Like the homeless guy named Larry who lives a block from my
office near the Cherry Creek bike path downtown. He’s a self-sufficient guy who
keeps all his belongings in a little cart he hitches up to his bike and covers
with plastic bags. I see him there when I walk my dogs by the creek. He was
always with his companion, a big furry husky. My dogs like to greet his dog and
that gives me a chance to slip Larry a $10.
These kinds of stories really get to me. Like Woody Allen said in Annie Hall, " I can't enjoy anything unless everybody is. If one guy is starving someplace, that puts a crimp in my evening."
Which leads me to the point of this article. For a change, this article is not about public
relations. It’s about inspiration. When I need something to believe in, when I hope
for a fresh start, I think of the talented, creative, almost famous troubadours
who make music because the music is reward enough. They are the lifers.
Toward the end of The Last Waltz, Robbie Robertson explains
why The Band is breaking up. He says the road eventually catches up with
everyone and he does not want to keep testing the odds. He says the road caught
up with Hendrix, Joplin, Hank Williams, Elvis, and so many others, and he does
not want to join that list. At some point in my life I completely understood
what Robbie meant. I lost my endurance and got off the road too. Every musician
I know understands this, but the special ones have the passion to be undaunted
and unafraid.
That’s why the lifers are my heroes. Ramblin’ Jack. Tim O’Brien. Mark Diamond. Mary Flower, Pete Wernick, Barry Mitterhof, Harry Tuft, and so many others I’m lucky to call friends. They inspire me to believe that
anything is possible.
So to all the cats who ever played bad gigs in crummy bars
for loud drunks who never listen, here’s lookin’ at you, kids. Best wishes for
a happy, healthy, safe and prosperous 2012.
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