There are far too many to sit here and list, I love music in all it's forms...
But there is one on my mind right now, and like anything I write, it has a story.
Mamas and the Papas - Twelve Thirty... This one means a lot because of up north... I had gone to my property for the first time in the Jeep, when I was in a low point, hated everyone and everything, had no desire to speak to anyone, didn't want to be around or see anybody, and just sat in the woods and wrote for a long time about what was on my mind, every thought that came to me till there was nothing left to write... About the 4th day or so, I had to go into town for ice... It was a gently raining morning, I mudbogged down the trail, it's about a mile to the main road, and then a good 8 miles to town. My hair was unwashed, I was all scruffy, this is before I grew the beard, while I put on deodorant, I smelled like woods, swamp, and campfire... Not exactly presentable by any means. And I was walking through Ken's Village Market, in Indian River, Michigan, passing the dairy aisle, and someone who worked there looked up, and said "Good morning..." I didn't know what to think... Writing had brought me to a sense of peace with myself in the woods, that one simple greeting upon returning to civilization restored my peace with other people. Good morning? From a total stranger, for no reason, and here I am looking like some sort of hobo-lumberjack?
And it wasn't just then! As I got more around up north, and began to be more social, talking again to people, it was everywhere up there... Boyne City, strangers on the street stop to say hello... Harbour Springs, people on the beach wave and ask how you're doing. When I talk about "up north", that's one of the reasons I love it so.
The lyric from that song that brings that magic feeling all back...
"At first, so strange to feel friendly...
To say "Good Morning", and really mean it...
To feel these changes happening in me
But not to notice till I feel it..."
