April 2022 Newsletter
“ You said , always and forever, you never would leave me baby. It’s such long and lonely time.
Too drunk and still drinking …. it’s just the way I feel. It’s alright, that’s what you told me. But what we had was so beautiful.”
- Dave Matthews - Some Devil -
The Cumulonimbus clouds came rolling in just after two and big, heavy raindrops crashed on the windscreens and old tin roofs. The potholed roads were treacherous as my friend and fellow ATC and I cruised with a trailer full of calves to my sisters place just outside of town. The cows were calling and the calves restless. It’s time though. An eight month old calf cannot still be suckling on its mother, especially with winter coming and the mother already pregnant again. It’s a difficult, challenging time separating cows and calves but it’s necessary for the health and survival of the herd. We were supposed to fetch a few hay bales and protein rations but the storm had other plans. Canning the idea until another day I sent the workers home and we picked up dad on the way to the bar for a steak and a few cold ones. Navigating rivers of water en route we laughed and told stories. We spoke and reminisced about past adventures with beer breath and warm hearts while the Vredefort Dome turned purple with lighting dancing in the ominous sky.
The last two weeks have been a blur of work, farm planning, workouts, rehearsals and playing gigs. I rounded up the guys for a gig at Sowaar Bar and we rocked the joint with my originals and some old school country and rock. I had the outstanding heavy fuzz blues outfit Two to Twelve as special guests and we played our hearts out to a crowd of friendly strangers and long time friends. I had way too much beer and had one of my best Uber rides home in years. It’s strange, but people, for the most part anyway, are always interested to find out what you’re about when they see you carrying a musical instrument, in my case a couple of acoustic guitars. My Uber driver named Bryan was no different. Bryan and I talked about our favourite bands, recommended some others and laughed and spoke about the challenges the people of our beautiful country and the world are facing. Bryan helped carry my gear to the front porch and shook my hand. We had agreed to not wear the silly, yet compulsory face masks and it felt great seeing his friendly smile and perfect teeth. I waved as he disappeared around the corner and added a decent tip to complete my ride, probably to never see him again.
I poured one more bourbon and stood outside staring at the stars with gravelly voice and blisters on my fingers, contemplating the terrible beauty of the city and the privilege to be able to play music, have friends, family and good health. Options and freedom, dreams and aspirations. I thought about my friend losing his life partner and how this rocked him and the people that know them to the core. I thought of him walking the hallways of an empty house trying to make sense of the loss, the void and the future. I had popped in earlier in the week before the show to pay my respects and drop off a meal and to just be there. There are no words to make sense and every sentence falls flat on the page or rings hollow in times like these. She will be missed and I’m grateful to have been in her orbit for a short while. We sent each other poems by our favourite poets from time to time and we shared a great love of Wisława Szymborska, the great Polish poet, essayist and translator. Once again art was responsible for breaking down barriers between an accomplished poet and writer like her and me, a fledgling storyteller with cowboy boots and a curious heart.
I can hear the mother cows calling into the rainy darkness, it’s three am and the sounds of the farm seem amplified. Crickets chirping, the lonesome call of a barn owl. I guess it’s time to get dressed, put on my work boots and walk into the chilly autumn morning. I’m still tired but sleep won’t come. There will be a whole lot of changes coming my way in the next few weeks and I hope that I will be able to manage them with grace, kindness and humility. I hope I am brave enough to look at the future with new eyes and maybe, just maybe accept the things I know I can longer change or salvage.
Love at First Sight - Wislava Szymborska
They’re both convinced
that a sudden passion joined them.
Such certainty is beautiful,
but uncertainty is more beautiful still.
Since they’d never met before, they’re sure
that there’d been nothing between them.
But what’s the word from the streets, staircases, hallways—
perhaps they’ve passed by each other a million times?
I want to ask them
if they don’t remember—
a moment face to face
in some revolving door?
perhaps a “sorry” muttered in a crowd?
a curt “wrong number” caught in the receiver?—
but I know the answer.
No, they don’t remember. They’d be amazed to hear
that Chance has been toying with them
now for years.
Not quite ready yet
to become their Destiny,
it pushed them close, drove them apart,
it barred their path,
stifling a laugh,
and then leaped aside.
There were signs and signals,
even if they couldn’t read them yet.
Perhaps three years ago
or just last Tuesday
a certain leaf fluttered
from one shoulder to another?
Something was dropped and then picked up.
Who knows, maybe the ball that vanished
into childhood’s thicket?
There were doorknobs and doorbells
where one touch had covered another
beforehand.
Suitcases checked and standing side by side.
One night, perhaps, the same dream,
grown hazy by morning.
Every beginning
is only a sequel, after all,
and the book of events
is always open halfway through
JB