This House Concert began just outside the cabin that Rebecca's father had built on Casper Mountain, many years ago. Warren Weaver had gained a reputation as a rather colorful character in the community: a somewhat rough and fiercely self-reliant individual who had an eclectic and voracious reading appetite. Over time, he had adopted Buddhism, vegetarianism, various cats, and at least one small, very long-lived dog. In his last years, Warren had grown somewhat frail, and less inclined to tend to the regular upkeep of his mountain home. By the time Rebecca and Geoff took possession of the place, the carpets were inundated with the smell of urine and feces from the various pets, and the cabin was choking in a clutter of books, magazines, and all manner of paraphernalia that suggested clear signs of a man who had become something of a hoarder (a bit ironic, considering the Buddhist teaching to refrain from attachments).
There had followed a few years of intensive purging and cleaning (in which my wife took an active part). A year ago, I was sitting on the porch of this cabin, gazing at an August blue moon, when I was inspired to compose a piece featured on one of most recent albums, and simply titled, "Casper Mountain Blue Moon". So the House Concert over this most recent Labor Day Weekend was, in part, something of a celebration of the restoration and reclamation of the cabin, and the efforts of Rebecca, along with friends and family, to preserve and build upon the better part of her parents' legacy.
That process of reclaiming the cabin had progressed to the point where my wife, Pony, and I had spent Labor Day Weekend with Geoff and Rebecca over the last couple of years. But this year, we were in the meadow that adjoins the property of Rebecca's brother, Sam; living in our 33-ft, Winnebago Brave RV (which Pony has christened "Ceci", short for Cecilia), with our three cats (Zebie: our black cat and the only other girl in the family; our orange-striped tabby, Sam; and the fluffy, grey and white escape artist I get no end of grief for naming Murphy), and Rufus, our New Mexican Brown Mutt. The House Concert was a lovely, affirming event on all manner of levels, But a couple of the folk camping with us noticed that our generator was leaking fuel. We inquired in town, looking for someone who could possibly fix it before we had to hit the road again, but wasn't in the cards. So on Wednesday after Labor Day we were making our way east to Omaha, with a planned stopover in North Platte. Our hope was to find someone to repair the generator en route.
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Michael Engberg / Blog
POWER TO THE PEOPLE PART IIB
Last Thursday, we made it to Omaha, where I had a gig scheduled for Saturday night. Pony had booked us a spot at Lake Manawa, on the southern end of neighboring Council Bluffs, Iowa. It is beautiful park, with electrical hookups, dumping stations, and all manner of other amenities. On Friday, we took the yellow car (our yellow submarine) to do laundry and shopping. We had keyed "laundromat" into our TomTom GPS, and it took us to this strip mall in Southeast Omaha. There is no kind way to put this: it was a pretty seedy place. Half the washers and dryers were broken and unusable. Still, there were few enough customers, and we were able to find some working machines available. As I proceeded to stuff dirty laundry into one of the machines, there was a guy slouching on a nearby chair. About four or five days of stubble connected his mutton chops, and neither body, hair, nor clothes looked as if they'd been washed in some time. He did not seem to have a load of laundry, but was more likely taking advantage of the air conditioning in the place. Then he reared up and let fly a big gob of spit in the middle of the floor. "Hey," I said, "there's no excuse for that!" "You don't know where I've been, man," he replied. "I don't care where you've been," I said, "there's no excuse for that. Show some respect!" He mumbled something and laid down on a couple of the chairs. There was a "No Frills Market" in the strip mall, so once we got all the laundry going, we decided to get some shopping done. In addition, the battery in the yellow car had been draining in a troubling way, and there was a car repair place in the same strip mall, so we figured to have that looked at, as well. The car shop tested the battery and found it wasn't holding a charge. We had no idea how old the battery was (for all we knew, it could still be the original battery), so we decided to get it replaced. Between the generator in the RV and battery, we were hoping this would take care of our power problems for awhile. While shopping in the supermarket, I got concerned about leaving the laundry unattended for too long, so while Pony continued with the shopping, I decided to go check on the clothes. I got a candybar as an excuse to break a five for some more quarters. While going through the checkout lane, I saw my old buddy, the gob-spitter, now in cuffs and being led by a police officer; apparently caught shoplifting. A store manager was following behind, saying, "You picked the wrong store for that kind of action!" Welcome to Omaha.
Next: The Pizza Shoppe Collective (and "have you seen our cat?")
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POWER TO THE PEOPLE PART IIa
I don't think it's entirely fair or accurate to say that Obamacare launched us on this tour, but you could say it played a part. You could maybe go so far as to call it something of a tipping point.
Last December, a meeting was held for the adjunct professors at Arapahoe College. Most of the meeting was devoted to updates in the grading software, but then the Dean addressed us about some other upcoming changes. Beginning in 2014, the Affordable Care Act would require any employer with 50 or more employees to provide healthcare to any employee working 30 hours or more per week. It was determined that, for adjunct teachers, that would translate as 12 credit hours of teaching classes. Since the community colleges did not want to assume that financial burden, it was decided that, effective the Fall of 2013, adjunct teachers would be limited to 11 credit hours of teaching (and since most classes were actually designated as 3 credit hours, many teachers faced the possibility of being restricted to only 3 such classes). But then it got better: many teachers were supplementing their teaching load by tutoring (or, in the case of music teachers, teaching private lessons). It was decided that these activities would be subjected to a formula and subsequently restricted as well. Moreover, while many teachers had been cobbling together something that resembled a full work load by teaching at more than one community college, it was further decided that these new restrictions would cover the entire Colorado Community College System (thereby knocking out that option, as well). By my reckoning, the college was basically saying, "We've never paid for your healthcare, and we don't want to pay for your healthcare, so we're going to restrict how much you can work, so you can continue to pay for your own healthcare, only with less money." I called Pony immediately after leaving that meeting. I was so mad, I'm surprised I didn't melt her phone while talking to her. Calmly, she replied, "Okay, then. Let's go on the road."
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THE POWER TO THE PEOPLE SAGA
It's been a while since I wrote anything and my thoughts have become rather long and essay-like. The result is a four post piece 1A-D. They follow one to the other and figured I should let you know so you can read them in order. Hope you have time to follow my journey.
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Power to the People (Pt 1D)
Wednesday morning, and we are traveling through Wyoming and Nebraska along some of the back roads. The Good Sam Club (a major provider of all manner of goods and services for "people living the RV lifestyle") has a GPS designed for RV's that suggests alternate routes more suited to RV travelers for a variety of reasons. It can be anything from avoiding roads with dangerously low bridges, to towns that forbid vehicles with propane tanks to travel through. For us, the Good Sam GPS had mapped out a route that would trim some 50 miles off our journey (when your fuel economy averages ten miles to the gallon, these little adjustments start to add up). There is the added benefit of seeing bits of these two states that are at least a little different from the Interstate. But not having use of the back generator is taking its toll. It's been a hot summer, and September has not offered any relief as yet. The dashboard air conditioner is doing its best, but it cannot adequately cool all of the RV. The thermostat in the back shows temperatures in the upper 90's, and we concerned for the pets.
Pony found a state park camping ground listed for North Platte, but the GPS can't seem to find it. Moreover, she has subsequently looked the place up through Google, and found a slew of bad reviews regarding the site.
We never find this site.
Instead, it is nearly 6pm, and we are lost. I come dangerously close to getting the RV stuck on some back country road, and have to slowly, carefully nurse the vehicle (still towing our Ford Focus behind us) through a tricky turn. We are both of us hot and sticky and tired and hungry and.....
Pony has a bit of a melt down. I try to remain calm and pull the two vehicles back onto a bigger, more friendly road, while my sweetie dries her tears, regains her composure, and uses the Samsung Galaxy to search for an alternative place to stay for the night.
We eventually end up at the Holiday RV resort, not far from the Interstate, in North Platte. It is a lovely, full service park, with water, electrical hookup, WiFi, and even a pool! After hooking up the electricity and getting the two air conditioners up and running, I swam a few laps in the pool while Pony cooled off by dipping her feet in the water. Another hour or so later, and we are comfortably munching on cheeseburgers and sipping a bit of wine while watching DVD's of Big Bang Theory on our flat screen. The animals have all come through the ordeal looking no worse for it ( Pony was a little worried for Murphy when she found him lying limp as a wet rag behind the couch, but it turned out to be just Murphy being Murphy; he was just fine when it was time for supper).
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Power to the People (Pt 1C)
The last time I had done a cross country tour had been more than 25 years ago. I was living in Montana at the time, and was a winner in the Newfolk Songwriting Competition, of the Kerrville Folk Festival (in Texas; other somewhat better known winners include Nancy Griffith, David Wilcox, and Lyle Lovett). The differences between that tour and this one are many and amazing for me to consider. On that previous tour, just about everything I owned was packed into a big ol' white car I'd bought in Wyoming (a stout-hearted beast that had previously served time as a Wyoming state patrol car). On that previous tour, cellphones were still rather bulky, primitive things; not nearly as ubiquitous, nor as powerful or versatile. Some 25 years ago, I was yet to meet my first wife; the woman who would eventually lead me to Denver before stomping all over my heart (but ultimately giving me the chance to grow into a stronger and arguably wiser human being).
In the intervening years, I worked in the Denver music scene. I played all manner of gigs: a punk/glam rock band, a country-and-western band, a medieval/renaissance/Celtic/World Music band. I played host to open mics all around Denver, various solo gigs, and even a stint doing singing telegrams. I spent several years teaching private lessons at The Olde Town Pickin' Parlor (in Arvada, a suburb northwest of Denver). I formed my own independent recording label and released three albums in fairly short time. I spent 13 years as an adjunct professor of music at Arapahoe Community College (in Littleton, a suburb southwest of Denver). About half a dozen years ago, I met a wise, witty, loving, Australian military brat/gypsy, and we married, got a house, the cats and the dog.
Meanwhile, the world gained those evermore clever cellphones, plus increasingly smaller and more powerful computers (and tablets: most of this blog is being composed on my Kindle Fire). The continuing evolution of the internet, along with various other manifestations of digital technology, has turned the music industry on its ear (forgive the half-unintentional pun), trashing many of the old conventions, traditions, and business models. For some years, I had taught a class in Music Business and Law at Arapahoe College; describing many of these changes. Over time, I was getting itchy to do something about them, with them.
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Power to the People (Pt 1B)
This House Concert began just outside the cabin that Rebecca's father had built on Casper Mountain, many years ago. Warren Weaver had gained a reputation as a rather colorful character in the community: a somewhat rough and fiercely self-reliant individual who had an eclectic and voracious reading appetite. Over time, he had adopted Buddhism, vegetarianism, various cats, and at least one small, very long-lived dog. In his last years, Warren had grown somewhat frail, and less inclined to tend to the regular upkeep of his mountain home. By the time Rebecca and Geoff took possession of the place, the carpets were inundated with the smell of urine and feces from the various pets, and the cabin was choking in a clutter of books, magazines, and all manner of paraphernalia that suggested clear signs of a man who had become something of a hoarder (a bit ironic, considering the Buddhist teaching to refrain from attachments).
There had followed a few years of intensive purging and cleaning (in which my wife took an active part). A year ago, I was sitting on the porch of this cabin, gazing at an August blue moon, when I was inspired to compose a piece featured on one of most recent albums, and simply titled, "Casper Mountain Blue Moon". So the House Concert over this most recent Labor Day Weekend was, in part, something of a celebration of the restoration and reclamation of the cabin, and the efforts of Rebecca, along with friends and family, to preserve and build upon the better part of her parents' legacy.
That process of reclaiming the cabin had progressed to the point where my wife, Pony, and I had spent Labor Day Weekend with Geoff and Rebecca over the last couple of years. But this year, we were in the meadow that adjoins the property of Rebecca's brother, Sam; living in our 33-ft, Winnebago Brave RV (which Pony has christened "Ceci", short for Cecilia), with our three cats (Zebie: our black cat and the only other girl in the family; our orange-striped tabby, Sam; and the fluffy, grey and white escape artist I get no end of grief for naming Murphy), and Rufus, our New Mexican Brown Mutt. The House Concert was a lovely, affirming event on all manner of levels, But a couple of the folk camping with us noticed that our generator was leaking fuel. We inquired in town, looking for someone who could possibly fix it before we had to hit the road again, but wasn't in the cards. So on Wednesday after Labor Day we were making our way east to Omaha, with a planned stopover in North Platte. Our hope was to find someone to repair the generator en route.
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Power to the People (Pt 1a)
We were supposed to officially hit the road on Thursday, the 29th of August, but ourplans were altered due to a sore tooth. It had started as a low-level, nagging tenderness a few days prior. Ever the optimist, I initially (hopefully) thought it might be some stray seed or some such that might have got wedged, and would subsequently work its way out. But no such luck. Come Sunday (the 25th), there was such a throbbing that I wondered how something could be that painful and not simply explode, tossing shrapnel into all parts of my head. I was able to get into an emergency care dentist, where (for $120) I at least got a prescription for some antibiotics and some heavy duty pain killers. This was to hold me over until Thursday, which was the soonest I could see an endodontist to actually work on the tooth; hence the amendment in travel plans. Fortunately, the first gig on the tour (a House Concert on Casper Mountain, Wyoming) wasn't until the Saturday, so I could take an extra day for a little oral surgery, a few last minute chores, and chillin' with some vicodin.
The concert on Casper Mountain was a lovely, almost magical experience. A big shout of thanks goes out to our dear friends, Rebecca and Geoff Hunt, for organizing the event. I was pleased to meet some of the local folk of Casper, and as the evening progressed, there was a lot of talk about opportunities to play in the area when we return in January.
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First it is a mountain....
There is something of an old Zen saying: First it is a mountain, then it is not a mountain, then it is a mountain again. It is a reflection upon piercing the veil of illusion and knowing the "suchness" of a thing. I was thinking about that a couple of weeks ago while hiking Quandary Peak (southwest of Breckenridge, CO). I was also thinking of a scene in the movie, "Il Postino", in which the Postman who is the title character of the movie asks the poet, Pablo Neruda to to explain to him the concept of "il metafore" (the metaphor). After providing him with such a description, the Postman says to the poet, "Well, it seems to me from what you say that anything could be a metaphor for anything else." (and the poet is quite taken aback that his friend has so keenly grasped this concept). I was thinking of these things, and many other things as I made my way to the summit of the mountain, and the mountain taught me some valuable lessons that I feel serve as metaphor to the journey I am about to embark on. The first is that things will get tough, and you will be tested. Secondly, take time to gather the will and energy to keep going (towards the last 100 feet or so, there was a lot of taking a few steps, pausing for a few moments, then taking a few more steps, and so on). There was the lesson of observing those who go before you; to learn something from the approach they take and to take heart that if they can do it, it is possible for you as well. And along with that was the lesson for me that you must persevere, and hold on to the notion that you can and will reach that summit. So, since climbing that mountain two weeks ago, the metaphors continue. A couple of days ago, we traded in our two cars for a 2007 Ford Focus. We will tow it behind the RV and use it for short commutes as we stop in various towns. The RV is a Winnebago Brave. Brave and Focus: two aptly named vehicles to help us on our journey.
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Fingers crossed
With just a little bit of luck, I'm hoping the new CD 's should arrive today. I have a gig at Highlands Cork and Coffee coming up this Sunday (@ 2pm), and would love to have the new disks available by then. At the very least, I should have them for next week's show at Sonoma'z, and the house concert that was added one week from tomorrow. Meanwhile, Pony got her new Samsung smart phone, and we're getting it set up with PayPal to process credit card purchases. It has now been more than a week living in the RV. We're all of us (humans and critters) getting comfortable with the new digs. About three weeks before we actually hit the road, and still plenty to do between now and then, but it's getting more real, and more exciting.
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And Still Ever More Stuff.....
Two more days until we close on the house. Last week, we spent pretty much all of Thursday packing a 26-foot UHaul truck with what I was sure was about 95% of our stuff. On Friday, we drove this truck to Casper, Wyoming. Most of the contents managed to get stuffed into a storage unit we secured there, with a bit of it going up the mountain to reside in the cabin of our friends, Geoff and Rebecca. By Saturday, we were heading back to Denver for a gig I had at Cannon Mine Coffehouse, in Lafayette. The gig went well. I had an appreciative audience and sold a CD. The next night, I played a House Concert for my friends, Warner and Lindy. The occasion served the additional purpose of celebrating Lindy's birthday, so there was a fine gathering of friends. Again, I sold a couple of CD's, and took advance orders for the new CD's (which should be due out in another couple of weeks). It was a very fun night, and a welcome end to a long and busy week.Tonight, we ate Thai food in the RV and watched an episode of Nero Wolf. Tomorrow is one more big load of stuff donated to the thrift store, a few loads of stuff into the garbage bin, and installing the last of our stuff intended for the RV (including the kitties). Rufus is completely at home in the new "home on wheels", and looks forward to climbing into the rig with the slightest invitation. Murphy (our youngest kitty) is also very comfortable with the new digs. Zebie and Sam may still need a bit of adapting, but they seem to be coming around to the notion. Blog entries and other internet activity may be a bit sporadic over the next week or so, as we say goodbye to our old house and adjust to Cecelia (Pony's name for the RV).
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