Here's to Hopes and Dreams

While I was born a rock-n-roller my Dad was all country!

The very first song I ever learned, and he delighted in my singing, was "Please help me I'm falling" by Hank Cochran. (Here's a link to painful video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DndK5hZBgu0&feature=kp ).

I'd sing it to the top of my lungs in the backseat of the old white "Comet" for Dad and Uncle Bobby and they'd just laugh.

Then I discovered "The Beatles", 50's rock-n-roll and Elvis and never looked back.

Growing up was a never ending battle for radio supremacy with me hitting the button for WSGA while Dad instantly flipping to WEAS.

It was his car so he always won and I got lectures on how Willie Nelson's "Red Headed Stranger" is better than anything John Lennon and Paul McCartney ever thought about doing.

I remember it as an intense hated of the other's music.

Looking back on it today though we found common ground.

Dad became a huge Anne Murray fan when she sang Kenny Loggings songs barefoot on the stage.

And I fell in love with "The Statler Brothers", an old white Gospel Quartet who crossed over into the country mainstream.

This opened the door for me to listen and love Waylon Jennings, Tom T. Hall and the coolest, hippest, country artist ever Johnny Cash.

Sitting on the Beloved Back Deck last night on a warm summer night with the ocean casting salt over the island, I hit Spotify and "The Statler Brothers" reminded me the Class of 57 had its dreams.

It's a haunting, poignant, beautiful recollection of how life turns out better for some than others in spite of the belief that "we'd change the world with our great words and deeds."

It takes me back to fond memories of Dad hitting the radio button for WEAS and Hank Cochran just after I'd hit the one for WSGA for Derek and the Dominos.

Dad's gone but I still have my dreams though "living life every day is never as it seems."

But here's to Dad and each of the Statler Brothers; here's to hopes and dreams that don't die; here's to still being here long after the class I graduated with is gone ...

Here's to us all.

Tidings of Comfort and Joy

The Palm tree with the oyster shell eyes and coconut bra is wearing a grass skirt again.

Winter winds blew the old one away and she's been standing there bottomless until this morning.

Sarah brought a bunch of them so the next time her skirt's blown off we're prepared!

Last night my dear friend Terry Ball was over for dinner and afterwards we took a stroll around the island to catch up.

Samuel Adams, who plays damn good live music on the island whenever he gets around to it, was hosting "Open Mike" night at Bernie's.

"That Sam," I point to Terry as we walk.

"Where's Bar Church?"

"There in the Bar," I answer Terry and lead side where the place is happening because Sam's owning it and everyone's having a blast!

"Where's Sarah? Where's your guitar? Y'all doing Bar Church Sunday?" he rapidly fires questions while hugging me on stage and several people in the audience join us.

Bar Church isn't confined to Sundays.

Leaving the madness Terry and I wander down to "Doc's Bar" for Monty Parks and the acoustic jam which is where I spend most Tuesday evenings as part of a family of dysfunctional musicians.

We share our talents or lack thereof, tell stories, sing songs and make a different kind of church together ... a pure one where people simply share what they have without asking for much in return.

Not hanging around, I introduce Terry and we slide back into the darkness making our way to the beach reminding ourselves of 30 years of friendship.

Strolling by "Stingrays", Jason Courtenay has a large crowd in the palms of his guitar playing hands wailing out country blues.

"Is this a normal Tuesday night" Terry asks.

"It's Spring Break somewhere," I answer, "and a lot of them come here."

By now we're making our way passed "Tybee Island Social Club" where an acoustic player is singing while the band sets up.

"You should go there," I say. "It's good. The Bluegrass Brunch on Sunday's is better than church."

When God decided to announce to the world he was having a son ... he sent musicians.

"Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and singing 'Glory to God in the Highest ..." (Luke 2:13).

I believe God has a "preferential option" for musicians.

That's why She send a Heavenly Band to deliver the tidings of comfort and joy to the world.

Alas, preachers have tried to talk this down ever since but if you read the first couple of chapters of the Gospel of Luke ... everybody's singing.

Mary gets knocked up and breaks out in a song with some of the best lyrics ever written.

John the Baptist's Dad did the same thing.

When Jesus was born it was a whole damn band bringing the news.

"Wow!" Terry said as we make our way in the darkness.

"Exactly," I smile throwing my arm over his shoulder.