Hello everyone, everywhere,

I started off the day today by going for breakfast with two good friends: Guy and Vinnie. We met downtown and I live downtown, so it took me about twenty minutes to walk there, even with my bad leg and my bad arm. We had a great breakfast and a great talk.

Medically speaking, I’m good and I’m bad. My doctor says I’m healthy, except for all the things that are wrong with me.

Moving on from that…Last week I turned sixty-one in Edmonton with Michelle and her family. It was extraordinary to be around a group of people who were like a second family to me. I did what I always do: I gave them my best stuff for about five minutes, then I just let them talk amongst themselves, and I just sat back and took it all in. I like to see the family interaction.

That’s it.

And now it’s time to close our eyes and our thoughts, if only for a moment…and rest.



Thursday afternoon,and he had 229 wishes on his mind. He had been in the big city visiting. It seemed he’d had a choice between looking at his old face in the mirror and taking it to people who might like it.

The event was spectacular, though he wasn’t much of a family man. The love overwhelmed him, but he had been in a world that he could not quite grasp. Don’t worry, as much as he loved it, he always went back to the grey.

Splendour is appreciated by some–the some who have time to appreciate it. Like him.

That’s all.


By jamesghutcheson


Hello everyone, everywhere,

I’m so pumped this week because my hip is getting much better: I only pulled all the muscles. On the other end of the scope, I have my arm in a sling; they think I have a hairline fracture in my elbow. I walked around for two weeks, snapping my arm, trying to get the extension going, It really hurt, and it wouldn’t work. Anyways, the doc says sling until the CAT scan. That’s okay.

Well, that’s enough of that. Let’s get on with the fun of things. I’m really excited because I’m feeling healthy again. I’m putting on weight and muscle, and I’m writing the way that I want to write. I stepped out of my comfort zone last week, so this week I’m back to myself.

This tale is something that I dreamed up while I was sitting outside, just watching the wind and the trees. It was a really windy day and it was kind of grey. This little tale just fell out of me.

Michelle and I are hoping that Dean likes the story. I’m on my way to see them on Wednesday. That’s it for me.

And now it’s time to close our eyes and our thoughts, if only for a moment…and rest. And now…



Four hundred years have come and gone.

It might have been dark, then again light.

No matter if the wee Scotsman comes a knockin’.

In the grey, a long old road; at the end, a mist.

And then–did you see that?

For him. For something. Because you won’t. Don’t you see? It’s for the better.

Because you won’t. Don’t you see? It’s for the better.

(I’m almost sure all you lassies are fine–it’s Mary he seeks).

The wee Scotsman darts magically with, and in the wind.

His eyes twinkle brown, his hair long, his face proud.

A journey set so long ago–the smell of heather.

Endlessly, never to rest.

Must find Mary.

In your dreams he will creep.

In your soul, in your passion.

Butterflies, falcons, robins, visions dancing through your most deep thoughts.

There is no running fast or far enough to stop this quest.

He will never stop. His journey is far from over.

Pull the shades and hide if you can.

Forsake not a memory.

Take them and you to safe harbour.

Cover your ears and tell your worry to rest.

Until the wee Scotsman comes a knockin’.

That’s all.


By jamesghutcheson


Hello everyone, everywhere,

This week I am celebrating the fact that I am slowly winning the fight over my body. It’s killing me, but I’m fighting like crazy. That’s enough about that.

I have found myself almost at a crossroads. I want to play, and I know the ability is there, but once again my disabilities have knocked me down, so I’ve had to fight very hard to get standing up again. I’ll either work my ass off to be back…or I won’t. I’m getting old, and I’m tired. Some days it’s hard to get up swinging.

Though I have friends and family who are always there supporting me, most are at  distance, so I find myself in isolation, talking out my problems with the three people on the couch and the two on the chair.  Oh well, that’s the way it is.

A friend dropped by today and we had a heck of a visit. I smiled the whole day through. Good one.

Anyways, next week, I’m heading to Edmonton for my big birthday bash with Michelle and Dean and all my second family. For now, I will rest up.

I wrote this piece tonight as a birthday present for my little niece. She’s the youngest of the bunch, and she’s as smart as a whip. She’s 19 years old, and in 19 years the only present I ever gave her was a little blue raincoat with a duck on the back. I think it was her fourth or fifth birthday. We had a long chat last night; we haven’t had one like that for a while. And she remembered that little coat with the duck on it. I smiled. That’s it.

And now it’s time to close your eyes and your thoughts, if only for a moment…and rest. Lauren, this is your second gift.



It started at my birthday party. It was a family affair–a gathering so to speak. All of us together. It was late August and hot, as I remember.  At the age of 19, I was searching–oh yes, searching. We’ll leave it at that.

As I looked around I saw my grandfather, standing tall and majestic. I felt very much at home when I looked in his eyes. Sometimes love is captured by just a blink of an eye.

The fun and laughter went long into the night. I was young, with so much to do. I took my grandfather’s hand, looked around at everyone, and said to myself, “I guess I see what we’re all fighting for.”

Welcome home, Estelle Burnside. Though they were there to celebrate my birthday, I was celebrating them.


(For Lauren. May the science you love so much help us all to walk into the future.  Happy birthday. Love your uncle).

That’s all.

By jamesghutcheson


Hello everyone, everywhere,

This week I’ve still been trying to repair myself to get back to playing. I must have whacked myself a lot harder than I thought because I’m having some severe trouble moving around properly. Everything’s aching. It’s giving me headaches too, and it’s hard to think right.

Our weather has been unusually muggy, and it sure takes its toll because we usually have a very dry climate here. We’ve been getting more rain here than I’ve seen in a long time.

On another note,  poor Michelle is in a lot of pain and I’m worried about her as I always do, but now it’s harder because she’s in Edmonton. I’ve got to leave it all up to Dean.

So even though we both agree that this is a beautiful story, neither of us is in our best shape tonight. But we’re still laughing. As long as we can do that, we’ll keep going. We will continue to get better because I’ve got to play, and Michelle has got to run. That’s the way we see it today. Oh yeah, Dean’s doing really well. And Grandma’s almost three-quarters of the way up that banister.

And now it’s time to close our eyes and our thoughts, if only for a moment…and rest.



I need to play. I’m a drummer. But my body is hurt worse than I thought.  I’d fallen, you see: my balance likes to dance without warning. The distraction of going down was no problem; it was banging my hip and knee on some buried stump that did it. Falling on my backside in the mud was an afterthought.

While I was sitting in the mud, it started to rain. I looked up into the rain for a moment. I was too sore and tired to get up. Then I bowed my head and just sat in the rain and the mud.

Out of the rain came a voice that I knew so well. “You gotta get up, bro. You’ve gotta get up and carry on. Your journey is not over yet.” Hearing my older brother calling to me–well, I guess you all know–I got up.

That’s all.


By jamesghutcheson


Hello everyone, everywhere,

It’s August. New month, new thoughts.

Last month was lost. I spent all of my time thinking about not playing, and it was very difficult. This month…get on with it. I have to retrain my mind and my body. I have to keep on drumming because it’s so natural for me to do, and it brings pleasure to people. I never think about it. I just love doing it. Once you’ve counted in, you’re in a world that is up to you.

That’s all on that.

Nature time. I’ve been spending a lot of time regrouping. I put on the music,  take my sticks, go out on the balcony, and play to whoever wants to watch. And believe me, I give them a good show. But if you’ve ever seen me play you’d know that already.

Michelle and Dean are finally getting settled into their house Edmonton. Grandma is stuck on the lift half-way up. We’ll get her out by September. (This one’s for you Grandma).

And now it’s time to close our eyes and our thoughts, if only for a moment…and rest. I’ll leave you tonight with…



I sat on the balcony one Saturday afternoon.

No one around; just me and the sticks.

The trees screamed of life as the wind pushed their limits.

Not too much, you see. Just enough to make them…dance.

The rain was pouring. Tragically Hip was constant.

Set the stage, I would.

The wind carried the music and the music carried the wind.

Forget me if you have to; I am busy mourning someone who really needs my attention.

Backbeat and compassion, with perhaps insight to my grave mistake of not trusting.

Then I did.

Then I didn’t–because I felt the cold.

Funny though, as I finished these words the sun appeared once more.

That’s all.


By jamesghutcheson