No pressure.

  I wake with a little something percolating in my mind, in my heart, whatever that place is where ideas and inspiration and inklings of Something Else get their start. I try to sleep some more, to dream, to let the thing grow, or go away, whichever. But I did not sleep and the thing nags and starts to dress itself in words. Something about witches and blessings and who people assume witches are and who is out there, living magic every day. Finally, the witches, the words got louder, more insistent that I rise. And I don’t worry too much about the normal morning rituals, of waking the boys, of making breakfast. I throw on my brother’s old overalls and a t-shirt blessing my friend’s war on cancer. I find socks with skulls and my cozy, tired, slippers. I creep down, past closed doors and all of the devices leaching energy from the wall. Instead of the normal routines, I come to the place closest to the outside, without the chill. The sky is orange, Sun threatening to burn away th...

  There’s a war in Ukraine and I am sitting in my warm home pondering springtime daffodils.   There’s a war in Ukraine and, on the news, Ukrainian people are begging foreign journalists, in their best English, to send help.   There’s a war in Ukraine and men in suits are talking about it. Men in suits are negotiating. Men in suits are pulling the levers.   There’s a war in Ukraine and where are the women? In the west, if they are lucky, carrying their children and pets. Did they leave their husbands and fathers behind? Did they leave their oldest sons? Did they leave behind their sisters, in basements, listening to blast after unending blast, smelling smoke and dust, praying for peace, for an end? Are they tempted to give up their resolve to make the pain and the noise and the dying stop?   There’s a war in Ukraine and their leader is an actor, trained to consider the feelings of others, their motivation, trained to consider the bes...

  When I was nineteen, I was a sophomore in college. I had a blues show at the college radio station. You probably heard of it. It's WAY down on the left end of the dial. Further...yup, a little further...Oh, damn, you missed it! It's okay. You had to be a pretty diehard fan to find me. In my freshman year, I crept across campus at the crack of dawn for an early-morning time slot on the AM dial. You can ask my roommate. I was MUCH more likely to show up on the radio than I was in classes. Later, I was the only one at the station who took advantage of all of the interviewing equipment. I used it to record phone interviews with John Hammond and Bob Margolin. I had the Nighthawks and a couple of local bands I was in love with as guests on my show. The interviews earned me a spot on Sunday afternoons, which was WAY better than the 5:00am Tuesday gig! When George Clinton was coming to town, I was the best/only choice to do his interview. I studied, at the library, like we had to do,...