Simplifying; Medicine For The Mind
At three o’clock on Thursday afternoon I strolled into the Otter River State Park. It was a ghost town. I was shocked because it was Memorial Day weekend, so I was expecting a zoo. I set up my tent for the first time of the summer at campsite 45, a big campsite right on the water. After my summer home was assembled I pulled out my folding chair and started a fire. As the fire crackled, the feeling of complete freedom crept quickly into my bones. I was there and I was doing it. I had dreamed about this moment my entire life. There is something about the smell of a campfire and the feeling of pine needles at my feet, it makes me feel like an old cowboy. It makes me feel more in touch with everything. Myself, my surroundings, and my music. Everything slows down. When you have less, you are forced to focus on more important things.
While shopping for bait earlier that morning I got into a conversation with the elderly shopkeeper. The bait shop was located in the living room of a small quant colonial home, one mile south of Otter River. Before I could enter the front door I was prompted to press the doorbell. After an awkward one minute wait on the front porch, the old man appeared around the corner wearing a blue flannel and some dark colored Lee jeans. On his feet he wore bright white sneakers. It seemed as though time had forced him to trade his steel toed boots for velcro strap walking shoes and a cane. He was a man with a dark disposition, reminded me of an old junkyard pitbull. I aksed for a dozen night crawlers. He moaned and slowly fetched a white container from his white Coleman cooler. As I was checking out, the man asked me where I was going fishing and I told him Beamon Pond. I explained that I was camping at Otter River and I asked him what kind of fish are in Beamon Pond. The old man finally loosened up, let out a loud sailor-sounding laugh, and said, “Son you won’t catch shit in Beamon Pond…actually, I lied, maybe you’ll hook some goose shit.” I said thanks and headed out the door.
I grabbed my fishing pole and I set my sights on proving the old shopkeeper wrong. As I was casting and reeling, and casting and reeling, I had a vision. I was hoping so badly to see a huge whooper of a fish take my line so I could hook it and bring it back to the bait shop. Fast forward…I caught seven fish in Beamon Pond and not one of them was any longer than my index finger. Regardless of failing to hook the big one, I was having the time of my life. Me and the world hanging out. I realized then that it didn’t matter how big the fish were or how many I had caught, the fact that I was fishing was most important.
After staying two nights in the woods I packed the tent and headed to Foxboro, MA, the site of the 2009 NCAA Men’s Lacrosse Final Four. I played a show with John and Lewk in the parking lot before and in between the days two planned games. The show was great…loud! This is the last time that I will play with a band for the rest of the summer so I certainly focused on a jam centered set. Lots of gaps for experiments.
Syracuse beat Duke and Cornell beat Virginia. Looks like a central New York final…very cool, I am proud of both teams. Tomorrow I have a show with Pete Francis and Barefoot Truth, should be a fun show! I am looking forward to it. I don’t have much time left to look forward to it because today will be yesterday tomorrow. Slow down and breath.
