March 7th, 2021. It’s March.

It’s March. So it’s a year. And I’m sad.

My friend, who I didn’t know really well, but who was still my friend – has died. And I’m attending a Zoom song share memorial THING – we don’t have words for what these things are // and Hugh McGowan is dead.

We played one of his songs. Tom Bianchi reached out and asked us to play. I don’t think I’d have thought to do it if he hadn’t emailed me last night. And I was feeling overwhelmed and we almost didn’t do it. But I’m glad we did. Because it’s been a fucking YEAR and I’m sad.

It’s not just Hugh. It’s Ernie and its Kristen’s aunt and uncle. And it’s Ari. And it’s Morrell. And it’s Chris and it’s… it’s March.

That means it’s been a full year since we started having to make stupid, hard decisions, canceling performances, cutting my open mics. One year ago today I wrote a Journal entry encouraging everyone to be cautious and to assure everyone that WE were being careful. We’d already been talking a lot about washing hands and keeping your distance at shows. Hell, in a NORMAL flu season we verge on paranoia because getting sick makes singing and playing kind of hard – and that’s our bread and butter – or at least shrimp, grits and fine tea…

A week later I was writing “we are cancelling our next several shows and I am cancelling my open mics till April… I think it’d be wise to be smart, even if it appears foolish, in order not to have been an idiot.”I got some encouragement. I got some pushback. I made some people really angry. Others were very relieved. A week after THAT and it seemed like a lot more people were on the same page.

A year ago this month I hugged the last person outside of my “pod” in a parking lot in Silver Spring. Jimmy Stewart. We had our last recording session with someone outside our pod. We took a walk and saw some baby snakes.

By the end of the month we were receiving cancelations out to the summer and had begun our weekly webcast “Live from the Lair”. I’d begun reading children’s stories daily at 6pm, but my patience for reading gave out 2 months later after 50 books – long before the stories did. By the end of the month our first friend had died – not of COVID but as with so many of these things – in a world where health care was suddenly complicated by paranoia and misinformation.

By now several dozen friends have tested positive at some point, a dozen or so have been very, very sick, and a half dozen have died – and though we’ve only had one friend to die directly from COVID-19, it all FEELS connected that we should have so many deaths in our community, our open mic scene, our fanbase and friendbase…

Take nothing for granted. Not in a cynical way. In a beautiful way. Play in the snow. Play in the sun. But you know – protect yourself.  Wear some mittens and some sunscreen and a mask. We’re worth it.

And it’s March. And we took a walk. And we saw some baby snakes in the exact same spot as before.

And they were dead. And it’s been a year. And I’m sad.

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The memorial service is over. And I’ve cried a bit. You know, in a manly way.

We Live such strange Lives as artists. We’re all about Living intensely and making it all about us but then turning it around and making US relatable enough so that it’s all about YOU. And tonight – a roomful of old friends and people who are … if not friends then at least co-conspirators in this big VISION that is the music scene… Ryan Montbleau and Tom Bianchi and Teresa Storch and Eric Schwartz, Greg Klyma, Ryan Fitzsimmons, Jonathan Byrd… Michelle Lewis and even in the “audience” : Danielle Miraglia, Rebecca Loebe – people who we’ve shared rooms and mics and songs and Lives and Loves.

We were all just KIDS when we thought this music thing was a good idea! None of us dreamt we’d get old. Some of us didn’t.

I don’t know. It’s all so beautiful.

I step out of the basement. Heather heads home. I break down a bit more and pet the cat. Kristen listens. I don’t know if she gets it. I don’t know if *I* really get it.

I open the front door to let the cold air in for a bit, let it dry my face. A man is walking by in the darkness with a dog who growls at me. He tugs on the leash. “C’mon”. I think of how I must look to him – silhouetted and watching him go by. I don’t know if his dog’s normally sweet and just feeling threatened. He doesn’t know I’m openly weeping. We don’t know ANYTHING.

I found Kristen’s Nintendo in the basement yesterday and got it up and running. She’s playing Tetris and it’s just so… normal. But the last time I heard these songs was back when Sonny Roelle wrote i love you And I Miss You songs to them back… you know… when we were kids thinking this whole music thing was a good idea – never dreaming we’d ever get old!