"Crime and Astonishment (Or a Couple Typical Weeks in a Touring Artist's Life)" (Feb. 2008)

It's been quite a month. I left home for the South Florida Folk Festival a day late thanks to a icy snowstorm, which meant I got an extra day with baby Madeleine. And while the 12-hour drive the next day to Jacksonville was grueling, it was quite worth it. I was excited about my first ever South Florida tour, and especially for spending my day off fulfilling a childhood dream of seeing the Everglades, before heading off to Texas.

The first day of the festival was wonderful - warm reception from the audience, warm breeze blowing in off the Everglades (literally across the levee from the festival), and a great full haloed moon song circle with Storyhill, David T. Carter, Barb Ryman and Danny Schmidt to name a few. I crawled in the van to sleep just as the raindrops hit.

Sunday morning I did a Special Music Service for the local Unitarian Church in Ft. Lauderdale. To my horror, someone smashed the passenger window of the van and stole my video camera (hidden in the back) and my overnight bag (complete with a book of Madeleine's baby pictures), in the 10 minutes between trips out to the van before the service. None of my equipment, or my still camera were taken. But it certainly leaves you feeling vulnerable and distrustful and violated. And wanting to just go home and forget about it.

Of course, the show must go on. We learn this as kids, a playful euphemism for "pick yourself up and forget your troubles". The euphemism somehow never mentions driving around with sheet plastic on a broken window. I made it back to the festival in time to do my workshop, and then hibernated with friends nearby to have a couple drinks and safe harbor to try to put the day's nightmare behind me.

Luckily, the insurance company sent someone out to fix the window the next day, and while that was going on two of my dear friends took me out to the Everglades, bound and determined that that joy would not be stolen. It was fabulous. Everything I had dreamed and more.

And when I hit the road for Texas the next day, complete with new window, and fresh Florida grapefruit and strawberries, I got Sean's call about getting the clean bill of health and a plane ticket to Austin. From low lows to high highs, no doubt.

After the tour was over, complete with four really fun shows and a 22-hour drive, I was home in time to watch the Super Bowl. While I must admit some excitement at the (ultimately unfulfilled) possibility of sports history being made, the thing that lingers in memory is the halftime show. Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers first broke onto the rock music scene in the late 70s when I was just learning to play guitar. While I've always enjoyed his music, he also is one of those artists who has repeatedly put principle ahead of profit. Despite big fights with major record labels, he has enjoyed a successful career studded with several great straight ahead rock and roll songs that became anthems for a generation or two.

They sounded great! I found myself really enjoying the show, made for TV though it was. And I couldn't help but thinking to myself, 'When Tom Petty was a kid did he ever dream of this, of playing at the Super Bowl? And did he imagine that he would be nearly 60 years old when he did?'

Life as a touring musician sometimes turns out just like you hoped or expected, but more often than not, it seems like something a kid could have never dreamed up. I guess that's what makes it so special. I sometimes think about my childhood dreams about someday being a musician, and I smile in astonishment at my good fortune. And it's because of you that I get to do it.

So thanks for that, from the kid who's favorite Tom Petty song was "American Girl".