The Power of Water

(added this pic in response to recent question)
This, folks, is an erhu:

Here's something that has been resonating with me lately. And it has nothing and everything to do with music.

First, does anyone recall me giving props to water at a show any time in the last year or so? Well, I have. Pretty frequently. It probably started from needing to say something on the mic while others were tuning or whatever, but also needing a drink of water. As y'all know, I lose a lot of water in the form of sweat during a show, so I need to replenish. Ever since the first time, I find myself talking about water almost every show. (I said something Friday night, even.) Anyway, I recognize its importance even if I still probably need to drink more every day.

Last fall, Phil took all us Wilders to see this film/documentary called "What the Bleep Do We Know?" -- it's mostly about quantum physics, but also mostly about who we all are and why we are and how we can be... there was a little segment in there that showed photomicrographs of water crystals. The researcher, Masaru Emoto, had pictures of water that had been shown information. Like, "Love". Water responds to ~hado~, or vibrations. It can come in the form of the written word, or spoken, and also through music or images.

Many of the interviewees in the film have written books and I always meant to check some out. But honestly, as life keeps on going, it's easy to pass by and not follow through. You know how it is.

So, when we were in Middlebury, Vermont last month, we had a couple of hours to kill before the show. Everybody went their own way... we were staying in a beautiful inn, right downtown, and I took a walk down the street to window shop. I went into a bookstore and glanced at new releases. There was a book from Emoto, "The True Power of Water". I picked it up and started reading it that night.

Finding this book is a turning point for me. I won't try to summarize it for you. But you can check out the link (in the title) for yourself. I believe in the power of water. I'm going to read Emoto's other books now, and every morning I thank my water before and after I drink it.

You should try it, too.

Are there any questions?

Would it surprise many of you to learn that I've grown very bored writing and posting our road stories? I'll bet not, considering that my last post was an exhaustive essay on modern outhouses. In fact, I was just discussing this blog last weekend with one of my great old friends, Bill Rexroad, at the Santa Rosa Tick Festival. I told him that, anymore, the story is pretty much always the same: We check out of our motel in the morning, we drive all day, we arrive at the gig on time (usually), we wait around, we play a great show (usually), the audience likes it a lot (usually), and then we go check into a motel, rinse and repeat. The exciting days of trying to resuscitate The Chief each day are over and I just don't think I have much to write about that would be of interest to anyone anymore.

I was a little surprised when Mr. Rexroad admonished me for my poor attitude toward the blog. He said that people really enjoy reading about what we do, where we are etc. So, out of my sincere respect for Bill AND since I'm home for a few weeks, I'd like to ask you folks who are reading this, what do you want to know? What can I tell you that you don't already know? Is there a story, particularly, that you want to read? Is there anything that I've written about that you'd like more information on?

I'll pay attention to your posts and try to respond accordingly. Thanks for reading.

Portajohn

This year marks about a dozen years that I've been attending bluegrass festivals. At the beginning, I was a talentless, but enthusiastic fan who avidly lived and breathed the music-forgoing showers, comfort and shelter, day and night, to immerse myself in the rural musical culture. Now, as a full-time working musician, I'm living on the other end of the spectrum- rarely sleeping in the same place more than two nights in a row, living a nomadic existence from one Motel X to the next, expecting (and receiving) golf cart rides to get my instruments through the thickened crowd into the backstage area, and, of course, hobnobbing with the bluegrass royalty etc.. But throughout my varied festival experiences, one thing has remained consistent from day one: the humble Portajohn. From the Adirondacks to the Rockies, from the northern plains to the swampy bottomland of the southern delta, no matter where a bluegrass festival happens to be, the Portajohn is there.

For those who've never had the pleasure of the experience, I'll report that there is an amazing consistency in Portajohn design. Here's the basics: There's a door (with a working lock- hopefully). There is a plastic seat (ideally in the "up" position). There is a roll of toilet paper mounted to the wall. There are air vents sliced throughout the ceiling for much-needed ventilation. And finally, there is the hole- the bottom of which is filled with a strange and nebulous blue liquid. This liquid is provided, mercifully, in an attempt to mask the odor of its soupy contents. It's a no-frills place to be, for sure. If it's hot outside, it's 20 degrees hotter inside the John (which gives a new meaning to "sweating out the poisons"). True, it's not particularly pleasant, but if you've got to go (and you have no other choice), it works. The only discernible difference between one Portajohn and the next, in my opinion, is in the thoughtful extras that some of the nicer models offer its bluegrass citizens. For instance, it's becoming standard to have a hand-sanitizing dispenser mounted to the wall by the door. This allows you to feel a little better if your mom taught you to always wash your hands after using the bathroom. On rare occasions, I've even experienced the "executive washroom unit", which has actual soap, water AND paper towels. Also, many of the newer models now have a built in urinal on the wall. This feature saves a lot of disgusting wiping up if the seat is found in the "down" position. But innovation can sometimes result in confusion. A few years ago, for example, this simple, but effectively designed, elongated half-funnel shaped revolutionary feature was mistaken by a female festival patron who believed it to have a completely different function. The poor, misinformed woman lodged a complaint with the festival management on her way home-reporting that, "SOME rude person has been PEEING in the PURSE HOLDERS!" We about fell off of our plastic seats when we heard that one.

Yes, the lowly Portajohn is the industry standard of the bluegrass cosmos. It's most festival organizer's top pick when facilitating the personal elimination of their ticket-holders. Smaller festivals, like the type we cut our teeth on in Iowa so many years ago, might choose to just scatter a half dozen of these injection molded beauties throughout the camping area. In contrast, the larger festivals we find ourselves playing more recently, tend to herd their Portajohns into a sort of militaristic rectangular latrine common-area where festival attendees can gather, talk, poop and pee with abandon. Clearly, cleaning and service is an important component to consider here. If the festival provides too few cleanings over a busy weekend, you might think twice before prolonging your visit. In my checkered bluegrass festival memory, I know that on many a Sunday afternoon, I chose to save it for home when I opened up a particularly foul smelling door. For my money, the Walnut Valley Festival in Winfield Kansas, has the best Portajohn service on the bluegrass planet. These folks have human waste disposal down to a science. The Winfield festival regularly draws somewhere around 18,000 people (give or take 5,000) over 4 days, with many attendees camping for a week before AND AFTER the actual festival. Give a chimpanzee a pencil, and he'd quickly figure out the math of that many people, over that many days, with only so many plastic boxes to do their business in. The monkey's sum is this: a lot of banana peels, a LOT. But in my over 10 years of Winfield festivals, I've rarely walked into a Portajohn that didn't inspire me to hang out for awhile, because it just smelled so fresh and delightful. Here's why: there is an army patrol of suck-trucks combing the campgrounds during the daylight hours, cleaning every dang Portajohn in the place like ants on an abandoned picnic spread. These guys, wearing biceps-high rubber gloves, do some seriously unpleasant work so that you, the festival patron (no doubt filled to the brim with ears of roasted corn and onion burgers), can relax and unwind in minty-cool mountain freshness. It is because of this, that each year at Winfield, I always go out of my way to say thanks to these forgotten heroes of the festival when I spot them working the row of Portajohns closest to my tent.

And, I've got to say it, I love how the Portajohn experience is so democratic. Because regardless of what you might think folks, when your favorite bluegrass star hears the call of the number one or two, nine times out of ten, they will take care of nature at the festival the same way you do- in a hot and smelly plastic box, the only difference being that it's located behind the stage with a sign on the door that says, "for artists only".

This fact came home to me last September at Winfield. We were tuning up just minutes before our evening performance on the main stage, and I thought it prudent to empty my bladder before we went on. I walked over to the backstage Portajohn and, in the low light, did not see that it was occupied. I yanked on the door, found it locked, and stepped off a few paces to wait my turn. After a few minutes, the door swung open and out walked the female lead singer of a pretty danged famous band who had played onstage earlier. Professional courtesy prevents me from revealing her identity but she was clearly embarrassed when she saw me standing there, and we exchanged insincere pleasantries as she quickly moved past. I opened the door and was horrified by the stench that lay in wait for me. I thought to myself, "have they not cleaned this thing all weekend?" As I pointed out earlier, when deep-fried festival food is consumed, processed and eliminated over several days, the receiving Portajohn can really take on a life of it's own. But still, this seemed to be more of a localized and specific odor. In fact, I had used the same John earlier that day, and it had been as clean and fresh as an alpine meadow. This particular putridness undoubtedly belonged to my famous, and thus justifiably mortified predecessor. Holding my breath for a few minutes, I did my business as quickly as possible and then got the heck out of there. As I grabbed up my instruments and headed up on to the stage, I couldn't stop laughing.

The next time I encounter this "secret stinker" at a festival, I'll undoubtedly smile, exchange the usual pleasantries and be courteous. But deep in my brain's nasal memory tissues, I'll recall, with uncomfortable accuracy, the awful stench of that night, connect it once again with her face, and undoubtedly burst into laughter.

We shared something that night, just the two of us- something indescribable. And the humble Portajohn was there to frame the event in my molded plastic memory for all time.

Here we go again

In an effort to keep the numbers of comments per blog under 60, I herby submit a new place for y'all to post on.

I've not really been keeping up very well, have I? At least brotherphil is making good in his efforts to keep the updates coming. Let me see if I can provide a few updates, some of which are asked for in the last blog...

July 3 was indeed rained out. I was heading down there with some friends about 7:30 and saw they were directing traffic out of the park, none in. We got up to the rain-slickered police officer -- I rolled down my window, informed him I was a performer (that was probably obvious, due to my being all dressed up snazzy in black, including my new black slinky rayon cowgirl shirt, resplete with rhinestoney details) -- he said sorry, they called it off due to the big storm coming, couldn't I tell that from the lightning every 5 seconds, the enormous dark clouds and ominous wind? Oh, I might have made up that last part. Anyway, sorry if any of you were out there and had to hightail it home. I was looking forward to the live televised part! Oh well.

August 4 will indeed feature us in Westport. I just updated our schedule page tonight. We're on at 9 pm at the Beaumont Club. I think you pay $5 and can go to all the showcases that night. Our friends The Afterparty were also nominated (Best New Act) and are also playing at the Beaumont later that night. Cool. And here's what's cool for us -- while we've been nominated for like the last 5 years for Best Country/Bluegrass Act, this year we found ourselves in a new category -- Best Live Act! Don't cha think that's cool? The best part of all is that YOU can vote! Check out my political activism!


VOTE HERE!

I just did! You probably have to "complete the verification process" for your vote to count, so please follow through if'n you're willing to vote at all, ok? Now, let's have a winning ticket, folks!

Caught up as I was just now in my celebration of this country's rights (left over from Independence Day), I now forget whatever else I intended to update from your various posts. It's always an adventure hearing all your stories, and glad you all are still with us, escaping horrors daily. May they be much fewer and farther between for all...

The Wilders go west, again...

June 11th, 2005-Canton, South Dakota:
A couple of summers ago, we played the Sioux River Folk Festival at this beautiful South Dakota state park location. We apparently made enough of an impact that they invited us back to play a fund raiser. From various conversations with some of the volunteers, the organizers are trying to get enough dough together to move a historic building into the state park to serve as a lodge. I'm not sure if I got all the details correct, but the building that they want to move was part of a mental institution that formerly housed "crazy indians". The guy who told me this actually made quotation marks in the air with his fingers when he said "crazy". He went on to explain that incorrigibles, few with mental illness beyond alcoholism, were regularly shipped to the nut house if they were causing problems on the reservation. To say the least, I am curious about the possible ghosts that might still inhabit this place and am looking forward to staying there if we get invited back.

But on to the show...
South Dakotans love their bluegrass and country music and we had no problem getting the small crowd bouncing in their lawn chairs for the early evening concert. At the end of the set (as was reported deep in the last set of comments), about 50 people got up and moved down to the lip of the stage to dance and scream their heads off. We finished the show at sunset by forgoing amplification and singing "Catfish Blues" right in their faces. Betse played her fiddle solos on her knees right in front of some lucky kids who will no doubt bug their parents for a fiddle for the rest of the summer. In short, it was a great way to start the tour.

Tuesday, June 14th, 2005-Moab, Utah:
Moab is the closest place to mars that I will probably ever get to go. Volcanism, wind and water have teamed up over millions of years to create a landscape that is dizzying in it's beauty. it's a funky place that attracts mountain bikers, river runners, motorcyclists, 4-wheelers etc. etc. Thus, with so much outdoor activity available, the visitors and residents of Moab have an almost orange color from deep and long exposure to the desert sun. We played an art fair in Moab as a pickup gig last summer and the organizers of the fair invited us back to play a proper concert this time at a renovated theater downtown called Star Hall. It was a great space with just the right amount of seats to make the small hall feel packed. We rocked and rolled for two sets giving the audience a good taste of what we do before closing it down with Nate's original tune "Honky Tonk Habit". Several folks came up to us after the show to talk and buy cd's. But one woman waited until the rest of the crowd left before moving in. She told me that she hadn't listened to country music for many, many years because it reminded her too much of her deceased father. She was noticeably emotional and I thanked her for her kind words before sending her out into the cool desert air with a smile on her face and several cd's in her hands. Country music reaches people on many different levels in many different ways. I'm regularly surprised by the impact our shows seem to have on people. I mean, basically we just jump around like a bunch of sugared up monkeys. But, like this Moab woman who missed her father, I think we oftentimes tap into a memory, a feeling, a connection that touches our audience deeply without us really even being aware of it. It's sort of scary and wonderful all at the same time.

Thursday, June 16th, 2005-Telluride, Colorado:
Ok, so why did we go to South Dakota, then Moab? Because we needed practice before hitting the biggest, most prestigious bluegrass festival in the west- TELLURIDE. After the southeast tour, the four of us used our precious three weeks off to get to know our families again, paint our houses, move personal belongings from one storage unit to another, go fishing and attend a fiddler's convention in Mt. Airy N.C. So we needed these two shows to get our game back for this huge festival at the foot of the 14,000 foot peaks of Colorado's San Juan Mountains. There was no shortage of hospitality provided for us. They put us up in a 3 story ski lodge with a jacuzzi, full kitchen, and private bathrooms for all. For transportation, we could call for a van or take three different gondola cars up and over the 10,580 foot mountain pass into town. Remember folks, this is a band who, until fairly recently, brought camping equipment to festivals. The downside to this beautiful place (for us flatlanders) is that there was no dang air to breathe. We all started feeling the altitude as we drove up and up and up to our lodge. Once there, it was an effort to carry our luggage into our rooms without getting out of breath. As is often the case in our band, this afforded an excellent opportunity for an Wilders "man challenge". Over the years, we have killed eons of time by challenging each other to various on-the-spot-sporting/ eating endeavors. Apple eating, underwater swimming as well as motel wrestling matches have been known to happen when we get bored and Betse usually has the common sense to avoid these childish acts (with the exception of her legendary surprise wrestling attacks). So Ike suggested that, for fun, we race each other up the side of the mountain to a bridge that was about 150 yards away. The grade of the hill was only about 20% but we were starting the race at over 9,000 feet above sea level. His only rule was that if you stopped, you had to stay where you were. The word GO was yelled and the race was on. It must have been pretty funny to anyone looking out of their condo to see three out-of-shape guys in cowboy boots lumbering up the trail. Nate and Ike immediately began a sprint while I laid back choosing the tortoise to their hare. I was starting to doubt my strategy due to their enormous lead when Nate suddenly stopped about 30 yards ahead of me (but still well short of the bridge) doubled over and panting, Ike made it a few steps past him to guarantee that he at least wouldn't be last in the competition before stopping too, doubled over and gasping for breath. Although I was getting winded too, I just kept plugging along until I caught up with the both of them and then kept going for another 50 feet or so before giving out too. As I walked back down the hill, I thought I would never catch my breath again. Incidentally, no one won the contest because none of us made it to the bridge.
But we didn't come to Telluride to fool around, we came to play and play we did. Our noon set on the main stage afforded us the opportunity to make a good first impression. Although the crowd seemed a little sleepy (probably from waiting in line half the night to claim their spot), there were audible swells as we furiously tried to tear up the stage. This is one of the largest audiences we've ever played to and we made the most of it for our 75 minutes. Later in the afternoon, we played another short set on the workshop stage in town and whipped the sunburnt crowd into a frenzy with a possessed version of The Golden Gate Quartet's "My Time's Done Come". Then we had a few hours to rest before a long final set at Fly Me to the Moon Saloon. This late night bar show is part of Telluride's Night-grass music series and it was our last chance to make an impression on the crowd before leaving the festival. Lets just say that all the hours in the van, the stress of performing on the main stage, lack of food and rest and a general feeling of exhaustion all worked to create an unstable rocket fuel that exploded on the little stage as soon as we hit the first note. Our energy level was as high as it gets as we ripped from one tune to the next as the crowd went crazy. After 60 minutes everyone was on their feet crammed up against the stage and loving it. We took a short break and were joined for the next two hours by our producer and new pal, Dirk Powell, who took our show up a notch by borrowing Betse's second fiddle and ripping some crazy cajun/honky tonk riffs on his button accordion. By the end of the show, most of the people who were within 10 feet of the stage (both men and women) had removed theirs shirts and were dripping in sweat. I'd say that we made an impression.

Motels, Motels, Motels

For those who have been reading these rambling updates for over a year now, I'm here to report that things have drastically changed for The Wilders. With The Chief in long term dry dock and with the addition of a nifty 4x6 foot bright red trailer tagging behind the Brown Clown (our Ford Econoline conversion van), we are able to move about the country at 70+ miles per hour carrying everything we need except our beds. It's cramped and smelly and we start to go out of our gourds after about 8 hours, but it's efficient and fast and, most of all, a quite reliable way to get from one end of the country to the other. Yes folks, we have become a band of motel dwellers. We drive all day and when we get to where we are going, we pull almost everything of importance to us out of the van and trailer and lug it into our motel rooms for the night. Hopefully the nonsmoking rooms don't stink of smoke (or worse, Febreez- what the hell are they trying to cover up anyway?) Hopefully the motel has a continental breakfast in the morning that, at least, offers some fresh fruit. Hopefully the water pressure is decent and you don't get scalded if the person in the room next to you flushes the toilet. Hopefully the beds are clean and the pillows aren't so big and fluffy that you wake up in the morning with a sore neck. And hopefully, the toilet paper is softer than 60 grit sandpaper. These are the things that you think about while you are waiting to check in. Out of pure monetary motivation, we are partial to the Motel 6 chain, but, on occasion, we will stay at the mom and pop type places too if that's what we can afford. For example, last week we stayed at a funky place in Missouri Valley, Iowa called the Rath Inn. We arrived after midnight and checked into the only room they had, a smoking suite with 4 beds! It was a curious, smelly, but ultimately comfortable place to spend about 8 hours. Please understand folks that this is a really weird way to live- moving from one room to another loading and unloading our stuff throughout the country. But sometimes it's comfortable and you never have to stand in line to take a shower.

Contest Results!

Thanks to all who participated -- I'll be compiling a scrapbook of everything you sent! Eventually it would be fun to have an online scrapbook and I'll keep you posted.

Here's the winning photo! Taken by Mary B. (yes, she is our agent, but everyone was eligible) This was taken at Merlefest, and yes it does include Dirk Powell (but that's not why it won)



Here's why I made this #1. The framing of the shot is so dang cool. It just so happened in this instance that having Dirk there on the far right made for such a natural frame, and look at the movement on the right & the left w/ Ike. Yes, the mic is almost in the way. But not enough to kill it. Yes, my face is a little blurry. But look, Ma, no background (practically)! However, the final key ingredient for a winning photo is here: ACTION. An image that gives an idea of what you see when you see us perform... the excitement, the energy, that Wilders Thing... you can see it, right? Well, I can!

And, I am using it in the No Depression ad... with the help of a filter, the blurs don't matter anymore:



Congratulations, Mary! This is gonna look so cool in print. It's gonna be black and white, fyi.

There are several notable runners-up, and if you will each email me your snail mailing address, I'll make sure you get something special, too.

This one was a joint effort from Tammy & Rina... Taken just this past Sunday at the Replay Lounge in Lawrence... the action makes it notable... we're really leaning into it!




Here's one from Kim R. From Winfield 2004. I like the side angle for something different.




This one is from Dana. Also from Winfield 2004. For those who know us, it should be evident this was taken at the gospel set!




And, honorable mention goes to Loudon T. Also from Merlefest. I LOVE the action and if we'd seen Nate in the pic... anyway, it's fun!



Hope y'all enjoy seeing these! And even though THIS contest is over, I always love getting pics of us. Send 'em any time!

Photo contest!

Well, gang,

Since brotherphil is extra busy (that dude is hardly ever NOT busy), I offer a new header, new photo, but no real news. However, I do have a new contest! Whoo-hoo!



This photo was sent by Jeremy Rosenshine who was at the Greeley Roundup... Thanks Jer. Anyone else have some from last weekend?

OK -- here's the contest. I am looking for a good live image of us to use in our next ad for No Depression. (that's an alt-country magazine, not a psychological journal) I don't have anything I'm real excited about for that purpose yet. The best kind of photo would have not much going on in the background, and needs to show all our faces, and needs to be in focus. That's tough, I know! I need this photo no later than Monday, May 23, in order to use it.

If YOU have a good recent photo of us that you would like to submit for this use, you may win yourself an autographed photo of us (our Official Promotional Photo -- these are not for sale)! So, here are the guidelines -- in order to win, you gotta pay attention to these!

* Photo must be in digital format. (Scanned is ok)
* Photo must be at least 500K and no larger than 3 MB at time of sending. Jpg format preferred.
* Must show each Wilder's face (that's the biggest challenge -- gotta see Nate!)
* Does not have to be an on-stage photo.
* Must be taken no earlier than August 2004.
* Must be sent to: bewilder@kc.net no later than 1 pm, Monday, May 23.
* The most favorite photo will be considered for use in the ND ad. The winner will receive an autographed picture of the Wilders!
* Winner's photo and runners-up will also be posted here on the blog.
* This contest is my spur-of-the-blog-moment idea and therefore is entirely subjective -- my favorite will win!

As an example -- though I enjoy the photo above, it would not win the contest (sorry, Jer, nothing personal!). We are not quite in focus (another challenge when capturing us in a show, I know!); Ike's face is too shadowed (though I can do some work with that in Photoshop); and the background w/ the Greeley banner makes it really hard to get rid of the background (which I'd need to do for the ad). Also a preferred photo would be more of a close-up on the band (I can crop, but that's more manipulation and lower resolution potentially). Hopefully this will help clarify what I'm looking for.

Also, though, if your photo of us doesn't fit the requirements, you can still send it for fun! Just please keep it no larger than 1 MB for the fun ones. I'm still living with dialup slow-mo modem.

All right! This'll be fun!

Any questions?

Ants are taping names at Merlefest

We've been home for almost a week and it seems only natural that we're leaving this weekend... in fact I'm looking forward to it... though I must say I'm glad to only pack for a few days this time. That's one of the hardest things for tme is trying to decide what to bring -- I like to be prepared for about anything and that makes for some heavy baggage!

So a few responses are due here...

- Ants. Last summer on our first long tour, I parked my car at our friend Kc's house, in his driveway by his back yard. Specifically, on this concrete slab next to his driveway which was mostly covered in grass and some vines and such... it's not used often. When I picked up my car after it sat there for a month, I noticed a few ants on the door or somewhere. Drove it home and the next day when I opened my door, I saw a multitude of ants in the inside of the door, at the floor level.

For those of you who don't already know this, I am not exactly happy about lots of bugs being around me.

Well, I swept those ants out and maybe later that day I opened the passenger door. Same story over there. Ick. More sweeping. Even more ants coming out the hood of the car and around the back hatch as well. I got some ant traps and some killer spray and spent the next number of days spraying and sweeping and almost weeping from frustration. They weren't coming out the vents, but they did start making a move toward the center of the car and I was feeling like I was living in some kind of horror movie. I don't remember all the details -- I try to block out yucky things like that from my memory -- but my friend Kim (S., not W.) said she would help me out and bomb it with some of that ant-and-pest-heavy-duty-bug-bomb-type-stuff when we left again (maybe a week or so later). About all I remember after that was that the bomb didn't work when I talked to Kim. However, a couple of days after the bombing, Kim's partner Mark said to her that he would talk to the ants and simply ask them to leave. Now, if anyone has the power to do that, it would probably be Mark (and maybe, Baby Gramps). And you had better believe that those ants took off. End of story, I'm telling the truth as it was told to me and I have no reason not to believe it.

A related story about me and bug phobias took place last year at Tick Fest. No, the pest wasn't a tick but was a wasp nest. There are always lots of wasps at the ranch and that's almost scarier to me than ticks. Well, throughout the weekend I went in and out of the ranch house and maybe once noticed a wasp flying around the door when I entered. I just tried to pretend I wasn't scared (they can smell it, you know) and then tried to forget about it. I never knew about the nest until Kim and Mark told me, and I think they might have told me after the ants were asked to leave my car. Cause, you see, Mark had talked to the wasps too, and had asked them to not bother me, and in return, they could keep their nest where they'd put it, right over the door of the ranch.

Thanks, Mark.

- Merlefest. After a hard month of touring and making no money, this was about the best reward we could have gotten. I may try to write a whole post about it but for now, I will say that the response we got was really probably the highest powered, most exuberant, and genuinely rewarding experience for me, anyway. I mean, we've gotten some great love from audiences, from our dear friends here at home to new audiences like Wintergrass earlier this year... but standing up after a few songs? Whoa mule! I still shake my head in amazement when I think about it.

In conclusion, thanks to everyone at Merlefest -- we talked to so many awesome folks and I also want to welcome our new groopers!

This brings us to another response:

- Taping. And photographing. Or videoing. We are absolutely okay with it. If that ever changes, we'll get the word out. But all we ask is that you share the goodies with us. We'll give you an address if you talk to us at a show. I don't know what the Greeley fest rules are, but I'd bet that it's okay there. I think very few festivals are like Winfield in that regard.

We actually really enjoy hearing our shows because it helps us to learn more about how we're doing. We are now posting live stuff on our Listen page and have used tracks done by others there, and that's fun for anyone who's visiting the site.

The only thing that would not be okay (and I don't think this is happening, but just in case) is for anyone to tape our show and then sell it. Cause that hurts us, ouch. We won't sell what you tape unless we talk to you about it first, but we wouldn't plan for that anyway. But we would like the option of posting mp3s on our site if that's okay with you.

OK? Great! And please come up and introduce yourself this weekend! Or any other time, for the rest of you.

- What about the name game??

I must say that brophil's contest sure brought out the creative side in all of you. There were some interesting suggestions! This is Phil's contest and hmmm, he never did say which one he or we liked best, did he? But did you notice that it was whichever name that was liked the best, and that name would not necessarily become the van's name? It's implied but not implicit.... I wonder how many of you are shocked right now! Anyway, take a deep breath. We kinda played around with some names on the road but nothing worked or felt right. We kinda decided that we'd just let a name happen rather than work on it too hard. Then on our last night at Merlefest, I was talking to Nate and it just came out... we were talking about McDonald's for some reason. Who cares, except that it's an inside band joke cause we do try to avoid eating there -- we call it the Brown Clown, or sometimes the Brown Frown (which is a derogatory expression for the aftereffects of eating there)... this is necessary for you to understand what happened next. I said, hey, that's the van! The Brown Clown! It made us both laugh and the next day on the way home we made it official. But we didn't christen it with a big mac or anything! I don't know, this story came out awkwardly but at the time it was funny and see, this van is not quite as closely beloved to us as even Gladys (our first van) was. We don't want to get too attached to it. The Clown is going to help us to get to the next transportation level, and then it's seeyalateralligator.

Any other answers or questions?

Take a walk on the bright side

Well, it's drizzling today as we get ready to leave Athens OH. I heard it's gonna be rainy and cold this weekend in Pittsburg PA. Maybe snow on Sunday! But we all don't need more darkness in our lives. Lord knows we all have enough challenges and so here are a few things that I can think of on the bright side of this tour leg.

Got to meet my 1 year old neice. My brother and his family moved to Johnson City, TN, just in time for us to come there and play. My nephews are 7 and almost 6 and I haven't seen them in at least two years (they were living in England while my brother had a job over there). I had some fun conversations with my oldest nephew, Clay, and his brother Edgar was surprisingly astute and observant. And Evie just has a permanent grin on her face -- how lovely.

We got to play a song with Julie Lee in Nashville. She's got the voice of an angel and the disposition of a saint. Look her up on the web -- she has a beautiful site as well as spirit.

Saw some great music in Atlanta. Capt. Soular Cat wowed us on the main stage before our set at Dogwood. Those guys rock. Hope to see them again. Then, that night, we all thought we'd found Mark Smeltzer's long-lost uncle or something when we saw Baby Gramps. Oh... my... can't hardly describe him but you should just try to find him in concert or get his DVD if you want to be amazed.

Driving through the Smoky Mountain National Park. Rain couldn't spoil this beauty.

Seeing my friend Aimee (we've been friends since college, 19 years) and her husband, and their new baby Ian. Ian is teething but it's a wonder to meet him and see this lovely family grow.

Woodsongs Show. That was a real experience and I hope we can do it again. It's archived too if you missed it.

That's a start anyway and you know what? the rain has stopped at least for now. Good sign and also time to check out.

Check out some beauty of your own today -- just keep your eyes and mind open and you will most likely be pleasantly surprised.

Paying Dues

It's embarrassing that I haven't written a single word since we entered British Columbia. We were gone from KC for over 5 weeks and I barely got us to Tacoma, Washington. That was the FIRST WEEKEND. So many things happened before and after. But I've pretty much dug myself in a hole from which I will never climb out. Much as I want to continue the "We Tried" story, I just can't bring myself to write another word about it. So, until I get over the writer's block, I decided to simply try to get everybody up to speed on our current tour. Thanks to my dad's eagle eyes, we found and purchased a 1997 Ford Econoline conversion van with emergency funds thankfully loaned to us by Big Guy Loans in Fayetteville, Arkansas. Our old friend Leo loaned us a 4x6 trailer to haul all our crap and, with the last minute addition of a trailer hitch and license plates, away we went. So what follows is what's happened since. Those seeking thoughtful prose may just as well give up and go read a good book. But for everybody else, here's the Reader's Digest version...


Thursday, April 7th: Played The Station Inn in Nashville Tennessee for the first time. This is the preeminent bluegrass club in Music City. Opening was our new pal, Julie Lee, who we met last October at IBMA in Louisville. We all jumped in with her on "Stillhouse Road", before doing our own thing in front of a small, but receptive audience. Thunderstorms pounded Nashville for the entire show.

Friday, April 8th: Played The Down Home in Johnson City, Tennessee. A smaller but more enthusiastic crowd (of mostly employees) rocked and rolled with us all night. Everybody told us, "next time you come here, the place will be packed!". Then we squeezed into our new van and drove all night to Atlanta. We arrived at about 6am just before the sun came up. Uhhhgggg.

Saturday, April 9th: Played two shows at the Atlanta Dogwood Festival. Once again, weather kept the crowds away. But we made some new friends and sold some CD's before regrouping for a show with blues-woman, Donna Hopkins at The Mambo Room in downtown Atlanta. The highlight of the show was the opening act, Baby Gramps. I can't possibly try to describe what this guy does. I'll just say that he played a strange form of solo blues that left the entire band gape-mouthed and screaming at the tops of our lungs.

Sunday, April 10th: Played a set at The Red Light Cafe' in Atlanta with our friend Paul Snyder's old band, Whoa Nelly. Not too many people came to this one either but we had fun regardless. After the gig, we repacked the van and drove to a very sketchy Motel 6 by the airport for some much needed rest.

Monday, April 11th: Played a few tunes on a local Atlanta community radio station before heading out on the highway for a short drive to Athens, Georgia. After the Motel 6 the night before, we decided to treat ourselves to a slightly more expensive Best Western just out of downtown. Betse and lucked out but Ike and Nate had to move to three times before settling for a "only slightly stinky" room.

Tuesday, April 12th: Played a set at Tasty World in downtown Athens between a world music fusion group called The Would Be Farmers and local Athens bluegrass heroes The Packway Handle Band. Continuing the trend, there were few people attending but those that were there were very pleased by our performance. Mercifully, the owner of the club gave us $50 for gas money after the show.

Wednesday, April 13th: Left Athens for Knoxville, Tennessee. Drove through Smoky Mountain National Park. Due to weather, not much in the way of Mountains were seen. There was plenty of smoke, however. With tax day looming over us, we checked into a Comfort Inn advertising high speed wireless internet which turned out to be completely fictional due to an electrical storm which affected their connection. Laptops were pulled out and tax software was anguished over for the rest of the night.

Thursday, April 14th: Tax anguish continued the next morning before we suited up and headed to play The Blue Plate Special lunchtime show on WDVX in Knoxville with Tony Furtado. Despite the early show, we turned in a solid performance and (hopefully) made many new fans amongst the listeners of this popular live show. Then it was back to the Comfort Inn for more numbers crunching. Everybody's stomach hurt by bedtime. Moral of this story: self employment taxes are punishing.

Friday, April 15th: Woke up early to finish printing tax forms. Then it was back to downtown Knoxville for banking and mailing. The stress seemed to melt away as each envelope slid through the wall.

Now we are back on the road en-route to Boone, N.C. We have a show there tonight and another tomorrow in Asheville, N.C. In the wise words of our friend Seamus McGreevy, "It's a hard life, but it's a good life too."







Postscript:
As yet, the van is still unnamed. So, for the rest of this tour we will entertain your thoughts on the subject. The person who submits the van name we like the best will win an assortment of live Wilders recordings from the western "We Tried" tour.

We Tried: Part Four

For the next 5 hours, everyone tried to sleep as best as they could in the cramped mini-van while I worked to put some serious distance between The Wilders and our 30 foot home-away-from-home. My eyes were burned out due to exhaustion and the intermittent rain but I focused them on a truck just ahead of us, allowing the driver to lead my way into the New Mexico morning. With the dawn approaching, I stopped for gas near the Arizona border and handed the keys to Nate. I don't remember much from that point on, but I soon awoke to see the brown landscape of Tucson out the window.

We arrived at the Voyager RV Resort at around 10:30am, met by Tucson angel, Don Meyer (see "Desert Angels II, Tucson, AZ"-June 13, 2004 in our blog archives for our first meeting with this fine gentleman) Don took our weary crew out to breakfast and then we returned to his RV to get organized for our flight and take some much needed showers. Don and his wife, Kay, had offered to take us to the Tucson airport and we gladly accepted their generosity, frankly glad to be rid of the responsibility of driving or repairing vehicles for the next few days. They dropped us at the Alaska Air terminal and we headed toward the airport security checkpoint. As a precautionary measure, we had planned to carry our instruments all the way to the gate so that they could be loaded on to the plane last on top of the rest of the baggage. We took off our shoes and piled our carry on luggage on the conveyer belt and as we sent our cases through the X-ray, I heard one officer shout, "They've got tools!". Also, the new pair of Levis that I wore through the metal detecter set off an alarm and I was taken aside, wanded and patted down while I watched one of the officers leaving with my banjo case. After a pair of my wire cutters, a small banjo wrench and Ike's multi-tool were confiscated, we were allowed to continue on into the boarding area. The exhaustion and stress were evident on everyone's faces but soon we were sitting, like lumps of drying clay, in the boarding area waiting for our plane.

We Tried: Part Three

It was about 5:30pm when the boys ran off to fetch an electric fuel pump and some additional parts while April took me to the nearby town of Los Lunos, NM to pick up a mini-van. Although I held on to the hope that the boys would still be able to fix the venerable Chieftain, Betse and I agreed that it would be wise to rent the van as an precautionary measure against the worst case scenario. You see, we HAD to be in Tucson, Arizona (about an 8 hour drive) by noon the next day in order to catch our flights to Tacoma, Washington to debut at the Tacoma "Wintergrass" Festival. Not only was this a fantastic opportunity to introduce ourselves to the Northwest bluegrass audience, it was also our first decent pay of the tour AND an opportunity to sell a lot of c.d.'s. Since we had already spent a great deal on the Chief just getting it ready for the road, it was crucial that we make this gig- no matter what...

By the time I got back to the restaurant parking lot, the remaining light of the day had disappeared over the western mountains replaced by a menacing black cloud filled with freezing rain and just starting to soak the asphalt. I parked, and as I stepped out of the van, I saw a white sedan parked nose-to-nose with the Chief with the stereo blaring from it's open doors. I immediately recognized the tune, "Run to the Hills", by Iron Maiden. I heard a muffled yell from underneath, "Nate. Start it up!" . This was followed quickly by, "Turn it off, Turn it OFF!" Apparently, Nappy had been holding the fuel pump wires and since he was now lying in icy water, he had been shocked badly. Within a few minutes, a small, but powerfully framed man with closely cropped hair crawled out from under the RV. Nappy was all business but said a quick hello to me before stepping back inside the Chief. I followed him inside and watched Nate pump the gas a few more times before retrying the key. The engine complained and sputtered at first but finally started up to sound of many Wilder cheers. Elated, we let the engine idle and started putting away the tools that littered the parking lot.

Ike gave Nappy a dry Green Bay Packers T-shirt to wear, and we offered him some cash and our deepest gratitude for his effort. He jumped back into his sedan and roared off into the New Mexico night with Iron Maiden blaring as we all breathed a sigh of relief. It was now about 8pm and I jumped behind the wheel of the Chief, hastily fleeing the parking lot while Betse followed in the rental van. Our plan now was to drive back to Los Lunos to drop off the mini-van. As I pulled back onto the highway, I noticed that the Chief was running well but did not have a great deal of power. We made the 15 minute drive without incident but as soon as I pulled off the highway at the Los Lunos exit, the engine died. We were on a downhill slope and I let it coast into a wide gravel pullout at the bottom of the hill. Ike and Nate pulled off the engine shroud, suspicious that the wire connections to the new fuel pump must have somehow shaken loose. Ike crawled back under The Chief to inspect the wiring while I jumped out to inform Betse of our latest disaster. Ike found some questionable wire connections and called Nappy to ask if there might be anything else that could have caused the RV to stall. A few more adjustments were performed under Nappy's cellular tutelage and, within an hour, The Chief fired back up. Ike and Nate both felt that it would be prudent to test drive the RV a bit more before embarking on an 8 hour drive in the middle of the night. So, with Betse following in the rental van, we drove back towards Albuquerque with the plan that if The Chief performed without incident for at least an hour, it would be safe to return the rental van and get back on the road to Tucson.

By the time we got to Albuquerque it was after 10pm and everyone was famished. We pulled into a McDonalds parking lot and went in to get some horrible road food and discuss the situation. Surrounding me at the table were three seriously tired and depressed faces. We choked down our burgers, and each of us weighed in on the pros and cons of taking The Chief any farther. Although we had "insurance" in the form of a mini-van, all of us really preferred to go to Tucson in our RV and agreed that if the Winnebago made it back to Los Lunos without failure, we would drop off the mini-van and get back on our way. Ike took the wheel and we rolled the 45 minutes back to Los Lunos with absolutely no problem whatsoever. As he took the Los Lunos exit, Ike punched the gas to the floor a couple of times daring The Chief to quit on us again. He made the turn east and started to roll back down the hill into town. Then, without warning, the engine stalled again and as Ike cranked the wheel into a gas station parking lot, I looked at him and said, "that's it, The Chief's done." It was now after midnight.

Exhausted and dejected, everybody jumped into the RV and began packing their gear for the trip to Tucson. By the time Nate and I got the mini-van loaded, there was barely enough room for four people to squeeze into their seats. Ike was able to fire back up The Chief and we decided the best option was to drive the RV back to Belen, NM, park it at the restaurant parking lot, and to call Nappy the next morning to beg him to work on it while we were gone. Ike drove The Chief with extreme caution the 15 minutes back to Belen. As he pulled back into the Jake and Andre's Restaurant lot, the RV died again. Ike tried in vain to start it back up but The Chief was going to roll no further. We hid a key for Nappy and then crammed ourselves into the minivan. I sat down behind the wheel and mentally prepared for an 8-hour drive starting at 2:30am. With everyone on board, I pulled back onto I-25 south and tried to quell my dread as icy drops of rain began to splatter on the windshield.

I'm so distracted

Hi folks,

I just can't seem to write an entry right now. I want to and I know that y'all want to know how we are and should hear from us more often. At least broPhil has kept you in the loop more than me. I have various reasons why I have been less forthcoming... but they may come out sounding like excuses and I don't want to do that. My biggest reason is distraction. Lots of thoughts in my head and can't settle in on any one thing long enough to write about it.

But I can do this.... I will make a few summarizing statements for my own self:

Things picked up a LOT once we hooked up w/ the Crooked Jades. Especially post-L.A. We all love them and miss them already. But we also love Foghorn and had a great time at the sold-out show last night. Will be with them in a couple hours for another night of fun.

It's really really hard to tour without the Chief. I can get out the computer and write an entry on the Chief. I can move around. I can knit or sew repairs on the seats. I can _do_ stuff. I can sleep in my own bunk. I can keep all my hanging clothes hanging. I can read before bed with my little lamp.

I can't do any of that too well in the van. Especially move around! I didn't even bring my knitting due to the shortness of space... and bedside lamp? Please! But a couple of times, I have thought that if we'd been in the Chief we'd have had a hard time. San Francisco. Even Portland to a degree. And on highway 299 in northern California.... steep, windy (as in crooked, not the atmospheric kind)... it would have been an even longer, slower drive in Chief.

I think maybe we are going to need to consider a van in addition to the Chief, for different kinds of tours? Geez. How much more debt can we get into? Don't answer that, I think I know this one.

Thanks everyone for being there... we miss you all and I'll really try to be better. I know, I've said that before. And I'll probably say it again.

Take care and be well....

We Tried: Part Two

The morning after the blow out, we were able to get two new tires installed at a local Ponca City tire dealer. After paying for the tires, Ike and I went across the street to an O'Reilly Auto Parts store and purchased our own 12-ton bottle jack. By noon, we were back on the road, tired, but grateful for the experience. Now we had the knowledge and the means to change a flat once and for all. We kept our stops to a minimum and made it to an Albuquerque, New Mexico RV park by 10pm. Our friend, April, who was visiting friends in Albuquerque, met us the next morning for a New Mexico breakfast of huevos rancheros and then we were back on the road toward Tucson, Arizona. I took the first shift, and feeling a little more rested, settled into Albuquerque traffic. About 30 minutes into the trip, I noticed that The Chief's power seemed to be cutting out. I would push on the accelerator and feel a hesitation in the gas flow. It didn't seem like an emergency, but we decided to pull off at the next exit in Belen, New Mexico to inspect the engine. As I pulled off the highway, the engine stalled and I had to crank the wheel violently to maneuver the RV into a rolling stop outside a restaurant. The boys pulled off the engine shroud and started looking things over while I went inside to let the restaurant owners know why we had blocked about 7 of their parking spaces. Nate guessed that the fuel pump might be the culprit and a plan was hatched to try to get the engine started again to get to an auto parts store for a new pump. Unfortunately, The Chief would not start and, luckily, we were able to reach April again-begging her to come rescue us. She arrived in about half an hour and the boys took off to get the parts.

Betse and I remained behind and distracted ourselves from the situation by watching two young New Mexican boys skateboarding the parking lot. We could tell that they were curious about us, but they kept their distance at first. After awhile, the older of the boys asked Betse what we were doing. She explained that we had broken down and were trying to get the RV fixed. With their questions answered satisfactorily, Betse slipped inside The Chief and grabbed her video camera to tape the boys as they carved up and down the parking lot. We found out that the boys were the restaurant owner's kids, and the namesakes of the restaurant we had rolled into- Jake and Andre's. With the ice broken, I gathered up some courage and ask Andre if I could have a turn on his skateboard while we waited for Ike and Nate to return.

Within an hour, April's Subaru came back into view and Nate put on his coveralls and broke out the tools. He didn't think it was going to be a particularly difficult fix and Betse and I relaxed as he climbed under The Chief and set about pulling off the old fuel pump. The afternoon was slipping past and, although I had confidence in our two mechanics, I began to formulate alternative travel plans in case the fuel pump switch failed to get our RV back on the road. With the old pump removed, Ike and Nate carefully went to work installing it's replacement. It turned out to be slightly more difficult than they had anticipated, but soon the pump was on and Nate sent Ike up top to turn the engine over. The engine cranked and cranked but it still wouldn't start. Score: Chief two, Wilders zero.

While we stood in the parking lot, Ike and Nate both grabbed their cell phones and began furiously making calls for advice while pacing incessantly around the RV. Betse and decided to start working on the alternative plan to get the band to Tucson and walked to a nearby hotel to borrow a yellow pages to investigate our van rental options. It was now 5pm and with our remaining light vanishing, I was able to reserve a mini van in the nearby town of Los Lunos about 15 minutes away. Before we could get out of the hotel lobby, Ike called me on my cell phone and told me someone had stopped to help and that there might still be hope. He told me that while they were in the parking lot on their phones, a man pulled up to the restaurant to drop off his daughter for work. He asked them what the problem was and when they explained the situation, he jumped out and picked up the old fuel pump that was lying on the ground. He pumped the arm that attaches to a cam inside the engine and pushed it a couple of times until gas sprayed out the other end. "This pumps still good," he said. Our newest angel, Napoleon "Nappie" Munoz, was now on the scene.

We Tried: Part One

(Prologue)
It was Thursday afternoon, March 3rd, and we were all very, very tired. " Hey dude," Ike said as came out from under The Chief with something shiny in his hand, "check this out." I walked over and looked at a tiny flat metal object held between his grease stained fingers. He said, "I found this under there." The metal plate looked like it had come off an old trophy, the kind that kids get when they don't win, or for that matter, place in the competition. Inscribed on the plate were two simple, but prophetic words: "We Tried".

It's now Sunday, March 6th and I'm typing this in the back seat of a rented 15 passenger van. Our western tour continues. But as we make our way from Parker, Arizona to Los Angeles, California, we are suffering from the loss of one of our crucial members...The Chief.

The tour started out well enough. Our first date, playing at Bob Wills home base, Cain's Ballroom in Tulsa, Oklahoma, gave us a shaky but successful start. Our performance legs were rusty from lack of use and we all had to work at it to get our groove back. The next day we were up and quickly down the road to the Kansas Bluegrass Association's Winterfest, in Wichita, Kansas. We made our first show in the nick of time (which isn't that unusual). With two shows now under out belt, we pulled out our best for our evening headline set. Betse played like a demon throughout the show and we ended by featuring four brand new tunes, each written by one member of the band. Thankfully, the crowd went wild.

The next morning, The Chief was running like crap but we were able to get him up the road to Andover, Kansas for a day of much needed maintenance. Our friends Connie and Conan, had dedicated their entire Sunday to helping us get our rig ready for the road. They found us a great deal on a new air conditioner and asked their RV guru, Larry for a few hours of his time to install it and give the ol' Chieftain a good looking over. Larry brought his 17-year-old son, Seth, who proved to be not only a mechanical genius, but a circus-caliber contortionist as well. Nate and Seth set about replacing all the spark plugs and wires while Ike and Larry put in the new AC unit. Seth practically bent in half behind the front wheels to get to the plugs which, one by one, he tossed out on the ground for us to see. Each plug was burned and shriveled like overcooked link sausages. Then he went to work on the plug wires which had a similar carbonized patina. One wire was completely melted on one end and I overheard him say to no one in particular, "Man, I don't know how this thing even started up." When the day was done, our beloved Winnebago had working air conditioning, a tune up and a completely (or so we thought) waterproof roof. We even learned how to use the propane tank to run the refrigerator- a problem that had plagued us in the west the previous year. We all went to bed feeling really good about ourselves and really good about The Chief. This was going to be a heck of a tour. The next day we slept late and then set about cleaning up the mess we made the day before. With all the cd's packed away, everybody's personal gear stowed in it's place and a new and improved Chief ready to roll, we broke free of Connie and Conan's driveway around 5:30pm in hopes of making it at least halfway to Tucson, Arizona before bed.

We were about an hour outside of Wichita when a we heard a loud bang under our feet. Luckily, there was a rest area just ahead and we pulled off to inspect the source of the noise. We had blown out the outside right back tire. Nate pulled out the tire iron and I started removing the spare from the back while Ike tried to figure out how the old scissors jack might be operated. In vain, we all tried to get the jack to work, but it seemed impossibly rusted and also much too small to ever lift the behemoth is was under. Luckily, within minutes, the handle broke off and we saved ourselves the embarrassment of any further effort. We still had one aired up tire on that side and, with the help of a map and a cell phone, made a plan to limp the RV about 30 miles to Ponca City, Oklahoma to a 24 hour Wal Mart to buy a proper jack. We drove very slowly with our hazards on, but let me tell you, it was 30 seriously nerve racking miles. If the remaining tire blew out from the extra weight, we would be dead in the water. But by 10:30pm, we made it to the store, parked in an out-of-the-way location and headed in. We agreed on a 3-ton shop jack (the biggest one they had) that looked like it had plenty of power to get us safely off the ground. We paid for it and went back outside and started pumping. Although the chassis moved up several inches, we still could not get enough clearance to get the blown tire off, much less the full-of-air spare tire back on. We checked the operator's manual on the jack and it seemed like it was in perfect working order. Score: Chief one, Wilders zero.

With no other option, we called AAA RV and within an hour, a kid who seemed barely old enough to drive, showed up in a tow truck. With the poisonous diesel fumes still idling from his exhaust, the kid pulled out another 3-ton shop jack and started pumping. Not surprisingly, his 3-ton jack moved the chassis just about as far as our had. We all sort of scratched our heads as we realized that you can't use a 3-ton jack to lift a 30 foot Winnebago. Then a light bulb suddenly lit up over my head. We still had a perfectly good, albeit bald, full-of-air-tire on the inside of the blow out. Couldn't we just drive the inside tire up on a couple of boards? Wouldn't that make it easy and safe to remove the outside tire with no jack even necessary? Now, I make no claims to have any mechanical aptitude whatsoever and usually try to help out Ike and Nate in these situations by fetching tools or holding the flashlight where needed. So, not surprisingly, everybody agreed that this was a genius level moment for me. We fetched two of the boards we use to level the RV and within seconds the tire was raised and ready to be switched. I went to get the spare and Ike started removing the lug nuts. Strangely though, no matter how much he loosened them, the bolts still seemed tight. We thought maybe the lugs were just rusty and we each took turns forcing them and forcing them until finally we got all of them off. Nate grabbed the blown out tire and it still seemed to be stuck on the lugs. He gave it a kick and the bad tire finally fell off. That's when we realized that there was only one set of lugs for BOTH WHEELS. Now, because the inside wheel still had the full weight of the RV on it, we realized that our remaining wheel was now ready to fall off too. Nate inspected the wheel and saw that it had shifted slightly out toward the top. There was still plenty of lug showing but we realized that this was an extremely dangerous situation. SO MUCH FOR MY GENIUS MOMENT. We considered our plight and there was brief talk about trying to put the lug nuts back on for safety but none of us would volunteer for this hazardous duty. Stupidly, we had dismissed the AAA kid and now realized that we were going to have to call him back and request a much stronger jack than you can buy at Wal Mart. Ike called AAA RV again and within an hour, the kid rolled back up. He reached behind the truck seat and pulled out a much smaller bottle shaped jack. "This one's a 12-tonner," he said above the noise of the idling diesel, "I think this one will get her up." He quickly set about placing the tiny jack under the chassis and with about 25 short pumps, The Chief was listing like the Titanic. With the weight off the precarious wheel, the AAA kid started working to get it back into place. The downward force had made the wheel tilt out slightly and now it was seriously jammed. The kid started shoving the wheel from outside the fender but it still would not budge. Ike and I then watched in horror as he sat down under the jacked up wheel and started kicking it repeatedly until it finally dislodged and he was able to shove it back into it's original position. Then, without batting an eye, he grabbed the spare tire, shoved it into place, and spun the lug nuts back on. It was now about 3:00am. We followed the AAA kid back to his shop to check the air pressure in the spare and then headed back into town to reluctantly grab two motel rooms for the first sleep deprived night of the tour. It wouldn't be the last...

Here we are...

We made it safely to Tacoma and I'm writing from the hotel room now. The week behind us has been all kinds of interesting... more on that later, folks, I just want to let you know that we (and our instruments) got here safe and sound.

As usual on the road, internet access is intermittent, so thus the delay in a post from any of us. Here's a bit of an update.

We played one set this afternoon and while we were tired, I think it went over really well. It was a "workshop" set, "Meet the Wilders". I think we gave folks a decent intro... tonite we play a late night set at "Club Wintergrass"... it's a night full of dancing, but not called square dances, just any kind of dancing. Should be fun and boy, I can say I'm already glad that we don't have a set until tomorrow evening. Usually we play in the afternoon and then the evening but this time we get to sleep in... I can't wait.

This festival is a big'un. There's all kinds of folks jamming everywhere you go. I asked when we checked in if they had a quiet floor (the term for when you're at a hotel festival and there are floors that are designated no jamming -- thus the quiet) -- but no such luck here. They said they tried that and it didn't work, so they just let the jamming happen wherever and whenever... I'm hoping that us being on the 19th floor will help cut down on too much late night noise. When I really want to sleep, I really don't want to hear guitars and loud voices, you know?

Anyway... shows so far have been good. Cain's was fun -- thanks to y'all who were there, we sure appreciated your support! Wichita was also fun as it really helped to kick off the tour at a festival where everybody knows us and is right there with us from the start. I'm looking forward to the rest of the weekend and then onward... upward... there will be perhaps some more detailed posts coming up but for now, let's leave it at this.

I'm feeling like this is a letter and it always kind of is for me, so now I'll say I hope you all are well and safe and happy... hope to see you soon, take care!

Updates, albeit scattered

Hey y'all,

I just saw a news flash on Blogspot when I logged on and they have updated the way comments worked. I wondered what some of you were talking about... that must be it. Creating a new post looks the same to me though.

By the way, the Trading Spouses thing got shrunk to one episode -- I heard from Dan O'Brien this week -- and it will air on Monday, this Monday, 2/14. Since it's so short, there's even less chance of a Nate sighting, but maybe there's still hope.

So, yes, Salt Lake City was cancelled. We got the call Tuesday night! They were just not selling enough tickets and so they pulled the plug. A drag, but then again, it's kinda nice to be home this weekend to get ready for the tour. Though we could have used the sales for the band bank account.

Speaking of sales, there should very soon be a new button on our Goods page for the DVD, thanks to our web page dude. At that time y'all can order via Paypal. I will try to keep an eye on that and at that time will send out an email to the mailing list. I still haven't seen the finished video myself! Maybe we'll watch it on the road.

I have spent a lot of time in the past couple of days on the ol' iBook, emailing daily several times with Agent Mary, making more cyberconnections in preparation for the tour, making small handbills for various upcoming shows, mailing them, updating our schedule page,... on and on. That kind of work alone makes for nearly a full-time job. That also means that I am finally feeling better and I believe I'm out of the chest cold woods. It was a tough run! I was fine down in Louisiana but might have caught some more germs from Dirk's baby daughter, or something like that. So it was relapse city and a tough weekend in Lawrence. Thanks again to all of you for your well wishes.

Man, I hope we have a good crowd in Tulsa! I think it ought to be decent -- look forward to seeing some of you there -- my folks might even come, although they usually go to Tulsa for the opera (Mme. Butterfly is my dad's favorite)... my Mom read a story online somewhere about the ghost of Bob Wills which reportedly haunts Cain's. So we'd better do a good job or risk the wrath of Mr. Western Swing himself!

I never said anything about Louisiana. If I had to sum it up, here's what I'd say:

Louisiana rocks.
So does Dirk Powell.
I can't wait to go back there again.
Don't know when that'll be.
Hope we can do our next album with him too.
This album will be groundbreaking (I think).

As you all know, I could say more but I'll leave it at that, for now. It's hard to do but a good challenge for me.

Hopefully my story-writing skills will strengthen when we hit the road... this post is a bit scattered and multi-topical, but I just wanted to hit on a few things for y'all. So now you have the latest... y'all are the greatest.

back in black

No, it's not deja vu, just a jump back to where we were before. My makeover to the blog was a surprise to others -- there was a strong stance to keep the white text on black background rather than all those rounded boxes and lighter background and I'd rather be a lover than a fighter, so I'm returning to our original look.

My apologies to all for all the sudden changes. This is how we're keeping it until and unless we take the blog to a new location, at which time it may have a look to match whatever our website looks like in the future. I'm disabling comments on this post only because I just want my post to be here as an explanation and not a starting point for conversation... please blog on, friends, and if you'll just do me the favor of pretending the change never happened, I will feel a little bit better and can continue on with the bigger picture, ok?

(If you have just posted and beat me to this message, don't worry about it, I just want to move on from here... hope that makes some sense... thanks, and all good things to all of you.)

The TV show is on next week

OK folks, here it is! Starting next week, the Trading Spouses shows w/ our friends, the O'Briens. Look out for Nate the Great on bass! Maybe some other Wilders may pop up, too. I think it's on at 7 pm central time... is that right, brophil?

I'll have some stories to add about last week, coming soon. Today, I am burrowing my way through a bunch of emails from the last week.

Thanks everyone for the continued faith and support. I'll say more soon...


Trading Spouses: O'Brien/Shackelford: Part 1 (2/7) Part 2 (2/14)

In this fresh take on the classic fish-out-of-water story, Mrs. O'Brien of Evergreen, CO, and Mrs. Shackelford of Smithfield, VA, trade places with each other to try out the ultimate life change - switching their families to take over a family from another walk of life. Part one of this two part episode airs Monday, February 7, part two airs Monday, February 14 (8:00-9:00 PM) on FOX.


Part 1 of this episode of TRADING SPOUSES: MEET YOUR NEW MOMMY airs Monday, Feb. 7 (8:00-9:00 PM ET/PT) on FOX.

TRADING SPOUSES
Episode: O'Brien/Shackelford, Part 1 of 2 (TSP-121)
Date: 2-7-2005
Time: 8:00-9:00 PM
Network:  FOX


Part 2 of this episode of TRADING SPOUSES: MEET YOUR NEW MOMMY airs Monday, Feb. 14 (8:00-9:00 PM ET/PT) on FOX.

Episode: O'Brien/Shackelford, Part 2 of 2 (TSP-122)
Date: 2-14-2005
Time: 8:00-9:00 PM
Network:  FOX

Oh for heaven's sake, relax folks!

Alright, now that I've got your attention. I'll give you an update. Sorry for the cliffhanger but I like to play around with y'all's minds a little bit just to keep you interested, you know? Yeah, The Chief ran like crap all the way down to Louisiana. Yeah, The Chief ran like crap 1/3 of the way back. But we've still got angels on our side and a couple of decent (albeit reluctant) mechanics on board that old claptrap. I won't go into great detail at this point but let's just say that Nate and Ike, with the help of an above-and-beyond-the-call-of-duty employee of the local Natchitoches, Louisiana O'Reilly Auto Parts store, fixed that crap for good. The short story- it needed a new distributor. The old one looked like an rusty old antique at a roadside flea market. The boys fixed him up real good and we rolled like butter all the way home. So let's stop all this "we need to organize" stuff ok? We are grown ups. We are able deal with our transportation situation without calling Andy Hardy and Judy Garland-not that I don't appreciate the sentiment. Rest assured that when we REALLY need help, we'll beg like.... well, beggars, I guess. Oh, by the way, Dirk Powell was fantastic. Y'all can relax on the whole vehicle thing and start salivating at the aural prominence that is coming your way soon...

Trials and tribulations on the way to the bayou...

Betse, Nate and I left good ol' K.C. around 4pm enroute to Betse's home town, Fayetteville, Arkansas. We met up with Ike and his mom, Vieta, in Joplin, Missouri and dined on a fantastic truck stop buffet dinner courtesy of Flying J. Then Ike grabbed the wheel of the Chief and, in two hours, delivered us safely into Betse's parent's driveway. Bob and Bobbie Ellis welcomed us into their home and we enjoyed a nightcap of German beer and cheese dip before turning in for the evening.

The next morning, after breakfast, we stopped by a local Fayetteville music store to stock up on picks and strings before heading out of town straight south on Hwy 71 through the Boston Mountains of Arkansas. Being the strong morning driver that I am, I took charge of The Chief and renewed my RV driving legs on the twisting, turning single lane. After a few hours of driving this snaking highway, The Chief began to backfire randomly. There would be a loss of power and then a giant BANG! Each time it happened, I watched the cars that were hopelessly trapped behind us on the curving, narrow hills drop back 50 yards or so- putting a safe distance between us just on the odd chance that The Chief might suddenly explode. I cautiously continued to limp the RV up and down the hills while Nate and Ike deliberated on the possible cause of the RV's poor performance. Smack dab in the middle of the Quichita National Forest, I completely lost power and I had to quickly jerk the wheel to the right shoulder. The boys pulled off the engine shroud and started inspecting things while I crawled under The Chief to change the fuel filter. The boys discovered several possible problems but decided that a filthy air filter was the most likely culprit. As our luck would have it, the next town was only four miles away (downhill thankfully) and we were able to buy a new filter, spark plugs, wires and other essential auto sundries at the parts store minutes before they closed down for the weekend.

With the filter freshly changed, and our appointment to record with Dirk Powell foremost in our minds (but still hundreds of miles away), we fired back up The Chief and hoped for the best. It performed much better (now that it could breathe!) and we all exhaled a sigh of relief as the Ozark afternoon decayed into golden twilight.

Gettin' ready to go

OK! Here's a new post so y'all can go crazy again! Yes, we've been busy getting ready for the big record session. I'm all excited and not too nervous... yet. Hopefully the nerves will be more like adrenaline once we're there. It's just crazy that this is actually happening and... well, I don't even know what else to say. I think I just got more nervous writing that.

Peggy -- I hope your shoulder/arm is doing better! I don't know if you can get ahold of any down there, but look for some arnica -- it really helps with soreness. You can find it in a health food store, both in gel and pill form.

Everybody else -- keep on keeping on, and don't worry about limiting your topics, like brotherphil said.

I have too much to do this afternoon but as usual have enjoyed all the various posts from y'all -- all alliterations aside, always admire animated activity and actual astuteness.

Black was getting me down so now I'm blue

Hello Everybody,

Thanks for all the well wishes. I am doing better, not quite 100% yet, but am determined to be well very soon so we can get back into practicing -- which is much needed to make the most of our recording session!

I will try to post a little more often... not exactly a resolution, but a good intention... because for you serious posters, it's hard to have to scroll all the way down after a long post. I may some day change locations of the blog as I've seen some that work more like a list of threads and you can more easily navigate per topic.

But first things first. I liked the black page I originally set up, but I was getting tired of it. So, I've chosen a new template. I hope you like it. If not, well, hmm, that may be too bad! I like to mess with html, what little I know of it, and so I customized this template so I could add links, which you can see on the right. I'll be adding more to these and if you have ideas you can email me (see the email link to the right)... ideas, anyone?

For once I'll keep this one short -- thanks again for the good thoughts and great stories and I will say a little tear came to my eye more than once. Y'all are good people.

P.S. Nate just got a real email address and I've sent him the key to get in as an official post-er. So you don't see his name right now on contributors, but it will reappear when he's done this. Now, Vieta, how'd you get in on that list? I guess Ike did it but I'm not sure how that happened as I am the Keymaster. Not to be confused as related to Tickmeister.

A Much Needed Update!

Hey folks,
These are a few things that are happening or are going to be in the next two months:

1. The Wilders live DVD is finally finished. I worked on it for the entire month of December and finished it just in time for the Christmas holiday. My wife and I watched it on Christmas Eve and she tapped her toes and laughed out loud for the entire show. Although we recorded it almost a year ago, I think it is an excellent representation of our live show. I also included a special surprise at the end that many of you will be very eager to see. I will take the final master to the manufacturer tomorrow morning and I'd expect it to available (hopefully) by mid February. The cost will be $20.00. Stay tuned to the website for ordering information.

2. We have been invited to travel to Louisiana to record with Dirk Powell at the end of January. Betse and Nate both got a chance to meet Mr. Powell at the Gray Fox Festival in Ancramdale New York last summer. He immediately impressed both of them with his laid back, hip southerness. At the IBMA conference this last October, he candidly told our booking agent, Mary, that The Wilders had, "raw beauty man, raw bea-Uty". We know we are lucky to have this opportunity and are taking it very seriously with multiple practices to get our new material up to snuff. For a nice one-page biography of Dirk go to the following link:

http://www.folkloreproductions.com/Html/dirkp.html

3. Some of you who dig deep in the comments of these blogs know that, for the first time, we are working on original material for our new album. As of now, we have 10 original songs/fiddle tunes with a few more on the back burner. Betse has written some fantastic barn burning fiddle tunes that are quickly becoming my favorite tunes in her repetoire. Nate has written two fabulous honky tonk tunes that are a blast to play (the kid has really got a way of setting that old country hook!). And Ike and I have both dug into our old song archives to resurrect some of our old songs that we always believed in, but just never had a band to flesh them out, until now. So we are all pretty excited. The hardest part will be figuring out what will work best for the album. Regardless, it will be our best sounding record yet.

4. I gave 30 days notice to the Art Institute on December 17th. I will be a full time Wilder by the time we go to Louisiana to record. I'm looking forward to focusing on just one job for the first time in 9 years.

5. Finally, I'm not supposed to talk about this so please heed this cryptic hint...
Watch the reality show, "Trading Spouses" on Fox in January and February. The reason why will be evident when you catch the right episode. That is all. Happy New Year everybody!

one thing... leads to another

Vieta, thanks for the Prison Pete link. Folks, here it is.

So I started to read it but very quickly got curious about "Pete's Blogroll" and it's what it sounds like, a listing of blogs picked by Pete. I don't even remember which one got me to this site, Similar Minds, but it was a pretty cool find. All kinds of personality tests and a few just for fun.

For example, I started with the "What Classic Movie Are You?" And it turns out I am "Hollywood Boulevard". I haven't seen it but guess I will now! And the results of my "Famous Leader" test turned out with me being Che Guevara. Oh my! I didn't even know much about Che but found a little site and turns out he was instrumental in Castro's guerilla campaign in Cuba. Well, I don't know what that says about me, except that I am perhaps a secret revolutionary. Not that I'm planning to pick up weapons of war or anything! It was pretty fun. And all from a random choice. Hooray for random! If you take some of the tests, that will make even more sense.

The other moral of this story is that I am spending too much time online. I am still able to surf via my unknown neighbor's cable connection, using my wireless dealy on this Mac. I tend to get caught up online for a few hours each night. I am avoiding some things, though getting the most important stuff done.

But right now, for example -- I need to figure out what to wear (indeed) for the show in Winfield tomorrow night. (Ah, finally Wilders content!) We are potentially going to be on camera during this show. A National Media Group (that's all I'm allowed to say for now) will be filming the O'Brien Family Band, who invited us to come play the show with them. Nate will be playing bass with them, so he's definitely getting camera time! We have known the O'Brien's for many years now. I think the year we actually met them was at the Winfield fest ca. 1996? I think it was the first year Ike came down with me & Phil. Dan (the dad) was playing guitar outside his camper on Sunday morning and his little girl, Maura, who was about 3, was dreamily running and dancing in circles in front of him. It was one of the sweetest things I've ever seen. And besides being sweet to watch, they turned out to be one of the nicest families ever. So, anyway, tomorrow we'll see them for this show and oh how I dislike being on camera. I've never been comfortable being photographed, even. Hmm, guess I'd better start getting used to it, if our road to success is as paved as we hope!

I guess the real moral of this story here is that I have some things to consider when it comes to being comfortable with myself. Isn't it ironic -- I am most of the time quite confident and happy onstage, and actually enjoy performing so much, and yet I feel a little trapped in the physical body and personal limitations that I have to live with... well, there's no better place to let it out lately than here... it feels like a private journal when I'm writing, though I know it's not. It does seem more like a family place right now, though, with comments limited to a few dedicated, loving, sweet souls such as yourselves. That translates to a thank you to you sweet souls. And to all a good night.

And if you like old photos....

Check out Snapatorium on blogger! I found it while browsing one night and spent about an hour looking at every single photo. There are some great finds. And funny titles to go with the images -- in some cases the picture you see will surprise you compared to the caption.

check it out here!

Recent Photo(s) #3

Here is a quick capture of Nate's bass' neck... that was such a shocker. This bass was given to Nate by his great uncle, and the real shocker was that his Uncle passed away about one hour before the neck of the bass broke off. Nate didn't find out about this until after the festival -- his folks didn't want him to be too upset with all the shows we had to play. His uncle passed very quickly and is now at peace and I'm sure is very glad that his nephew makes such great music on this old instrument.

Recent Photo(s) #2

Here's another one -- I liked this a lot for two main reasons... first, Phil is actually smiling, which is awesome! And second, you can actually see all 4 of us, which is rare!

Recent Photo(s) #1

Thought I'd post a few photos from this year's Walnut Valley Festival (aka Winfield)... taken by our pal Mike Beauchamp.

HEY -- if anyone out there has photos of us performing, or hanging out even, please send them to be@wilderscountry.com -- I love collecting them and will post some of them here or eventually on wilderscountry (once we get set up for that).

Thanks!

Help Wanted: Must have audio/visual experience...

Ok, it took our traditionally silent partner, Ike, who wrote a whopping 25th comment on Betse's last blog to finally get me to write something new. Why? I guess I've had a serious case of writer's block. While the leaves are quickly dropping from the trees, I find myself in a complete flux. Here I am, suddenly at home with all my old responsibilities, put-off projects, overdue library books, and so on to deal with. On the plus side, I'm taking of advantage of precious time at home with my patient wife, smelly black lab and geriatric cat. Unfortunately, this joyful time is interrupted all too often by an annoying thing called work. With absolutely no adjustment period, I climbed out of The Chief in August and plopped right back into my old mediocre world of pushy teachers, aloof administrators, and needy students. And I wasn't ready.

Although touring this summer was often very difficult, I grew used to the rhythms of the road life. Each day was a new set of circumstances, an open road map, a new crowd to play for. When I finally turned in for the night, I was able to go to sleep in my bunk knowing that the next day would surely be the same- but completely different. I also got used to living with these three eccentric partners of mine. After a few weeks in The Chief, we all learned to anticipate and look out for each other's mood swings, how to share a very tight space, how to laugh off the small annoyances and how to sit down and talk about the bad stuff before it overheated to boiling and burned us all.

So here I am back at my stupid job and I'm bummed out. I miss it. Yes, I know my summer blogs were the ones most likely to get comments like, "hang in there, Phil. You're almost done!" and, "You'll look back someday and laugh!". But I never really meant to be a complainer. I was more interested in documenting the "real" story for everybody who was keeping tabs on us. Now that I look back at it, I guess I can see why people thought I was unhappy. But I'd trade endless meals at Subway and endless miles in The Chief for pointless committee meetings and passive/ aggressive emails any dang old day.

So, I am happy to report that I have decided to take the ultimate plunge. Our booking agent magnifico, Mary, has a full slate of shows for us in 2005. Prior to our summer tour, I had been holding out for assurance that the band can really do this full time. I found out that even under the worst circumstances, we can live and even thrive on the road. I've also been holding out for self assurance that I, personally, can really do this full time. Well I did it, and lived to tell the tale. Plus I did it, and now that I'm not doing it, I miss it. That's assurance enough for me right now. So, without disclosing too much in the way of detail, I can report that my seemingly endless 9-5 desk-job days are quickly falling off the calendar like so many leaves from the trees. Soon enough, I will be bare and cold and exposed to the elements. But spring is just around the corner. And I will welcome the warmth as I begin to embrace my new life as a full time Wilder. Keep reading. There's gonna be a lot more stories to come.

IBMA: What it stands for, why we went, how it's important to our future and where it's going

IBMA = International Bluegrass Music Association

IBMA conference = I've Barely Made it Alive conference

Yes, that's what a lot of folks call it! And oh boy it's true. Folks, I barely had a chance to use a computer, let alone write to you with updates. This was an extreme case of the best intentions with no way to fulfill them. I have a bit of time before our Zona Rosa gig, so I'll give you some highlights.

BY THE WAY, though, first, I must tell you that sadly this local gig is not a public one. If you want to spend $75 for a ticket, though, come on down!! Geez! It didn't say it was a ticketed event on our contract, so I'm sorry for any unintentional misleading. I'd better send a quick note to the list with my apologies. So I'll be right back with my post. Go get a cup of coffee. Or, just read on, because it'll all follow right here!

Ok. I did the deed. Sure hope there are not a lot of angry folks due to our ignorance!

Now for the rest of the story. Yours truly spent each day working the trade show, shaking hands and charming the big guns of the bluegrass industry. Our agent extraordinaire, Mary Brabec, introduced me to who knows how many of these big guns. The list includes festival promoters, concert presenters, other agents, label reps, and radio programmers. Whew! And that was just during the days. Then on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday nights, we played showcases for big guns and faithful fans. There are big stage showcases at IBMA, but so far our applications to perform have been denied. So, along with the big stage bands and those trying to break through, we played late night shows in hotel suites.

The Galt House in L'ville is an excellent place to hold these showcases as many rooms are in fact like one bedroom apartments. A standard suite has room for about 25 people, if you move furniture around and put in some straight back chairs. And if the band is really cranking, you end up drawing a crowd outside the door too. We played twice in the suite where I was staying with Mary, and then played three other showcases in bigger suites. Our biggest one was in the Larryfest king size suite on the 12th floor. This is a 3 bedroom place with a huge living area and dining area. There were probably 80 people there, maybe 100. Last year we scored a much bigger crowd, but we had more time to advertise. This showcase was late Thursday night and we didn't decide to do it until late Wed. night. But our L'ville pal, Zach, helped to get the word out and the place was filled with sweet young L'ville punkers, right along with some of the big guns and other fans mentioned previously. I love to play a crowd like this. It's good proof that music can bring diverse people together.

It's a crazy way to do business. Get up in the morning, have some meetings or attend a special session. Try to get interest from the buyers. Go to the trade show in the afternoon and try to get some more interest, and spread the word on the showcases. Do some playing in the lobby for more word-spreading. Collapse for a bit, maybe get some dinner. Maybe go to the big stage showcases in the early evening. Get ready for late night playing, which starts at 11 pm. (our latest showcase was a 2 am show! And there were probably 30+ people there, filling about 80% of the chairs in that particular suite. Plus folks standing in the back and also hanging out in the hall outside. That's a good turnout.) And you can't just go to sleep after you play a showcase, especially if you're a Wilder. The adrenaline is all pumped up and it's impossible to sleep until you unwind a bit, which usually involves a few beers and some hall wandering, finding other players and jams and sometimes music that just absolutely blows you away. You may never even see those people again, so when you find some great music in the halls or in a random room, you have to check it out.

It's like the biggest festival you could imagine, with music everywhere, all night, and all the day business that you wish you didn't have to do, but you have to. Just like last year, I was the only Wilder registered for the conference. It's really expensive. So the trade show working/schmoozing and other related tasks fell to me. That's okay, though, because I kind of get in to this type of challenge. Plus I really like meeting the big guns, especially if they just caught us playing the night before. This year more than ever, I got a lot of recognition when folks met me, because they can't help but love the band. And even if they hadn't seen us, more often than not they had heard good things about us. I am sure there are promoters who don't like our show. That's only natural averages. But I think I can safely say that we were one of the main bands being talked about and I can definitely say that we got ourselves a whole lot of work out of this one week. Where else can you get all these buyers together at one time? And what other kind of music has an event this big where you can accomplish so much? It's pretty dang cool.

OK. Specific highlights. In no particular order.

The John Hartford Memorial Cruise, on the Belle of Louisville steamboat. Friday morning. With on-board entertainment.

A late night (ca. 3 am or later) discovery of a three-piece group playing like crazy by the elevators, with no one around until our group found them. The girl fiddler was out of this world. Reminded me of myself with her energy and "go for it" approach, but her chops and technical ability far surpass my own. Don't worry, no jealousy, just admiration!

Julie Lee. My soul sister. A songwriter with the most expressive voice. We played together and sang (though my voice was nearly gone with all the talking of the week) and I truly believe we were supposed to meet. I will be seeing her again and making beautiful music. And you will be hearing about it.

Zach. Our young friend in L'ville. He plays manager for us and makes a pretty good one, too. And he has crazy looking punker friends who are really fun to play for.

Curly Seckler. Used to sing and play mando with Flatt and Scruggs. Honored by the IBMA at the awards show. A sweet, charming, FUNNY man who pretty much stole the show. I'm going to buy some F&S album now, just because I saw Curly. (I don't own much bluegrass, you know!)

Art Stamper. I didn't get to see him, but he did get out of the hospital to receive an award prior to the show, and was on site. I wish I had seen him but was so glad to hear he was moving about and I will send him another letter this week.

Oh, there are more, but these come to mind the quickest. This coming week is going to be very busy, Mary says, because she fully expects to be inundated with phone calls from presenters desperate to get the Wilders to their venues and festivals!

SO -- we Barely Made it Alive, due to the sleep deprived short nights and long days, but oh boy it was worth it.

The saddest thing? That was the last time the conference took place in Louisville. It's moving to Nashville next year. Sigh.