Come ON March....and Rod Picott....
It's 12 below right now but the boys seem remarkably cheerful about going to school today despite that. Some sort of ISAT preparation which gets them out of various classes they dislike, and weirdly seems to create a bit of a holiday air. I am feeling a little more cheerful. Sometimes you just have to wallow a bit...and sometimes (despite the fact that it might not seem so here) I try too hard to just move on as though everything is just fine. And sometimes you know....it just isn't. I finally just had to say to Ernie, "A. Do NOT keep symptoms from me i.e. tingly toes/neuropathy issues" and B. "I'm sorry I have been awful I'm just freaking terrified." I cried, he cried, we both cried and then somehow we ended up sniffing and giggling. I love him so.
It's been five years since the damn thing metastisized into his bones and despite the fact that we trot off to the Cancer Center every month, it's easy to forget about it and start imagining the rest of our lives without this evil intruding. So when it raises its head, particularly at a time of year that can be hard for me, well then all bets for coping gracefully are off.
However, as I said, today is a bit better. AND today is the official release date for my beloved Rod Picott's new album Hang Your Hopes on a Crooked Nail. God knows the music is what gets us through, and Rod's music is very important to us. I am so thankful for it. March 1 can't come soon enough for me. February will be fucking OVERand Rod Picott will be singing in my living room. I love that boy.
Here is a song Rod wrote about how he will miss his father when he's gone. Yeah, you just KNOW it gets me, don't you?
This is my version of a William Carlos Williams poem. I used more words the he did but mine is pretty good too. It’s an unusual perspective to write from. I’ve never discussed this before but this is the second time I wrote by putting myself into the future. Not the distant future, but the not too distant future. The other time is when I wrote “Haunted Man” for the first album. In that case I could see where my relationship was headed and asked myself, “what are you gonna feel like?” That’s how I wrote Haunted Man. This time I was thinking about my folks and about my father specifically. He’s not an old man. He’s in his mid 70s. He has Keith Richards genes. They live forever on Picott road. Tar, alcohol and farming accidents be damned, they just keep grumbling along singing the wrong words to whatever song they’re singing. He worked very hard though and I can see it in his eyes. Welding is not interchangeable with accountancy. Both are difficult I’m sure but the scars from addition and subtraction don’t whittle your arms like pine. I’m guessing anyway. So this is a simple song about the guy I had a difficult time with as a young man and have grown close to over many years and how and why I will one day miss him very much. I thought I’d say it now instead of waiting. He never says anything about the records anyway. He just quotes them to me from time to time on his way out the door to his lawn tractor. My brother and I bought it for him brand god damn new. And when it breaks down we’re going to buy him another one.
You can get the cd or download at his site...or itunes, etc. You can go listen to it at Spotify but make sure you come buy it in person at the house concert then. You'll want it and damn, Spotify pays shit to artists.