Willow Tree Festival

Just got back from the Willow Tree Festival up in Nebraska. Good times. Nice folks. Chilly weather. Very small town. Played with Dave Nezat on drums and Wes Heilman on bass. Got to know the guys on the way up and back. There was plenty of time to think.

How many tiny towns there are in the world. How many people grow up, work, and grow old all across this giant country. Old houses. Generations of families sprouting and withering. How each tiny community has its churches, schools, restaurants, streets. How the culture can be so completely different just a few hours' drive away. Metropolis to dusty wooden barn. Skyscraper to corn field. How narrow my view becomes when I'm stuck in my home town.

Humanity is impressive. I walked into an antique store in the town of Gordon. The store was an old house so stuffed with old things that the air smelled old. Dusty. I could hardly navigate around all the old stuff in the place: things of metal and glass and old wood and leather. Humanity's old possessions: old watches that no longer ticked, ice cream churns from the time before ice. The place redefined eclecticism. It reminded me, in a way, of the Catacombs beneath Paris where human bones are stacked to the ceiling and run back and across as far as you can see into the darkness. The antique store is that epitome of human remains.