Participating with John Prine

Countless tributes of John Prine have been written. It sure doesn’t seem fair that this corona virus thing took him. No words can truly express our sympathies to his wife and family.

When I graduated from college in 1971, I was asked to give the commencement speech as a student. I must have heard John Prine’s “Spanish Pipedream” and it must have stuck in my brain since I remember that I used some lines about going out into the world sans TV and raising peaches.

Prine really wasn’t fully in my life again until Don Breen, a guy I used to work with, gave me a couple of boot-legged albums, oh, I’d say 20 years ago. I had obviously heard of Prine, probably through the MIdnight Special radio show in Chicago. I did hear more Steve Goodman and Fred Holstein, but Prine was leaving town about the same time I moved to finish school in Wisconsin. I suppose that if he, and I, had stuck in Chicago longer, I would have heard of him more, but would have the rest of the world?

That first full, more than fleeting, encounter with him, though, left an indelible mark on me. I will be forever grateful to Don. In that collection the quirky “Dear Abby” made me laugh out loud. “Hello in There” left me crying. To hear most Prine fans talk, he had that effect on almost everyone.

I can’t say I have a favorite John Prine song. There are so many. It is interesting that so many other performers readily pick songs to cover in the tributes abounding since his death. Susan and I cover four of his songs when we do gigs as Wattle & Daub.

Those are:
Angel of Montgomery
Paradise
That’s the Way the World Goes Around
In Spite of Ourselves

We like to say in our gigs that Prine wrote that last one just for us. We’re kind of silly that way. Prine used to tell a story that he wrote the song to run during the closing credits of a Billy Bob Thornton film that was never released. He also told the story of a lady who asked him to sing the “Happy Enchilada” song. “You know,” she told him. “It’s a happy enchilada and you think you’re gonna drown.” I’ve heard Prine tell that story a number of times in shows.

Susan and I were lucky enough to see him as the closer at the Newport Folk Festival in 2017. 
You can hear it here.

The festival has a nice montage of that concert in this video:

I’m not sure why, but Prine’s death has affected me as much as Pete Seeger’s did in 2014. It was the year after my first wife passed away. I had picked up the guitar again, one that had sat idle during her long illness. I started playing the old songs I used to know and some new ones. I liked when people sang along, the way Pete made them do.

Pete always wanted people to sing. He once said, “There is something about participating; it is almost my religion. If the world is still here in 100 years, people will know the importance of participating, not just being spectators.”

Pete had lots of causes and demanded that people at least pay attention. He taught us the words, and taught us that we are stronger when we sing together. And, good teacher that he was, he provided a moral guide post for us all.

Prine’s songs had people singing along, too. Probably because they knew all the words already. He didn’t have to teach us the words. We learned them by ourselves. We laughed, we cried, they became a part of us.

We got to participate when we heard these guys, probably more than we even realized. Pete was our conscience. John Prine was our soul.

Ramblings Again

Someday I might come back to these and get more from it. I think I got the Prine song from the beginnings here, though

March 28

I spent time reading today, not as much as I wanted or should, but I did read.hn

LIstening to live music from Susan Werner on a Sunday during the COVID-19 is much more relaxing than watching a Trump rally in the guise of a press conference.

March 30

John Prine is sick. Again. This time it’s this stupid COVID-19 virus. I want to say he’s a tough old codger and will beat this too just like the cancer. But this thing is a motherfucker. People who have got it say its kicking their ass.

God, if you’re listening, the world needs more guys like Prine. We need him more than you do.

+++

Train only has one engineer

March 31

The train only has one engineer, the one who drives it, runs the motor, makes sure it gets there on time. The conductor collects tickets and greets the passengers and says, “All Aboard!”
But what if no one is on the train, no passengers, no riders off to work in the city, suburbanites heading to the city for a play or show or a trip to a museum or other city attraction?

That seems to be the standard now with Metra and Amtrak in the Chicago area. I walk daily to the Metra station in my northern Illinois town. I don’t know if we’re even considered a suburb. Sometimes the train arrives when I walk, sometimes not.

When this coronavirus thing started, when the governor closed things and told us to stay the fuck home, ridership on Metra went down. Last week I counted 26 cars in a lot that has 681 parking spots. There’s normally more than that on the weekend. Today, an otherwise normal Wednesday workday, only 12 cars were parked.

A lone brave ticketmaster sits behind his glass, alone in his office. I wave to him every day, sometimes chatting briefly. He seems a pleasant fellow. He smiles broadly when he waves back. I should find out his name. He told me that Metra ridership is down 98 percent.

I suspect that people who live in the bedroom towns around New York City are in a simliar situation. That ridership that comes into Grand Central from Connecticut is down, too.

Bedroom towns are the towns where people live and sleep when they work in New York City. Towns like Stamford, where my older brother once lived. I first heard the term when we had a gig in Putnam, CT.

Putnam is on the east side of the state on the banks of the Quinnebaug River. The residents say that they are east of the river, but they mean the Connecticut River which runs through the middle of the state. Sometimes they think the state government forgets about everybody on the east side. The ladies in a yarn shop we visited used the term and explained it, somewhat rather derisively. It kind of reminds me of the division in Illinois between upstate and downstate.

I hate the long goodbye
So it’s just so long and fare the well

April 1

Today Susan and I were married for the second time. We like to say the first time was because we had to and the second time was the church thing. So it’s our 2nd third anniversary.

April 5

Weirdly enough, today is Palm Sunday, traditoonally considered the day Jesus entered Jerusalem to great fanfare and welcome. A week later, they killed him.

Susan got pissed at Facebook and deactivated her account. I should probably take a break from it as well, but somebody has to stay on it so that we can update the band page if necessary.

Can’t say as I blame her. I should start staying away from it more myself. And write more here.

April 6

I wrote this to Corky Siegel today:



I like how you refer to your fans as "cousins." Indeed we are all, as they say, six degrees of separation. I can legitimately say I know most people in music through six degrees or less, and you are part of that chain. For example, I know you, and through you I know Sam Lay and through that, I know Bob Dylan. I can also connect to Barack Obama, but that's a little more convoluted.

I trust you and Holly are maintaining proper standards of health and safety, as we all must. Susan and I are staying put here in Grayslake. She goes foraging for food once a week, but we will probably just start doing that online and just go pick it up. We go for a walk. I walk to the Metra station and say hello to John, the guy who sells tickets for the train. He sits alone behind his glass window. I think I am his only human contact these days. The station here has 681 parking spots. Today there were only five cars in the whole lot. There's normally more than that on a weekend. There's gotta be a song in there somewhere. I'm waving my song catcher around a lot these days, but so far, just a couple of snippets of lines.

In this email, you mentioned all the merchandise on your site. Unfortunately, I can't buy any more since it would just be duplication of everything I have.
That's why I hope we can get past this all soon. Susan and I have had to cancel a few gigs, and a few things we've wanted to see have been cancelled, too. I miss making music in front of an audience, even if it's just four people in a coffeehouse. I also miss hearing music live, whether it's in a small coffeehouse or at a festival with thousands.

I do enjoy your morning live Facebook posts. It's good to see you and hear your music. Hope there's more in the future beyond this.

April 7

Susan went for a walk. A bird pooped on her head. She felt tired the last of her walk. Took a shower and her temperature. Her temperature was 100.5. She went to take a test for COVID-19. Those results will take a couple of days. She came home. Temperature was 98.9. She still felt really fatigued. She’s sleeping now. I’m downstairs avoiding her. Will sleep in separate beds for a while I guess.

My older brother is an idiot. I don’t think he recognizes the severity of this thing. I don’t think he’s alone there.

April 8

Susan in negative for covid. That great news is tempered by the loss of John Prine to the same thing. For 50 years he provided songs of love and joy and humor to America. He was one of the best.

April 9

I remember that empty chair,
When you lay here by yourself
So I pull it up to sit nearby
And stay here for a while
Just wanting you to know
I am here and
You are not alone

You loved me all these years
I hope I have done the same
I’ll sit here drinking Handsome Johnnies
Hoping you still know my name
I’ll stay here till they kick me out
Just hoping that you know
I am here and
You are not alone.

I hate these long goodbyes,
So I’ll just say hello in there
so long and fare thee well

April 10
Thousands of people, hundreds of thousands are out of work. Millions have filed for unemployment. Yet Wall Street thrives.

April 11

It’s Holy Saturday, blessing of the food day.

I don’t know who’s worse. The Bernie “I’ll never vote for Biden” crybabies or the libertarian assholes who claim they have a right go out and infect people cuz, you know, people gotta be free.