Miss Wilbur

The last few days of tour have been more enjoyable since we discovered the solution to our ongoing Tourmobile saga. If the starter won’t turn over, one simply must lie on their back under the car’s engine and tap on the starter box while another turns the ignition. It’s a dirty and loud way to start a car, but it's fine because the electric shock from the starter only makes its way up the hammer to your highly conductive fore-arm about 1/3 of the time! Nothing wrong with a little shock under the belly of your Suburban in the morning to start the day's drive off right...

In a much less electric Tourmobile scenario, we had a great experience picking up a hitchhiker on our way out of Santa Fe, going toward Lubbock, TX (where we had a raging show with the Red Raiders Thursday night). Mom, I know what you are thinking and trust me, we don’t normally pick people up from the side of the road. But the minute we saw Aaron standing in the hot desert sun with a turquoise peace-sign necklace and his trusty sidekick, Ms. Wilbur, on a leash by his side, we determined he didn’t exactly fit the description of those psycho-killer-axe-murdering types you'd like to avoid on the interstate.

Helping Aaron make his way down the road turned out to be a truly enlightening experience for the band. The energy we had observed about him as he stood patiently in the sun manifested itself in conversation after he ran to catch up with our waiting vehicle. He began by telling us that he had been on the road for around 7 years, “not really being a apart of anything”. Many would paint someone as a bum or hobo after hearing a statement like that. However, just because our new passenger was on the road and sleeping outside, sun-infused wrinkles on his face, didn’t mean he was unemployed or lazy by any means. At a gas stop, Aaron actually bought us a gallon of milk to go along with some delicious [and economically efficient] PB&J sandwiches.

It turned out that he and Ms. Wilbur (one of the friendliest dog-souls I have ever encountered), travel from Oregon to the Ozark mountains in Arkansas every year to help create all-natural creams and tinctures, organic medicines for sale (www.healin-hollers.com) .

Aaron rightfully stole Ms. Wilbur from an abusive owner, taking her into the woods for “two moon-cycles” (months), without laying a human hand on the dog. I could sense an energy of relief and love for Aaron in the animal, as she slept for the whole ride to Lubbock with her head on my lap.

As we talked, I marveled at how composed and articulate Aaron was, despite the transient and uncertain nature of his existence. At least uncertain in contrast to my admittedly protected suburban upbringing.

But as a musician on the road, I cannot have anything but respect for a man that attaches himself to very few material objects (a key tenet of Buddhism), and is just as organized and content as anyone operating in what most of us would call, “the real world”. The absence of materialism in his life seems especially appropriate this week as we are watching the demise of financial markets in the US, brought about by greed and overzealous borrowing for material objects.

As we said goodbye to Aaron and left him on one of the hundreds of highways he will travel in his life, we observed an elevated mood in the Tourmobile. The dude was truly a kindred soul, and had a wonderful nomadic, warm presence surrounding him. He wished us Frogs the world in our travels and we agreed that we hope to see him again, somewhere down the line.