A soft rain is falling on the city, the first rain of the season in these parts, and beautiful sheet lightning is filling the Northern sky. Overhead, airliners are diverting left and right dodging intense cells in a line of storms. I just got in from the farewell of one of my heroes, friends and mentors. He retired today after more than thirty years as an Air Traffic Controller. A person of very few words but an example of professionalism and skill. I had a few too many drinks with him today and I'm feeling the beers slowly creeping in. I don't really know what to make of this but I know that I am fortunate to call him my friend. There will be a void of experience and skill that can never be filled. I don't like saying goodbye.
Dennis Griffin was a veterinarian at Van Der Geest Dairy Cattle in Wausau Wisconsin. I met him in 2003 and worked as his assistant in the medbarn for three contracts. He was the first American to allow me into his home and family and allowed me to use his phone and computer to contact my parents back home. He taught me everything I know about cattle and bovine diseases and treatment. Always patient, always ready to offer advice. His farm became a safe haven for me and our passion for aviation made us fast friends. He took me to my first EAA Airventure in Oshkosh Wisconsin in 2005, the biggest airshow in the world. We slept in a tent among thousands of aircraft and we got lost in the beauty and history of aviation. We worked together at the annual Balloon Rally in Wausau and he introduced me to fellow aviators and friends. Dennis and I had countless conversations about our different worlds and passions and I always asked about his work as veterinarian during the Iditarod sled races in Alaska every year. He treated my friends like his friends. He was a multifaceted individual that was always willing to impart knowledge with humility and patience. Dennis died from primary sclerosing cholangitis, a rare disease that scars the bile ducts. He fought the disease for 32 months.
In 2018, during a Vagabonds tour I was introduced to a big, friendly Karoo farmer by my friend and band mate Gerhard. We were playing a fundraiser at his farm in the Seweweekspoort in the remote Karoo in the Western Cape. A place as harsh and unforgiving as it is majestic. The moment we shook hands and locked eyes I knew we were going to be friends forever. It was like we had known each other in a former life. A life where giants roamed the earth and Khoisan harvested honey from the sheer cliffs of the Swartberg. He listened, not to answer but to understand. He was kind and gracious but we all knew he was the Boss. His wife and beautiful daughters joined him in making us part of the family. His hospitality and heavy hand when pouring brandy at the fire is a thing legends are made of.
I returned in 2020 with my friend Byron and again in 2021 with my friends Jason and Cindy. We were treated like kings and our friendship just grew deeper. I said goodbye to them last October and promised that I would visit again soon....It was a beautiful spring morning and the mountains had a soft dusting of snow on them.
Jaco passed away last week after losing the battle with Covid. He was buried today. I couldn't be there but I imagine a cold Westerly howling down the Seweweekspoort , drying freshly cried tears on sunburnt cheeks. I was there in spirit. I have said my goodbyes and I'll be visiting the family soon. My heart is broken....
I decided that I will be shifting my attention to writing more "dinner theatre" production style shows as a whole. I love playing gigs and I always play as if it is my last but I have decided to pivot to something more suited to the genre and style that I am finding myself in. I'm busy writing the story of Midwestern Dreams and putting together a set of songs that will make up a production that will be performed in a tiny historical theatre and shared on YouTube with, hopefully, an audience that appreciates the work. I've been trying to share my songs and stories in the conventional way of performing at bars, coffee shops and festivals but I am getting the message. This world and the majority of it's people do not give a fuck about folk music and storytelling. Most people want to be entertained by bubblegum lyrics or sit at home watching reality TV. They want to be entertained by a chest thumping charlatan doing Neil Diamond covers and singing to electronic backtracks. I'm no longer trying to reach you, to try and make you listen. You won't miss my contribution and that is fine. I'll still be out there from time to time playing my songs. I'll still be making music and writing songs regardless of what happens or doesn't happen.
This month I was once again reminded of just how little time we have on this earth. I was reminded that every moment could be our last. I was reminded to never take a moment with friends or family for granted for it might be the last time you lock eyes, or shake hands. I also learnt that not all people that claim to be friends are sincere in their intentions and conduct.
I've decided to let my friends sign my old Gibson J45. Sort of the way that Willie Nelson had people sign his guitar named Trigger. That way I will always have part of their heart and soul on the instrument that I make their memories and stories flow through. I will carry them with me on the long dusty roads of the Karoo, the dense forests of the Wild Coast and the majestic pines of the Northwoods. They will be with me in small desert towns and empty bars when I sit down in the corner, pour another bourbon and try to touch another heart.
JB