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.



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.


By jamesghutcheson

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