We're not very far from home today. That's by our standards. We're in a little town that is near where I grew up. We are in Sedro Wooley, WA. We are here as "Pressure Ridge", a dance music duo. We're playing in the heart of militarism, Sedro Wooley American Legion. I've got to admit that my attitude is less than stellar at times here, or at least has been in the past. The truth is that we are an appropriate band for this venue, and so all I really have to do is be reasonably friendly, play the music with a minimum level of competency, and things will be alright.
We listened to a book on our way here. It was an interesting book. It is the biography of John Lennon. I think it was somewhat inspirational. He was an interesting cat, and not so different from a middle class American. He decided what he wanted to do with his life early on, which I think helped a lot, and he was intelligent, which accelerated his success. It is clear that he was the bandleader for the Beatles, but we didn't finish listening to the book, so I will know more later.
I feel challenged by this trip, as it is a long automobile journey. It was at least two hours to get here, maybe closer to three. That is because there is a bottleneck between Seattle, and Mt. Vernon, although we didn't get slowed down much this trip. These days, when we make a trip like this, I can't help but wonder how much longer we're going to be capable of doing this. We are in a motel until noon today, but after we check out we will have no real option of getting anymore sleep, and we work until 11:30 pm, and at that time make the two hour drive back to Tacoma. We won't be ready to leave until after midnight, and I guess that means we'll be back in Tacoma around 2 am.
We have been working on an old house that we bought. I've been getting up between 5:30, and 6 am most days, which means my circadian rhthyms are out of psynch with this schedule we are pursuing here. The last couple of days I've tried to get back on this schedule, and I'm hoping for the best. I was yawning during the last set last night, but we stayed up for at least an hour more at the motel room watching TV when we got back here.
They have a continental breakfast here, so we're going to go and do that right now. It's a nice motel (for a change), and the price is only $14 more than the crappy one down the road (I say this because we've stayed there). After we get something to eat, we'll hang out here for awhile, and relax. Later we'll go out and explore the Skagit Valley, maybe even go visit a friend. For now I'm gonna get along little dogie get along. This environment may be a challenge to my consciousness. Life might be a challenge to that at this point.

We had our continental breakfast. It was pretty good, apart from the cold hard boiled eggs being a little old and rubbery. There was plenty of sugar, and in America, isn't that what really counts? I had a bagel with butter, and honey, and they had cut the muffins in two. One of the muffins was pure sugar, and the other one had large chocolate chips in it. They had done something smart too. They had watered down the apple juice with sparkling water. It was good, and probably went further than just water would have.

While we were in the lobby having breakfast, the maids began to arrive. The first one was approaching middle age, and latin. I'm not sure she spoke any significant English, but got along great with the other staff who treated her like she was less than them, but in a subtle way. It seemed like they were all great friends, but when she tried to tell the clerk in the office how to say "six" in Spanish the clerk pretended to try to pronounce the word, and self consciously told the Latin woman that she was trying (laughing while she said it). It was a subtle dimunition for sure, but there nonetheless. We didn't pay a lot of attention to this.

We may, or may not be asked to come back here. It all depends upon whether anyone shows up tonight to dance. Last night they followed the band that is regularly on this job to their other gig, and left us hanging. It is an old crowd, and they don't want any change. They apparently will do anything to resist change. It is a strange thing, this resistance to change. The world around them is changing, like it or not. It has been changing. These folks are in their 70s, and 80s. They have seen the world change. They chose to stay in their little town, and perhaps some of them moved here for one reason or another. These little towns do try to resist the winds of time, but in this country, that is impossible. My own hometown has changed so much that it pains me to visit it.

When I was a boy I spent most of my time in the fields, and forests with my dog. As I write this a sense of joy comes over me just remembering the wind in my hair, and the cool pacific rain on my face. We would run through the fields, in a hurry to get to the slough, or the river, or Pioneer Pond, or the creek, or just to linger in the forest listening for the sounds of other creatures, and smelling the plants that grew there.

About ten years ago Kristi and I were coming back from a road trip to the Okanogan area and I decided to take a look at my old hometown, Arlington. We drove to the top of the hill where my parents had built a house so many years ago. The swimming pool at the house was gone, although the house appeared much the same as it was. The striking change there was that when you looked over the hill, the trees that my father and I had planted were now thirty or forty feet high, and obscuring the view of the valley. After looking at that, we drove to what was Murphy's Farm where we would go in the throbbing heart of winter and sled on a hill in one of his fields. He had shot one of our dogs for chasing his cows years ago. Now there were condominiums there, and the creek that ran through the farm was just a muddy trickle. There was certainly no salmon run, and the forest had been cut. I was almost in tears as I looked at this scene. I'm sure it has changed once again since I made that trip.

Actually, we did make one more trip up to Arlington. The last time was with my parents. They were on their last legs, and we made the trip in our car, which was less than ideal because a previous owner had put the plastic film to make the windows a sunscreen on them somewhat badly so that the people sitting in the back seat didn't get a very good view of what was going by. Nonetheless we visited the old house, and now the trees that had stood so proudly in the valley had been cut. The land had been sold again, and the landscape changed. I can imagine that once again it looks different if I took the time to visit. My mother enjoyed that drive that day. If I recall correctly, my sister Veta was with us as well.

If I'm honest, I can tell you that Kristi and I played in Arlington at the American Legion Club there. I tend not to be very sociable when we play these kinds of clubs, as I'm afraid that someone will ask the wrong question, and I'll give them an honest answer. These are bastions of jingoism, and militarism. They don't ask questions, and they send their young men off to be killed and maimed at the drop of a hat, pretending that waving a flag, or getting drunk at the American Legion Club will suffice to atone for the meaningless sacrifices. I suppose that in the end, it tells you just how much of a whore I am. It pays the bills. It also keeps us musically in shape.

This internet connection kind of ebbs and flows here. One moment it will be at optimum, and the next it will be barely keeping us connected. I guess it's like a shower at a motel, although I think that for the most part those kinds of problems with water have been solved. I'm going to wrap things up here. I'm looking forward to getting out in the community here today. I will try to be more open and connective with the people here. As much as I get frustrated with folks, I feel that at some level they could be capable of understanding their world, and would if they could see the use of it. One thing about traveling the world is that you get to know that the species is pretty much the same over the entire breadth, and width of this earth. One should be forgiving of one's fellow humans, although we should not stop trying to find understanding, and spread that around when we do find it. And so this is the hypocrisy of my situation. I am just like the corporations who do what they do to make a buck. Even as the CEO may see the harm to the earth in his actions in his position, he bulls ahead with the purpose of making money. I guess the fact that I'm not able to honestly connect with these kinds of audiences is the same thing in a way. I suppose it's why I refer to Pressure Ridge as the janitorial service of musical performance. It's just a job ma'am. I was just doing my job. I've always said that this kind of performance from us would not go on forever, and it won't. For now it is necessary though.
Steve Nebel
Saturday, October 16th, 2010