Will Dudley: News

He knows what it is to live free
And this mustang, he sure doesn't want to see me.
So he lays back his ears
And rears into the air
Prances round the corral,
as if to dare me
Or anyone crazy enough to come near... to beware.

I look at the sky and speak to the wind
Of the will of a horse and
the need of a friend
And for three months of summer
I carry his water
Talk to him slow
As I feed him his dinner
And we share these canyons that I'll never leave
He knows what it is to be free.

I'm breaking horses
In Colorado
Deep in these canyons
Where the wind seldom blows
Breaking wild horses
Until I'm too old
Breaking wild horses
in Colorado

He knows what it's like to be free
So I give him the best part of me
I'll gentle him down, best that I can
I'll draw the hard line, and keep a firm hand
Someday the warden will take him from me,
But he knows what it is to be free
He knows what it is to be free.

Rockefeller owns the mines in Colorado
There’s nothing that the union boys can do.
He hires Greeks, Italians, Mexicans and Indians
They work them in the mines,
Then throw them out when they get through

Rockefeller pays his money to the governor
The Governor sends his soldiers and militia bosses down
The bosses pay a bounty to the sheriff in the county
For every union organizer found...
There’s a lot of people buried in this ground.

They lay dead in trenches down in Ludlow
They died there under U.S. Army guns
They' killed Greeks, Italians, Mexicans and Indians
Rockefeller's generals got it done

Rockefeller owns the mines in Colorado
He buys the politician there, as well.
He hires Greeks, Italians, Mexicans and Indians
They put them in the mines and let them dig their way to hell.


They hire them off the ships way down in Texas
They work em in the mines until they’re dead or dying slow
They don’t speak no English, they ain’t human, not like you and me
They breed like rats, they live in filth,
But still they’re good for digging coal

They heat the homes of good folks up in Denver
All the way to Kansas, St. Louis just as well
Them Greeks, Italians, Mexicans and Indians
Who work the mines in Rockefeller's Hell.

Sometimes the hardest things to do are the simplest and easiest tasks to perform. To stand and speak is a simple task. The topic can be monumentally difficult, next to impossible, or a piece of cake. To sit down and write is a simple task. What to say when your life is a ribbon of road and your home is a rest stop is another thing. I have to go to Arizona, I have to be in Tennessee, I'd rather be in Texas in the fall, and it's a beautiful summer in Colorado. In spite of the sunny days, the gigs and the music, the rest is a ball of yarn, all tangled and knotted, and I feel like I'm lost in the dark. I wonder where the friends of my youth have gone, not in fact but in spirit. My parents are gone, my brother is dead, my war is in the history books and the wife of the young man who was me is buried in Chicago. One of my best pals woke up one day and decided he was a Republican activist, and now all he listens to is Rush Limbaugh. So much for optimistic, positive, forward looking points of view. Fast forward to an Obama basher who doesn't even think the President's an American citizen and expects me to not laugh and shake my head in disbelief.
The music of the summer is going well, and the Charlie Daniels Band is performing the song Taz and I wrote in their concerts. I hope the song has a future on radio, it's called "100 Miles from Memphis." I should be more stoked, but my personal life is in a shambles, my car runs great but I've seen more cops than deer and elk this summer. Oh, well, I can sleep safely knowing they're out there protecting my right to be an old hippie cowboy still dumb enough to be a road musician.

Moving into the summer season of singing at the different guest ranches, Colorado has shown her glorious summer colors. It's been raining for the last number of evenings, fast moving storms that spread the greater portion of their moisture out over the eastern plains. There aren't enough superlatives to describe the panoramic views that make southern Colorado such a special place. The deer and the elk aren't as numerous this year as I've seen in the past, but the summer is still young. I look forward to it.

Waking up to warm weather and mowing the lawn, I can't keep my mind off of an email I got a week ago. I woke up last Wednesday, and read the email from Florida... a Grammy winning producer, so says the man in Florida, has taken a "significant interest" in my music. The email went on to request a package containing bio, photo and CD's, and that I could expect to hear back from this man who produced huge stars in the eighties and ran a major record label in Nashville for years.

I was flabbergasted. Is he interested in my songwriting (possible) my guitar playing (doubtful) or my singing? As a songwriter, as a guitar player, or as a singer?
Hmm... I wondered about this as I read the email. Being a little vain about my singing, I finally figure "Wow, I finally got a shot..." Then I thought about a 57 year old cowboy singer raised on Mick Jagger and Homer and Jethro and Ray Price... the dreamer who sounds more like yesterday's wine than flavor of the month.

"I won the lottery," I think to myself. My delusions kick in so easily, and I'm so dumb. The company that sent me this email was a PO Box in Florida with the word "entertainment" after some initials. I sent a letter, and a movie poster with my face on it. I had to trim the poster to get it into the envelope. I sent a dvd of a movie I acted in last November, and two Will Dudley CD's. My credentials are in the lines on my face in that video. I'm impulsive, and I crowed like a peacock in the letter.

They probably got the package by Monday, and today being Thursday I expect I'll hear from someone in the next few days who will blow a lot of hot air toward me about either my songs or my singing, and then ask me for a lot of money to fund the production work of the Grammy winning producer who once ran one of the largest record companies of its day.

I don't mean to sound cynical, but I am. It's hard to beat the hope out of a guy like me. I followed the link in the email, and read the web site carefully after sending off the package; it is the website of a Grammy winning producer. It is the opening to a world I used to dream about; and if they ask me for money to fund a project using his production talents, I will finally understand how easy it is to disrespect a poor man's dream.

I have no money. I'm a musician. All I have are dreams; all I have to offer is hope. Not to be totally dark on this topic, there is a way. If this man ran a big label, he might have enough clout to get my songs recorded by someone who sells a lot of records and gets more radio airplay than I ever will. My ship may not ever really come in, but just the fact of the email means that my little light is shining somewhere.

I couldn't be happier. We are rich men, poor men, beggars and thieves wandering through theses dusty halls, just trying to leave some sort of mark, and mine is small but meaningful to me. I love this life. Every creton and ignorant bigot deserves to be here getting what they deserve. Every arrogant fool deserves their delusion, and I'll have my share of mine, please. I'm due for a major life change. Don't know what it is, but it's coming.

Summer is on almost here, and like it always is, the winter and spring here in Colorado are unpredictable in all things except beauty.
I look forward to my trips into the mountains each summer. There are amazing bookstores in Georgetown, and a caboose that's been turned into a hamburger joint in Jefferson; there are antique stores and an old hotel and courthouse here in Walsenburg, and some pretty good fishing up around Tarryall and Blue Mesa, not to mention along the Conejos and the Rio Grande.

I went over to Durango last Thursday night for a Charlie Daniels Band concert; they performed the song I wrote with Taz, and it'll be in their concert lineup through the summer into the fall at least. The audience responses, according to Taz, have been very very good. They liked it in Durango. I invited my friends Bob and Terri Beecher to go with me, they got to meet Charlie and Taz and hang out backstage with me during the show. The Bar D Wranglers are a cowboy vocal band from Durango that opened the concert, and they did a fine performance. I made it back over Wolf Creek Pass about ten minutes ahead of a blizzard on Friday morning, which blanketed Walsenburg for two days. The snow is pretty much gone now, but the wind is big.

The writing in Nashville was a successful co-writing venture with Taz DiGregorio, Charlie Daniels' long time piano player. The song, "A Hundred Miles from Memphis," works for both of us. Hopefully it will all translate into the recording, which we'll do tomorrow. It may be that I'm out of here after we finish the recording. I have my trailer in Arizona to deal with, and I really ought to check my mail in Colorado.

I got the English degree I was looking for, and shared the moment with Rod and Junelle Pringle.

Rod baptized me last Easter at the Church of Christ in Gunnison, and has been a role model and a brother and a friend and mentor to me for ten years. His wife Junelle has shown me the kind of patience and friendship that is generally only reserved for family.

I'm in Nashville writing this; I'm writing a series of songs with Taz DiGregorio for a future recording. Taz has been Charle Daniels' piano player and the soul of his band now for almost forty years; an unsung hero of Southern Rock. We're working from a blues base and writing hillbilly songs with folk lyrics. Taz is one of the very best ragtime and blues pianos I've ever heard besides maybe Dr. John or Leon Russell, and he's got their chops as well as a bunch of his own.

The movie Katabasis Destiny is done, and I actually have a portfolio now that includes drama on film. I'm proud of the work I did, and believe I represented the Gunnison Valley well through the dialogue and story. I hope the songwriting with Taz goes as well as the film went. I think the film is going to festivals and such... whever it goes, I wish 'em luck, it's a tragic and sad tale, something I know a bit about, because everybody knows that the life of a cowboy in the twentyfirst century has to be at least a bit of a conundrum.

Katabasis... a hero's descent into hell. Sunday we wrapped a shoot on a video production of a short western film. It was filmed at the 7-11 ranch outside of Gunnison, home to the filming of fourteen Marlboro commercials back in the day. The story is of a man named John who is facing a few demons. The director of the film is also the head of the video department at Western State College, where I'm finishing up a degree this December. He asked me to do this in September, and I agreed. For four days we worked from sunup to sundown and past, filming in an old cabin and barn 20 miles or so east of town. The weather cooperated for the most part, and the film will be aired on Dec. 15th. They did a great job. I hope my acting skills are up to par, and that I represent the school in a manner that will make them proud.

It was grand. I thought maybe I could just kind of quietly cruise through it, but I forgot about the Facebook thing... they ask you for your birthday, and I was bombarded with "Happy Birthday, Will!!!" by all of the girls in my classes at Western State, and a large number of the guys also. It was great, it was embarrassing, it was funny and it made me feel good all day long. Guys don't take nearly as many upper level English classes as girls do, especially courses like "Women's Literature" and "Faulkner" and "The Theory of Literature." In fact, there's just not many guys majoring in English... ?? OK by me... I started out being one of about 4 guys in the "Women's Lit." class, but it seems the other fellas left... I gotta say, though, that discussing Virginia Woolf and Willa Cather and Eve Sedgwick and Ruth Ozeki and Toni Morrison in a room full of young, beautiful women takes daily resolve and a certain amount of courage.
Haaaa.... So... thanks, Ashley, thanks, Chelsea, and Sarah and Kateland; thanks, Krista and Melissa and Cassie, thanks Amanda and Amanda, thanks Tiffany and Tiara and Katie and Cat and Lacey and Erica; and a special thanks to the lovely and talented Dr. Cristi, whose class discussion made my birthday one I'll never forget. (We discussed womanhood) : )

Is not something I've done since 1969. I'll wear one on December 20th, a Saturday. My brother died in Iraq in 2006, and I knew that one year of grieving wouldn't be enough. I'm a singer; how could I sing with my jaw hanging open in awe at the craziness of losing my younger brother, my only brother? I had to make sense of the senseless, so I quit singing in Arizona between October and May and went back to school to learn how to live with this. It's been two and a half years, the war's still going on in Afghanistan and Iraq, and it depresses me. I'm finishing my B.A. this semester, probably about thirty years too late, and only because something too traumatic to handle hit me in the face and I thought "what would Jon really like?". I knew he'd want me to finish something longer than a song for once in my life.

It's July the 10th. Happy birthday, Janice.

The economic stress has hit the road pretty hard, and I've gone from seven nights a week singing to six and five nights a week. The dude ranches are feeling the pinch in a lot of ways, and most folks are having to change their lifestyle in ways to accommodate the cost of fuel. That's food and gas. I released a new cd on CDBaby, and it should be available on itunes pretty soon. Summer here in Colorado is beautiful, and next month I'll be finishing my last semester toward a degree in English at Western State College here in Gunnison. I stay home a lot when I'm not traveling to and from gigs, and try to move toward the light, when it appears.

2007 is toast; gone the way of the dodo, and there has been much to think about.

I finished another semester of higher learning? on the campus of Western State College in Gunnison, Colorado, and am facing another year before completing the program I should have finished 30 years ago. Somehow, though, I don't think I would have appreciated it nearly as much if I'd done it then. It's so much more fun to go back to college after a 25 year career on the road. There are drawbacks, but those are fairly minimal, and at the worst, a minor distraction. I like being around fresh minds, and enjoy the workout my brain gets from having to work again at remembering trivial (yet somehow uniquely important) bits of information that I know I not only won't ever use, but will forget 30 seconds after the quiz. I have found a lot of enjoyment writing short stories, (next article, "Shaman," is an example) and the English language is way too beautiful, but frankly, revisionist history and the education of the younger minds in areas like foreign policy scare me. Having been to war and seen "the elephant," I have to wonder at the sanity of macro politics and the idea of an American empire. Still, it's important to know what the fools in charge are stealing, who they're killing and raping, and what their justifications are for such necessary actions.

In my life, not much has changed. I'm booked through summer at a number of guest ranches, and am looking forward to finishing school next fall. My tentative plan is to book a six month tour beginning Jan. 2009, preferably in places I've never seen before. Canada, Ireland or Australia come to mind as possibilities. It's warm in December in Australia, but Ireland is where my side of the Dudley family came from, and I always loved hearing that accent; plus I'm a huge fan of Van Morrison and Guinness. Hmmmm....

I'd like to recommend four CD's to my fans, (or anyone else who reads this) one being Levon Helm's "Dirt Road" CD, another being Allison Krauss and Robert Plant's CD, the Eagles' new "Long Road Out of Eden," and the fourth being Tracy Grammer's EP "Book of Sparrows." And of course, anything by Tom Russell, who writes better songs more consistently than any other singer songwriter I ever heard.

"Well, it's dark in here.
I can't see the sky.
But I got this here blue wing and I close my eyes.
And I fly away, beyond these walls.
Up above the clouds where the rain don't fall
On a poor man's dream."
(Tom Russell)

Summer went like a snowman in July. I started with a goal, I wanted to play a hundred gigs in a hundred nights. It's even more fun when you can get paid for it a hundred times. I started on May 27, and ended on September 19th, on a seven night cycle. Sundays I'd go to the North Fork. I knew it was five o'clock on Sunday when I turned right off of Highway 285 and slipped down that old dirt road to Karen and Dean's. The routine was one the North Fork and I have been comfortable with for ten years or so. I show up, be polite, have dinner with them and usually about 40 guests. Sometime after dinner, the children of the guests and some of the grown up kids too all take a hayride which ends up at the campfire where they all have chocolate and marshmallows and coffee and sit on logs while I sing for an hour or so, tell a few cowboy poems, and ask them to join in on a chorus of "You Don't Have to Call Me Darlin', Darlin.
Time flew, I was having fun. Sundays turned to Sundays in September, and the trees began to change. Then on the 21st of Sept., I did a gig with Juni Fisher, from Franklin, Tennessee at the Rainbow Trout to finish the Dude Ranch season, it was a success pretty much all the way around. About Juni, she's written some of the funniest and also prettiest cowboy songs I ever heard. Because she lives in Franklin, she has the bonus of the use of some of those world renowned Nashville pickers, and her CD's are great. She's pretty good on the live circuit, too, I'm thinking. I enjoyed working with her very much. The Powderhorn Ranch finally told me that the two weeks I performed there for the unisex groups were their gay and lesbian weeks, I had to wonder how dumb a guy could be to not see that. One of the other ranch owners said I didn't have any "gay-dar." OK. How bout them Rockies. I predict a joyous October for Colorado baseball fans. Speakin' of Rockies, I met Rocky Blyer, a member of the Pittsburgh Steelers when Terry Bradshaw was quarterback. He was vacationing at the Rainbow with his grandchildren, getting a little trout fishing in here in America. Earlier this summer I had the opportunity to be involved in a reality television show for the Women's Entertainment channel on cable. I performed the song "Trying to Rope the Moon," it's going to air mid October on a reality dating show.

I didn't hit any deer or elk this summer with my trusty Jeep, although motoring through these mountains I did have some pretty close calls. Strangely, three of them came on the same night. I was headed home to Huerfano County over Monarch Pass on a moonless night, and went between two elk on Highway 50. It happened so fast I didn't have time to be scared. About fifty miles further up the road, between Cotapaxi and Westcliff, a deer jumped off the road in front of me, then turned quick and doubled back, missing my passenger side by about an inch. I saw a rabbit do that once, and I ran over it. I don't understand that about these wild critters. Later on up the road, and outside of Gardner, I almost hit another deer. Just one of those lucky nights when everybody saw it coming and got out of the way. Usually elk are off the highway when I see them, and the mule deer here in Colorado are just plain unpredictable.
On August 27th I started at Western State College in Gunnison. I did two semesters at Adams State last year in Alamosa, but my living arrangements were dicey. While I'm attending Western State I'm living on the Waunita Hot Springs Ranch, trading board for helping out, cleaning the pool and trying to keep the fox out of the chickens. There is one very neat thing here that I discovered, and that is these two goofy turkeys that roost on the fence of the corral where they keep the mare and her colt. When the sun goes down, they go up on the fence and sleep there. I expect they're waiting for it to rain so they can look up and drown. I named one of them "Thanksgiving" and the other "Christmas," although around here I suspect they're more like pets.
I'm taking 15 hours this semester, and enjoying it for the most part. I was going to take Sunday off, but Nike and Taz, the two laborador retrievers, took off up the canyon and got into a porcupine on Saturday night, so I spent Sunday taking those quills out. Man, that's a chore, but I have to say, those dogs took it pretty quietly. The rancher, my host and friend Ryan says they'll never learn, and his wife Tammy says I shouldn't feel sorry for them. If we keep Nike on a leash, they both stay home. Apparently the dogs both know where the porcupine lives, and Nike keeps taking off and going up there. They must have had 200 quills in them, all total. Taz had them in his mouth. Nike's nose looked like a pincushion, and he sat there real polite. I was thinking, this dog knows this drill. It's the only time I've ever thought that a dog is better off tied up, but I think in that dog's mind, with regard to the porcupine, it's "HIM OR ME."

I've been writing short stories, I may post one or two here.

I hope my autumn and winter are as blessed as my spring and summer have been.

Just woke up, it's a Saturday morning in Walsenburg, I drove in late from Gunnison, and Tammy and Ryan and Danny and Ev and I are going to be doing some different covers at the Waunita Wranglers shows. I'm thoroughly excited. Here are the way the ranches are shaking out... Monday night, there were 45-50 folk around the campfire at the Tumbling River, and the river was up, running fast, and it looked like excellent fishing. There were two ladies looking for the Bighorn with their binoculars, they bed down in a meadow on the next mountain over, and are easy to watch, and loads of fun to see around sundown. Tuesday I took a horse up into the mountains near the Tarryall, then entertained a group of kids and their parents in the lodge at the Tarryall River Ranch, it was a stellar day. I drove home late that night to Walsenburg, and on Wednesday around noon I took off toward Alamosa, I was thinking it was kind of breezy... I crossed La Veta Pass against a sustained wind of somewhere near 50 or 60 miles an hour, in fifteen years I haven't faced wind like that, and this is in an area where the winds can knock a semi off the interstate. There was no electricity at the Rainbow when I got there, but who needs it? It came back on while we were having dinner, and it made for a very interesting evening performing my cowboy songs for the guests. On Thursday night I was up in the Powderhorn Valley near Lake City, and entertained a large group of men only. This was the first time I'd ever met so many men without the company of a woman any where other than the ranch staff. There were no kids, and my show reflected the audience in an interesting way. I was less cautious in performing, comfortable in my own shoes, and enjoyed the evening greatly. An artist from Germany was there, he invited me to one of his showings in Santa Fe to be held Sept. 15th, his name is Helmut Lohr, he is originally from Dusseldorf to New Mexico via New York City. He made me a sage smudge, it's drying and I intend to burn it when the time's right. Last night I played the Waunita Hot Springs again, overjoyed because last week Ryan said the sale didn't go through, and that he was looking at taking it off the market and exploring the option of a partnership with the ranch that borders theirs. It's perfect, in my simple view, and I hope I play there for many many years. Last Saturday was the Echo Canyon, and Sunday was the North Fork. At the Echo, the bear came by on his way to the trout pond, he likes to fish, too, and at the North Fork I saw friends old and new, and sang around the fire after the hayride. Karen and Dean allowed me the hospitality of their ranch on Monday as well. The truth is, and seems to be borne out every day of my life, that the guest ranches in Colorado mirror their owners, who across the board have shown why this state is the return destination of so many vacationers, summer and winter. OK, now I've had me tea, opened me mail, and wrote in me diary. My best friend from my wilder younger days is getting divorced after 28 years of wedded bliss. Gotta be his fault, or is that just a guy thing? I got some emails from a Doctor in Kerrville, she says I have an incurable case of the Rockin Pneumonia and the Boogie Woogie Blues. She also says those feathers that are growing on my feet are kinda cute. I like 'em, too.
I'm never alone, I love my extended family within the association, and my energy and life are a part of these mountains and deserts here in the southwest. My conscience is my co-pilot, my heart is my navigator... Yup, we're goin' the right way...

I left Colorado on the 14th of May this year, I had two days in Phoenix at the South Pointe Hotel entertaining a group from Wisconsin, on the 16th and the 18th. On the 23rd, in Kerrville, Texas, I entertained at a house party hosted by a teacher from Schreiner College, and it was an amazing experience. Songwriting isn't something I do with great confidence, but always with dedication, and for the simplest of reasons; I don't want to write something that's going to make me look as dumb as I feel most of the time. When I listen to the songs that move me the most, I wonder how I could ever hope to write something half as beautiful, but if I didn't try, I'd be ashamed of myself. I hope the folks in Kerrville enjoyed my visit, I look forward to seeing my new friends there again.
Part of the trip to Kerrville was the Kerrville Folk Festival. I wasn't booked to play there, but 9 years ago I was a "new folk", and I went back to support Tracy Grammer, who was part of a "new folk" duo in 98. Since then she's become a folk singer of renown, something I believe she richly deserves. It rained, and I lost my favorite guitar strap, but I had a wonderful time hanging out and sleeping in my little tent during the frequent storms. I made some new friends, I'll call them Wild Bill and Shakespeare and Jamie and Coney and Jamie's boyfriend, I think his name was Scott, at Chez Rebel, where the best home cooking at the festival was warmed. Something occured to me this year, and I have to write about it. It took me from sometime around 1989 or so until now to get this joke. It has to do with a song I wrote called "The Itty Bitty Outlaw". I played it years ago at a guitar pull in a round with Townes and Doug Dillard and Guy Clark in a bar, and Guy said "How are you ever going to live that down?" I didn't get the pun until this year. The song's about an outlaw who's only 3 foot 2, and he says.. " how are you going to live that DOWN? " For twenty years I didn't get it. This year I got it. Gee zis, I'm slow. I was never sure what Guy meant when he said that, and wondered if my feelings should be hurt, or not. I think not. Isn't it goofy the things we ruminate on for twenty years?
When I got back to Colorado late Saturday night on the 26th, I crashed hard, having driven straight through from Kerrville to Walsenburg. The next morning I called my friends at the North Fork Ranch near Denver, and was reminded that their season started that night, and that I had a weekly summer booking that was due to begin straightaway. Two days later I was part of the filming of a reality show about cowgirls meeting a cowboy. Thing was, they had to teach this cowboy how to ride a horse. I did, however, sing a song I wrote on the show. I sang "Trying to Rope the Moon", and was told it woud air some time in the fall.

Down this blacktop road there is
a town I used to know
It had a general store, and a bar next door
where the farmers liked to go
The houses all lined main street
in a three block Rockwell scene
It was surrounded by an ocean
of corn and summer green

Down this blacktop road,
traffic's kind of thin
Anything that happened here,
happened way back when
Cause the farms were sold,
and the store just closed
And the young folk moved away
As this part of America
became part of yesterday

Down this blacktop road
there is an unused railroad line
And a station no one's left from sinse 1969
There's a two room school where the golden rule
was taught once to the young
There's a church, but it waits empty,
for another time to come.

La Vida Bob would steal and rob along the valley way
Twin pistols hung beside him, the unwary were his prey
The marshal sent the posse out to do what posses do
La Vida Bob he did his job, and robbed the posse too

La Vida Bob, look at you you’re trouble thru and thru
You know the laws you’re breaking will all catch up to you
They’ll shoot you down some day… you know you’ve got to pay
But you don’t think about it, you just go your merry way

La Vida Bob had his job, and I’d say he did it well
He’d kiss the ladies, rob the men, and sent a few to hell
Ladies rode that troubled road just a hoping he’d come by
The sheriff rode that road as well, and swore that Bob would die

La Vida Bob had a red bandana his horse was long and lean
His pistols they were lightning, ivory handles thundering
The sheriff and his deputies just could not bring him in
Every time they thought they had him, he would slip away again.

One afternoon La Vida stopped a lady on her way
He stole her gold and diamonds, but he lost his heart that day
That night he rode up to the hacienda wherein she did dwell
He called her to the shadows, and that is where he fell

And now they say the valley way is safer than it was
LaVida Bob's long in his grave, a victim of his flaws
And in the mountains where she lives, his pistols hang as trophies
Shot down by Josephina, better known as Marshal Sophie.

Good Morning, Denmark. Good morning, Ireland, and Great Britain, Norway, Sweden, Germany and France, and a big hello to Mongolia. God bless each and every one of you for your exuberance and dam near genuine happiness when you hear my music... I am just thrilled at the thought of visiting you all 10,000 at a time. My music, of course, as much as it means to all of you, means little to me beyond being a vehicle I can use to discuss Me, Me, Me!! And of course, what an interesting topic I am. All seriousness aside, though, thanks for the wonderful emails, and for supporting my continued education through the purchase of these wonderful songs for your i pods and digital download files.

If you're going to Arizona this year, say hello to the sunshine.
Say hello the late night rides and the blush of the warm red wines.
Tip your hat to the cacti, as they raise their branches and wave
To a world of strangers moving across their grandfathers' grandfathers' graves.

If you're going to Arizona this year, give a smile from the passenger side.
Make a friend and keep them,
When you leave, don't say goodbye.
Just say hello the next time you need the sun they have to spare.
Say hello to Arizona I'll be wishing I was there.

I played last night at the Echo Canyon Guest Ranch in Cuchara, and the guests were all Coloradans on getaways from Denver, Colorado Springs, and other urban areas, save one couple from Jaw-ja (Georgia, if you're not from there). It's been an interesting summer, to say the least. I've been singing seven nights a week, I went from Memorial Day to sometime in July non stop, I had a day off on August 22, and things quieted down just before Labor Day, when two of the seven ranches contracts ran out, giving me two days off a week to go with my new fall schedule, which is that of a student. It's kind of hectic right now, I have a full load and am planning on not stopping until I get at least a teaching certificate. My plan is to teach and sing, and I know exactly how to go about it. Adams State College in Alamosa, Colorado is a beautiful place. Today I spent part of the afternoon listening to a woman named Christine Keitges singing Mozart, Debussy, Gershwin, and other classical stylings. It was a faculty recital, she is Dr. Keitges, a voice instructor among other things, and a very talented mezzo-soprano. I doubt I'll be singing opera any time soon, but I certainly enjoyed listening.

I learned a lot about myself this year, and decided that the rest of my life should be dedicated to teaching children. There aren't enough men out there doing their jobs. There needs to be more involvement with kids without dads, little boys who barely know what it
means to be a man. I've been a coward all my life, I've been selfish, egocentric, and filled with the amazement of myself. I can bring a smile, I can manipulate an audience, I can spread joy through song! I almost had it. I wasn't doing it for anyone but me! I love singing, it's the most wonderful gift, and it brings me extraordinary joy to lift my voice melodically. It's just not enough. I could bring myself even greater satisfaction if I knew that at the end of the day, I made a difference in some kid's life who might need a whole lot more than just a song. A song can inspire, for sure, but the gift of CARING ABOUT THE WELFARE OF OUR FUTURE, giving of my experience to a child is what I didn't have the courage to offer.
I'm going to be 55 on my next birthday. If I never sang again, I'd still be the luckiest guy on earth. If I don't pass on the best of myself, I'm a failure. I've been passing on what I thought was, but it's just been me smiling at my own reflection in the water. It's time I did something more for some of those who need it most.

The Colorado Dude and Guest Ranch season has come again, and 2006 is going to be a busy one for a lot of real fine ranches. This year I've added the Tarryall River Ranch to my list of clients, and last night I played there for the first time, but not until after a dinner that rivaled any of the finest restaurants in the world. Rocky Mountain Time at this time of year is at its most beautiful, and seeing it from the Conejos or the Arkansas or the South Platte Rivers and the forests and mountains and valleys between Aspen and Albuquerque is something I am truly grateful for. Jason Robert's biography "A Sense of the World" came in the mail today, and I can't put it down. It's the story of James Holman, a British citizen and blind world traveler who lived during the time of the revolutionary war. I think I'm beginning to read an amazing and incredible story.

A great place to read this book might be the front porch of one of the guest ranches here in the Rocky Mountains, miles from city strife.

Is the life that you've been living just a crazy race?
Has the world around you lost its mystery?
Do you search your memory looking for some long lost space?
Do you think there's somewhere else you'd rather be?

Put your watch on Rocky Mountain Time
There ain't no traffic jams up around the timberline
You want some peace and quiet? I know how to find it,
Come on out and rest your mind.

Doe the work that you been doing only wear you down?
Do you feel the need to get away a while?
I know a place where you'd have to listen hard to hear a sound,
And there may not be another soul for miles.

Put your watch on Rocky Mountain Time
Find yourself a river bank
and cast your line.
You want some peace and quiet? I know how to find it,
Come on out and rest your mind.

Put your watch on Rocky Mountain Time
Catch yourself a rainbow,
Get out and hug a pine
Ride a horse
Feel the force of
Mother Nature and
Father Time
Come on out and rest your mind.

It's the end of May, two days before my summer schedule begins, and I just got into Southern by God Colorado from from Seattle and a visit with my sister and a reconnection to family and long time friends, something I needed much more than I knew. While in the northwest, I made my way to Bainbridge Island to hear a concert at the their community center with my sister Deb and her husband Frank. Tracy Grammer and Jim Henry did a wonderful job of entertaining the crowd, and it felt so good to be a fan!! There is no finer balm than listening to such wonderful acoustic music. For the uninitiated, Tracy and Jim bring some of the very best folk music in America to their audiences. Her last CD, "Flower of Avalon", received more airplay from folk stations than any other CD released in 2005. It's my good fortune that she and Jim have tentatively agreed to participate in my next project. I am grateful beyond words for this, and
tomorrow and Friday the 26th will find me recording the beginnings of that project in Alamosa, Colorado, with my friend Don Richmond.
I am hopeful.

I am in Colorado until October, and will continue to do my very best to bring a bit of the west into the lives of the people who come to vacation at the ranches where I'll be playing. I want to say a special hello to Taylor from Kansas,
Ted in North Carolina, Scott in Mongolia (yes, Mongolia), and Randi, who's graduating high school this year in Gunnison.

One thing is true, I will miss Arizona very much, and am looking forward to new beginnings in Wickenburg in October.

One of my songs, "The Ballad of William Dubois" was used this year by an eighth grade class in Arizona, part of an exercise in creative songwriting and poetry. I want to thank Ms. Brooks, the teacher who thought enough of my writing to use the material. I am indebted to her.

For those on their way to Colorado, I'll be singing Sundays at the North Fork in Shawnee, Mondays at the Tumbling River in Grant, Tuesdays at the Tarryall in Lake George twice a month, Wednesdays at the Rainbow Trout near Antonito, Thursdays at the Powderhorn Valley Ranch, Fridays at the Waunita Hot Springs near Gunnison, and Saturdays at the Echo Canyon Guest Ranch in the Cuchara Valley.

Home

Traveling at the earliest hours, I left Wickenburg under a huge full moon.
I got into Colorado and was close to home by 3 in the afternoon on Saturday. Just off of Catchpole Road on Hwy. 84, The Out West is where fine custom western saddles are made, and home to Annie and Mose, Waddie and Terri and Bob. Waddie's a Corgy pup, and Annie and Mose are a couple of pals in the corral, a paint and a friendly old quarter horse.
Terri and Bob are there for the critters, Bob makes custom saddles, and living just west of Wolf Creek, the view of the mountains is just one side of astounding. Terri made me feel right at home, and she and Bob fixed a fantastic pork roast and we all had linguini, beans, and a cobbler and ice cream dessert.