A soft rain is engulfing the city and due to my proximity to the airport I can hear the late night roar of departing traffic off Joburg‘s Runway 21 Right. With the downtown neon creating a dome of blue and white against a thick layer of Nimbostratus clouds, I’m leaning against the perimeter wall of my apartment, ice cold beer in hand and a lump in my throat. The raindrops are cold on my skin but I don’t mind, I’m still reeling from the hot barroom lights and my ears are ringing from the noisy amplifiers.
It’s been a busy two weeks. Rehearsals for the Giant Strides Reunion show, marketing, work functions and the farm… always the farm. The show at Sowaar Bar turned out great. Friends from all over came to support us and with their help we pulled off a decent show despite limited rehearsal time and other challenges. People sang along , danced and clapped in a humbling stream of support that sometimes almost left me speechless. We then, after the show, proceeded to make every effort to drink the bar clean out of tequila. I don’t know if we succeeded but it sure felt that way this morning. Now, here in the early summer rain, the mind wanders….
Revisiting these songs for the show took me back to the people and places where they were born. Most of those songs were lived, experienced and conceived in the Midwest. Mostly Wisconsin, Minnesota , Illinois and the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. With every note I was transported back to the Northwoods and its lakes, farms, backroads and highways. I thought of my friends that live there, the people that shaped my life and the ones that still haunt my dreams. It was a bittersweet experience and even though I’ve evolved as a songwriter, inhabiting new and other landscapes these days, I still find myself speaking of Wisconsin as my other home. I often wonder why. Sure, you could find a philosophical explanation in that it is the place where I spent my formative years, or where I first entered the realm of adulthood but I feel there’s something deeper. The landscape is littered with Scandinavian, German, Polish and Dutch immigrants. Hard working, resilient people that carved out a living in a brutally cold, unforgiving environment. I am of Dutch and German descent and while my ancestors had to face their own hardships here at the Southern tip of Africa I experienced a deep, mysterious kinship with the people of the Midwest. Perhaps some of my early ancestors also navigated the treacherous waters of Hudson Bay and the Great Lakes in search of a new life, the rest heading South toward the Cape of Good Hope.
Lately I have experienced a deep desire to go back, maybe stay for a while. Why am I denying this thing eating at my soul? I long to go back, learn more about the place and its people. I want to work the land, swim in its icy lakes and explore every small town and backroad. I want to learn how to survive the brutal winters and see the Northern Lights on perfectly clear autumn nights. I want to write songs and stories and make new friends while investing in my existing friendships. I want to see the landscape for what it is and for what it is not. Isn’t that how you know a place is home? When you’re able to love it not only for what is great but also for its shortcomings.
Perhaps I’ll find my heart, or what’s left of it, in the Northwoods. Put my pieces back together and allow the long summer sunsets to shine though the cracks in the brilliant hope of a brand new start.
“I wanna ask all the questions with answers we'll never know
I wanna find my faith in records from long ago
I wanna set fear on fire and give dreaming a fair shot
And never give up whether anybody cares or not”
- John Moreland -