I WONDER WHERE THE WIND IS GOING NEXT

Hello everyone, everywhere,

Well, the holidays have happened again. And somewhere across this vast world, there must be enough of us who still believe in right and wrong.  Most people have to just keep going despite the craziness and sadness and can only wonder why. Nevertheless, this is a joyous time to be together and I do not live in fear. I choose to live the best I can. That’s it.

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

A QUIET NIGHT

stars

This is the time, in these dark nights of war and hate, that we are supposed to slow down. It is now our turn as human beings to step up and say to these people, “No more!” I cannot believe how faith becomes a tool for terrorism, war, and bigotry. What the hell has happened to us that we can justify dead babies in the street?

It is Christmas and that magic is for the children who can carry on. So maybe, just for a while, after the barricades are all set in place and we hold our own a little harder than usual, we can all pray for one peaceful, quiet night.

That’s all.

(NEVER EVER GIVE UP).

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By jamesghutcheson

TIME FOR A PAUSE

Hello everyone, everywhere,

I live in a world of music, art, and pain. That’s my life.

Moving on, I’m in rehearsals now with Soulful Noize.  Fred, our newest member, has brought some great inspiration at a time that we really needed it. And Daniel is back; he’s very alert and playing beautifully, just like he always did. He’s being let go from the hospital today so he can finally go home.  We all call Danny the strongest man we know and he never lets us down in that department. Thanks to all of you at Soulful Noize for bringing me back down and letting me do what I do best with the people I like to do it with.

All right, enough of that. Michelle is doing better each day. She says no: right now she’s shaking her head. But I say yes and that’s why we’re a great team. Dean is dealing with some stuff right now with his mother in the hospital. We’re wishing her well.

Now on to the story. This is a true story once again. It takes place in 1978. (That’s a long time ago. And I’m still playing. Wow). Anyway, at the time I played in a five-piece band called Omega. We toured together for two and a half years and it was very difficult to be on the road so long. This story is about a Christmas night partway into our tour.

CHRISTMAS, THE STARS, AND CHETWYND, B.C.

class-bar-fight

We were young and full of ourselves in this majestic place in northern B.C. At the same time, we were covered in darkness and cold. But who cares when you are twenty-two and the world is calling: Show me what you got! At this stage in the act, you’re supposed to get it right.

The first night at Chetwynd, the whole back of the bar went up in a fist fight. By the time it was over, fifty-six guys were barred for fighting. And we had not played one note. I smiled and said, “Well at least it’s not us.” Despite that, we stayed two weeks and that was the only fight we saw.

We were still in Chetwynd at Christmas, and the hotel closed for one day. But they were great people and they told us, “No problem! We will leave the sandwiches and pies unlocked for you.” What a lovely gesture.

It did not happen. They forgot, and left them locked. Five of us, and no Christmas dinner. It was six o’clock and pitch dark and we had no food.

We looked through the phone book and found that the Greyhound bus depot in Dawson Creek was serving dinner. Sixty miles away. So here we go. Sixty miles one way to get our Christmas dinner. Luckily for us, it had started to snow pretty hard. We five weaved around winding roads through the snow, going after our Christmas dinner.

We finally made it. And the bus depot did have food. Much much later, we returned to our hotel. Full, maybe, stressed out for sure. No matter. Just another time along the road for our band.

That’s all.

(NEVER EVER GIVE UP).

By jamesghutcheson

SOMETIMES REMEMBERING REALLY SUCKS

Hello everyone, everywhere,

First off I want to say that Michelle is fighting like crazy; we’ll figure it out and she’ll get better. Dean’s doing great and Mama B is holding it all together.

This has been another lousy week in Arctic air. I’ve been off from playing for ten days. It was a nice break but on the other side, there was too much time to be thinking.

This week I thought I would tell you a story about myself. When I was in the hospital so long ago, lying in my bed for endless days and nights, I would think about how this all must have been my fault. I just didn’t remember. All I wanted to do was to go home. It never happened, but it would have gone like this.

HEY, IT’S ME!

man-in-hospital-bed

It was so dark and misty that night that only a crescent moon could keep me from falling off the path. I hurried you see; people were waiting. All the stories I would tell; some were mine and some…not so much.

What an adventure! I debated on which tale to spill first.  First, there will be stories of grandeur, and then, like a brush dancing across the easel, I will change and tell you a sad story. You will forgive me now because I’m a better man.

I will not exhaust you with sorrow. My smile will bring you back. Mistakes are measured in time, tallies kept by those who need to do that. No matter now. I’m back. Hey! It’s me! Can you not hear me coming home?

Oh, I am too late.

That’s all.

(NEVER EVER GIVE UP)

By jamesghutcheson

DISCOURSE? I’M SURE THAT’S A WORD…I KNOW!

Hello everyone, everywhere,

Hey, this week has been a resting week because we’re not in rehearsals until a week from today. So I did something incredible for myself instead: I bought a footstool for my chair. Beside this chair I have my beautiful lamp and my view outside is just trees. I can hear cars but I don’t see them. And now I have my footstool, and the magic of it is…it’s collapsible! When you want to put it away you take the top off,  you fold up the rest, you put it back in the original box and you’re done.

Michelle’s on the mend and so is Dean. That’s a good thing. The weather has turned ugly, but it’s winter. What are you going to do?

Tonight is the final part of my three-part story about Rossi Brown Copeland, a little imp of a fellow in a fantasy world. All of my work can be seen by scrolling down the blog. You can see the first two parts of the story as well as all of my previous stories.

I realize that sometimes people are in a hurry. They click on my blog and sometimes they don’t get it. At times I write in the abstract so in the future I’ll try to help the story along. That will be a new project for sure.

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

THE NIGHT THE LAST LIGHTS WENT OUT IN JIMTOWN

PART III

a-mans-fantasy

Mr. Hummel owns the bakery. Rossi Brown loves the cookies and bread. Last year he said he’d help Mr. Hummel make a batch of cookies. You think making cookies is easy? Four on the shelf, six in his pocket–it was hard to keep up. Rossi told Mr. Hummel to slow down because the cookies in his pocket were breaking. So ended his career as Rossi Brown Copeland, Master Baker.

Now Rossi sees old Jack up on the ladder fixing another gas lamp. Old Jack has one wooden leg. Last year it was bugging him, so Rossi said, “Old Jack, I’ll keep an eye on that leg of yours as if it were my own.”

Old Jack looked at Rossi Brown, shook his head slowly and said, “You’ll be taking good care of it.”

Rossi looked at him and said, “Don’t worry.”

Old Jack went up the ladder and Rossi drifted off, holding Jack’s wooden leg. Then he saw the freight wagon loading up for its last trip of the year to who knows where. As it happens, Rossi put the leg down on the wagon to pet the horses goodbye.

Rossi Brown was glad to see old Jack now had his leg back. He yelled up the ladder, “I’m Rossi Brown Copeland. Remember me?” It’s good it was windy because I don’t think Jack was saying hello. “Too bad,” Rossi thinks. “I could have been the greatest gas lamp-fixer ever. Rossi Brown Copeland, you’re the best.” Rossi thinks it over and decides that it’s too dirty a job for him. So ends a great career.

Alas, the lamps are being extinguished one by one, until the last lamp is left. Someone yells, “Let Rossi Brown turn it out.” Rossi is amazed and delighted. To him, finally, they see Rossi Brown Copeland as the best gas light putter-outer in the world.

“Just turn it out Rossi,” someone in the crowd yells. So he does and at that second they all go still. The season is over.

That’s all.

(NEVER EVER GIVE UP).

By jamesghutcheson