Steel Rail Blues: Gordon Lightfoot

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Mystery Train: Junior Parker & His Blue Flames

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This Train: The Limeliters

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My Man's a Jolly Railroad Man: Moonshine Kate

"Recorded circa 1930. Rosa Lee Carson was the daughter of country music pioneer Fiddlin' John Carson. She started touring with her father at the age of fifteen, accompanying Fiddlin' John on guitar and banjo. Rosa Lee soon developed her own musical personality, Moonshine Kate, which, according to Jill McWhorter and Ben S. Austin, 'emerged out of the repartee between Carson and Rosa Lee in which he was the moonshine reprobate and she was the sassy, snuff-dipping mountain gal who usually ended up out-wisecracking her father.'"


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“I knew I was going to take the wrong train, so I left early.”

In my mind's eye, I can still see the hall in my grandparents' house where I used to stand to watch the trains. The hall was small, more of an entryway. It had a closet and a window. I remember the closet had a mirror on the front. The window was beside the closet but set back just a bit. It faced up the street where the trains ran. I'd hear the whistle and run to the window to catch a glimpse. Sometimes my grandmother would let me stand on the front steps to watch. The sound of that whistle and those glimpses began my enchantment with trains. Once in a while I still ride by that house and pause where the tracks used to be. The station is still there, now someone's house. I wonder if they know.

In Africa I always rode first class. It was never very expensive. Sitting in a compartment always made me feel just a bit like a character in an English novel of the 1920's. I'd shut the door, settle into my leather arm chair and watch the world whiz by my window. I never wanted to miss a single thing. At each station, women would run to the windows to sell food. I'd buy bread, maybe some bush meat, and toasted coconut balls or those donut like balls the girls always carried in a glass case with wooden slats. I remember once my pocket got picked at the station.

In Europe I traveled by train as often as I could. They were a substitute hotel in my backpack days. I seldom booked a sleeper. Chairs were just fine. I was young. I could sleep just about anywhere. Once I booked a second class couchette on a Finnish train. The compartment had six bunks, three on each side. My friend and I shared with strangers. I remember lying in my bunk and being lulled to sleep by the rhythmic sound of the train on the tracks. I still love that sound.

It has been a very long time since I last traveled by train.

North Star: Jesse Winchester

This song is from Third Down 110 To Go, his second album and a 1972 release.

Jesse Winchester is too amazing to describe in a small square. Go check him out. Try Wikipedia or the Canadian Encyclopedia under music.


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You Can't Make Somebody Love You: Delta Moon

This song comes from their self titled album released in 2002. Gina Leigh, Mark Johnson, and Tom Gray are the original three who formed Delta Moon, and they are usually joined by percussionists, drummers, and bassists. On this album, Tommy Dean is on bass and backing vocals and Charles Wolfe and Gerry Hanson are on drums.


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"There's a long, long trail a-winding into the land of my dreams. "

Yesterday, another cowhand and I repaired the fence on the back forty to keep the dogie from wandering. We used chicken wire and a staple gun to extend the height of the back fence. Last night I manned the tower and swept the yard with bright lights to deter escapees. The count was accurate at the end of the night. Gracie stayed put.

I hope to do another trip sometime before Christmas. Each night I plow through travel sites and read the stories of intrepid wanderers. I want to go where I haven't been. When I was a little kid, I had dream trips. My imagination had full rein. I often went on safari. I saw myself in khaki, wearing my pith helmet and hacking my way through the jungle while porters carried my supplies on their heads. I stopped to watch the lions resting on the savanna grasslands and the animals drinking at the water hole. I slept in a tent with a mosquito net and ate dinner by candlelight. Each night I heard drums, the roars of lions and the bellowing of elephants.

I traveled by camel to the pyramids and the sphinx. I wore a loose robe, a cover over my mouth to keep the sand out and a turban on my head. The camel jounced me across the sand. We stayed the night at an oasis. I slept by the fire in a sleeping bag.

Those trips still have a hold on me. I dream of the Okavongo, of taking a boat ride into the delta to see animals. I'm not wearing a pith helmet. I see a trip down the Nile. I see pyramids and sand. I don't see a turban.

I have actually been pricing these trips. The Egypt one is within my price range; the Okavongo will have to wait a bit longer.

Ashes on Your Eyes: Deb Talen

Deb Talen had classical training in the clarinet and piano and recorded two albums with a group she formed called Hummingfish. When the group disbanded in 1999, she left Oregon and moved to Boston. While there she recorded Something Burning, her first of two albums for Happyhead Music.

This is from her third album, A Bird Flies Out. Deb Talen is also one half of the Weepies.


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Havana Midnight: Bob Neuwirth

Music has its own spot in my soul, a spot reserved for it alone. Some songs find that spot as soon as I hear them while others work their magic a bit slower. I don't know why some songs and not others. They have little in common, these songs, not the same singer or the same genre or even the same decade. They just have that spot in common. Bob Neuwirth's Havana Midnight found that spot.

http://www.bobneuwirth.com/pages/original/info.html


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"Red meat is not bad for you. Now blue-green meat, that’s bad for you! "

Gracie is a recidivist who jumped the fence again last night. I called and called, and when she didn't come, the troops were mobilized. My friends found her close to their house down at the end of the street. I find it odd that Gracie goes on the lam only at night. You'd think she'd want to see where she was jumping. About five feet of fence didn't get the chicken wire last escape so that's my chore for the day.

I am generally a fan of vegetables. My kid list of peas, potatoes and carrots has expanded as I've gotten older. Some vegetables, though, still don't make the cut. I eat spinach, broccoli and cauliflower raw, never cooked, unless you smother that broccoli in so much cheese it takes on a new persona. Beans of any sort never pass these lips. My chili has no beans. I won't eat anything named after a body part. Refried beans look like something already eaten then discarded. I love Brussels but not its sprouts. Artichokes look extraterrestrial which would generally pique my interest, but I find them far too much work. That hot dip is an exception. Radishes even if disguised as roses get cast aside. Zucchini, a fruit hiding as a vegetable, is worthwhile only in bread or muffins. I suspect my list may be controversial, especially to the refried bean lovers, but I can live with that.

Peaches are iffy at best. It's the fur. In Ghana I met up with the mango and pawpaw (papaya) for the first time. The mango tasted a little like furniture polish would, but I learned to like it. The pawpaw was an immediate hit. I don't do olives of any color. I've never seen a breadfruit, but I know it was cargo on the Bounty. I'll eat just about every other fruit.

I love seafood and eat just about every kind of fish and most shellfish. I'm a big fan of lobsters. I don't do oysters, octopus or squid and I'm not too fond of eels. I don't do sushi either.

I am a carnivore, and the list of what I don't eat is short. Liver is on it, even with onions. I once gave tongue a try. It quickly made the short list. The tongue was served on a bed of lettuce, and I kept looking for the person under the table. My sister once sneaked and served me Rocky Mountain oysters. They went on the list. That was far too up close and familiar.

I don't think there is a dessert I wouldn't eat.

One Morning in May: Wendy Grossman

I know little or nothing about Wendy Grossman. I must have heard her, liked her sound and gone hunting. This song is from her 1980 album Roseville Fair. It is, as far as I can figure, her only album.

I found her web page through Wikipedia: http://www.pelicancrossing.net/roseville.htm


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City of New Orleans: Arlo Guthrie

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“If you carry your childhood with you, you never become older.”

It's a glorious morning. When I went to get the papers from the driveway, I stayed out a bit and did a little weeding. There I was in my pajamas weeding my little herb garden. The sun did it to me, made me want to be out just a bit longer.

I get impatient around this time of year. I was okay all winter. I expected to be bundled. I expected to be cold, but it's May, and I want warm. I want lazy days in the sun. I want bare feet. I want ice cream cones and watermelon. I want the smell of meat cooking on the grill. I want breakfast, lunch and dinner on the deck. I want summer.

When I was a kid, summer meant having a whole day to do what I wanted. The choices seemed endless. My brother and I once spent an entire summer at the zoo. One of the zoo keepers had become a friend and let us go behind the cages and feed the animals. I remember carrying pails of vegetables from cage to cage. We even got to feed the elephant. We'd bring our lunches and walk the few miles to the zoo. My mother always gave us bus fare one way, and we chose going home when we were exhausted from our day. It was my favorite summer.

On Route 1 there used to be a place called Kiddy Land. When we went to visit my grandmother, I always looked for the top of the small roller coaster and harbored a hope that some day we'd go to Kitty Land, and I'd ride that coaster. I remember when we did. My parents told us to get in the car for a surprise ride. When we got close to our surprise, they told us where we were going. We shouted and laughed and made kid noises. My father said we were too loud, and he was turning around to take us home. I remember sitting in the back seat being totally devastated when he said that. My father got to the rotary, circled it and headed home. I was in tears. Just as we started to drive pass that roller coaster, my father pulled into the parking lot. Because Kiddy Land was on the going home side of the road, he had to turn around. My dad thought it was funny. I didn't. I have another memory of that day. I remember the roller coaster ride. I remember the pure joy of going down that hill. I laughed the whole way.

Freight Train Blues: Brownie McGhee

Both songs today come from my favorite label and are from the same album, Classic Railroad Songs from Smithsonian Folkways. The album is filled with root artists and, it, like many of the compilation albums Smithsonian Folkways has released, was my introduction to singers I wouldn't have known otherwise.


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The Wreck of the Number Nine: Rosalie Sorrels

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“If my tongue were trained to measures, I would sing a stirring song.”

My sisters used to bring my mother bouquets of flowers they'd picked themselves. The flowers were mostly dandelions. My mother would gush with surprise and thanks and put her bouquet in a glass with water in the middle of the table. I didn't understand at the time, at the jaded age of ten or eleven, why my mother made such a big fuss over dandelions. I had lost sight of the giving.

I found it again, the fun and joy of giving the perfect gift, the dandelions for the center of the table. My favorite gifts bring back memories or a smile, even a laugh. I buy gifts all year when I find them. They go into my Christmas box, and I keep a running list. So do my sisters. The anticipation still makes us giddy.

My mother and father had good voices. My sister does too. I have cousins who fancy themselves singers, and my uncle believes he can channel Bing Crosby. That's about it for talent in my family, and it's a really big family. My mother had seven siblings. No one plays a musical instrument though another uncle played around with an electric organ for a bit. My rhythm band experience doesn't count. I had been know, in my teen years, to be quite dramatic, but that had more to do with not getting what I wanted than an innate talent. I have always wanted to able to sing in public. I don't mean on a stage. I mean in a crowd at the ballgame or on a bus. Off tune takes on a whole new meaning when I sing. Even that one small scrap of family talent jumped me. I figure I must have been standing in the wrong line at the gene pool.

This Old Guitar: John Denver

I used to be a John Denver fan then I stopped being one, stopped listening for the longest while. I found him too syrupy. I'm back now to being a fan. I like the gentleness of his voice and his lyrics. This is from Back Home Again.


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House at Pooh Corner: Nitty Gritty Dirt Band

This is from the album Uncle Charlie and His Dog Teddy.


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"In memory everything seems to happen to music."

I love writing Coffee each day. It conjures memories I'd long forgotten, brings old friends back and lets me touch the child I once was. The images in my head are vivid.

I remember my brother's clunky old bike. It had front and rear bumpers, a thick middle crossbar and enough chrome to reflect light signals into space. The seat was big and black. He'd hold on to the handle bars, run along side, jump on the seat then pedal like crazy. The bike had a chain. The brakes were part of the pedals. We'd ride all over town and race from one spot to another. I don't remember who won. It wasn't all that important.

My sister broke her leg riding her tricycle down the grassy hill in front of our house. She was really little and wasn't completely potty trained. The cast bore the brunt of her training and it smelled bad. My mother used perfume and powder to disguise the odor.

My mother used to tell me that shaving my legs would just make the hair thicker and darker. I didn't care. Without saying anything, I started shaving my legs. I sneaked my mother's razor to do it. I still remember when she noticed. We were at a lake where we'd often go. She and I were in a row boat, just sitting and talking. She noticed and asked how long I'd been shaving my legs. I told her. She never mentioned it again.

I once got caught cheating on a test. I was a freshman in high school, and it was French class. My friend needed help, and I gave it willingly. The nun caught us. She asked me which answers I had given my friend. I told her, and the nun told me to mark them wrong. They were the only ones on the test I got wrong. I never cheated again.

Sometimes I'll be doing something and a memory will pop into my head, one I hadn't thought of in years. I get to live a bit of my life over again. I love those moments.

Mama Said They'd Be Days Like This: The Shirelles

This song always makes me smile. I think of all the things my mother told me about eating my carrots, not swimming so soon after eating, never swallowing gum, how it's too cold to snow and on and on, and I know somewhere, sometime she must have warned me there would be days like this.


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Mother The Queen of My Heart: Ramblin Jack Elliott

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In My Mother's Eyes: Willie Nelson

I don't usually do the same artist in posts so close together, but this perfect is for today.


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Does Your Mother Know: Gordon Lightfoot

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"Each day of our lives we make deposits in the memory banks of our children."

Today I celebrate my mother.

Every year I post this same entry about my mother. I figure I have thousands more memories, but these will give you a hint at how neat my mother was. She was one of a kind though I suspect we all believe that about our moms.

She favored the standards and was a Sinatra, Tony Bennett and Johnny Mathis fan. A line in a conversation or on television prompted her to burst into song. She loved to do crossword puzzles. There were always books of them around the house, and I used to try and fill in some of the spaces. My mother loved crime: before, during and after. She watched every crime program and loved Law and Order. One program was a repeat we had both seen so many times I'd call her at the beginning of the first scene and say gypsy cab. She knew exactly what I meant. We always laughed at our shared memory. She watched all those TV judges because they made her laugh. Disasters too were tops on her list of must watch programs. She watched just about every tornado touch down and hurricanes wreak havoc up and down the coast. We used to play games and games of Big Boggle at the kitchen table. She would hum to distract me. My mother loved Christmas and always found just the right presents. Our stockings were the stuff of legends. She'd buy a new ornament or decoration and comment every time that it was the last one she'd buy then she'd find another. She was generous. She spent weeks here when I was ill. That's what mothers do I was told. She took the whole family on a cruise through the Panama Canal. The laugh was if we'd misplaced her, check the slots. We played Jeopardy every night on the phone. Our last trip together was when she, my sister and I flew to Colorado as a surprise for my other sister's fiftieth birthday. We had the best time.

I thank my mother for all she taught me, all she gave me and for her endless love.

Happy Mother's Day!