Giving Thanks

We had a great Thanksgiving weekend. Everyone was home. Here are some highlights.

After dropping Kitty with friends, Hannah & I had a little dinner at the Mill Street the night she rolled into town. She dreams of beer, but gets coffee instead.

We gathered at Mike & Rita's around 2pm. The weather was surreal... mid-fifties and sunny. A lovely day. Here are the Jensen gurlz all in a row, no relation, but family, nonetheless. These girls have all grown up together. Evelyn, the youngest at 15, is mere months from getting her driver's license. From left to right, Kitty, Fuzzy, Lillian, Evelyn and Hannah. Fuzzy flew in from NYC where Hannah hopes to be by 2008.

Paparazzi caught rock star Mike Lewis on the street prior to dinner being served. It must have been an international call.


Here we are devouring the meal; succulent (truly) rolled & stuffed turkey breasts, a fabulous salad, carmelized onion risotto, wild rice w/dried cranberries, stuffing, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, lots of kick ass gravy, Mary's Irish potato buns and the always adored sliced canned cranberry mash. Brent looks as if he is holding high mass over his plate. Then, we hung in the yard for many hours, the firepit continually restoked while cigars, cigarettes, french vanilla cognac, wine, coffee and conversation was shared. We were the last to leave, around 11PM.



The following day, we celebrated with the Sigmeth/Hoffman clan at Helen & Gary's. It was the traditional Thanksgiving meal of turkey, sage dressing, sweet potatoes w/ marshmallow topping, mashers, fruit salad and the always anticipated green bean casserole. Leftovers were distributed... did I hear an AMEN!? Here's a rare family photo. And, the post feast crashers....
Even Maria got in on Gerber's version of sweet potatoes. Next year, it's all about the marshmallow topping for her.



There was an afterparty at our place... we got a fire going, nephew Chris stopped by as well as some of Hannah's friends. We listened to music, talked about stuff, enjoyed some coffee drinks Hannah created and did our best to digest our food. I do remember, however, sneaking to the refrigerator at some point late in the evening and reheating the leftover green bean casserole. You bet.

Mad Poets Found in LaCrosse, WI

I'm sitting here in the homestead half way through a bottle of dry French rose listening to American Roots on NPR out of New Orleans. I know, it sounds dumb, but they are playing Hank Williams, George Jones, Tammy Wynette and even Elvis Costello crooning out the country shit. Does it rock? Like, duh. I'm supposed to show up at Buggy & Vickie's tonight where the smoker is huffing, laden with slabs of venison from seven (count'em) young does he laid to rest, which will now prance their way to our eventual bellies, for which we are already eternally grateful -- all honor and thanks. But before I head over there, I have a story to tell.

Juliet showed in my driveway later than planned for our departure further south to LaCrosse, Wisconsin on Thursday November 16th, 2006. (Now, George Jones is being interviewed.... he's waxing sentimental about a show he was trying to get to which involved getting thrown in jail en route -- his raspy old man voice is killing me.) We were slated to appear as Poet & Rock Star at The Pump House Center for the Creative Arts that evening. A room for us at the motel off I90 was waiting and Juliet had called ahead for early check-in. After one turnaround, we landed at what will now be forever known as the Moose Ass Motel. This place is pretty much beyond description, but, imagine a suburban housewife still devoted to a husband who's done well in the insurance or car business. She doesn't work and has time on her hands, so she decides that the upcoming redeco project on the home front will involve hunting, which he loves. We're talking carpet to walls to tabletop to ceiling detail in horrifying overkill: pinecones and pine bough carpeting, duck decoys nailed to the wall replete w/ duck whistles dangling 'round their necks, bear, fish and elk lamps, grizzly bear art and, in the yard, chainsaw sculptures. You get the picture, but I'll help. (George Jones is talking about having a bird haircut, still doing 70 shows a year and god knows he's old as dirt.)(George was given a nickname -- The Possum -- after which he did something about his hair....)This one is my personal favorite... the bleak if fancifully milling area outside yet another conference room. I'm sweating in those flannel curtains.

Soon, we left our hunting lodge nightmare (albeit comfy -- good towels, soft beds, hi-rent bathroom sundries) and arrived at The Pump House in town. The theatre was unexpectedly warm and inviting; 140 tiered seating capacity, workable sound system, moody lighting. Nice. There we met Bill Stobb and David Krump, our hosts... young men, in deference to the old hippies with a small town vision I'd imagined meeting us at the door. We got set up, sound checked and headed to Piggy's for pre-game warm-ups. It was there I became slowly aware of who I was in company with. Bill has a PhD at 35 and is a professor at Vitero College. He is a poet, slated to be published by Penguin having already been published in serial weighty writing magazines prior. David has just won the most prestigious literary prize for poets under 30 -- the Ruth Lilly Fellowship -- which affords him a $15,000 prize and seven trips to Oxford over the next year. Wha---? Dudes just want to talk about something else, humble beasts that they are, even though Juliet presses a bit, but the conversation sways easily into poets. I listen attentively. After a couple of drinks, we head back to the theatre. Here's where I admit this is my first solo show, after 20 years of "singing professionally". I got through it. Juliet was brilliant as usual, and the open mic which followed was very, very entertaining -- some good stuff. Check Mental Contagion for December for more details.

Then, the party began. (Nina Simone is singing now... not country, but somehow she fits in here.) We bounced back to Piggy's for food & cocktails after the show. The table grew and grew.... Who knew such luciousness lay in the downtown strip of LaCrosse. After Piggy's, we wended our way to the Bodega. Upon entering, I was lofted by an ear-plugged, tattooed, teddy bear bouncer into a very satistying hug. Why? Probably because David was my escort, but I have to say, it did more than the hot tub might have back at the hotel. A college jazz band was set up at the rear of the room and before I knew it, first Bill and then David swept me out onto a dance floor created in our party spirit. Ahhh... I love being whirled and dipped. The guitar player had strains of Jerry Garcia in his offering, the drummer was talented and the sax playing duo up front were doing their best.

The following hours were filled with conversation, one person after another, about music, about poetry, about life and death and the importance or impedence of whiskey. Beautiful, shy human beings each on their own personal exportive journey. But I have to say, these poets know how to party! Bill had to go home first; he's got a family but he had partied well, which says to me he has a good woman at home giving him love for who he is. (Taj Mahal is wailing now .... ) There is no doubt Bill offers the same margins for her. He is a very BIG man, in every sense of the word. Then, we were in David's hands, who appeared to know what to do with us next...

We left the Bodega but not before I was mauled (again!) by the beloved bouncer who obviously had some tatts to shout out on camera.... (Jackie Wilson is giving it up.... bring it!)
Then, it was on to another awesome bar where we rocked a purple pool table. Here is Dave dealing with a steaming heap of pool balls. Pressure..... Melissa and I lost on the 8 ball, but we held our own. She's a painter. I didn't get to talk to her enough.

Then... it was 2 AM.... and downtown was closing. Juliet looked spent... so we turned down the after-party. The streets were swarming with police cars. Dave reiterated the cheap cab ride back to our motel, but I wasn't impaired, I assured him. Well, OK.... slightly impaired, but not beyond driving. Our goodbyes were bittersweet....
... we had fallen in love with these young lads, their pals, their city. Who knew so much life teemed down river? It's simply more evidence that wherever you go, your windows and doors must remain open. After spending three weeks traveling across the country, this visit to LaCrosse was further proof that wherever you go, you will find your people... whether you are in search of tired old barflies, excitable young artists, blue collars, white collars, or up and coming poets. They are, we are, all of us, beacons across the enduring landscape, across the waters and mountains and plains, across the boundaries which pretend to divide us. We have everything to give each other.

Swing Down Chariot is being proffered by some hillbilly crooners on the airwaves now. I'm off to Buggy's where the venison smoke is thick and the bar is stocked. And... what is it about rivers and the congregations that flock to their shores?

What We've Been Doing Since We Got Home

So, Steph sez, she sez.... "Why no action on the blog?.... I miss it." Well... Steph gets her wish and I offer typically lengthy explanation. It starts with her, actually.... and her friend Lee.... who graced our table with their splendid, entertaining selves. Another great night of food, wine and conversation. Lee and Steph met at Cornell in NYC. Steph is getting closer to being a doctor and Lee, closer to being a novelist. I mean... c'mon... this is good, digestive brain activity over dinner, which is what dinner is about, after all.

After checking in with Kitty at the U of M for an evening, it was off to Madison to visit Hannah, who I'd not seen in months. It sorta went like this...... girl on sofa...
...girl at coffee shop...
...a bit of bird feeding...
...girl at work...
...sunset drive to the grocery store...
...girl loading fridge...
...girl and mommy swilling while cooking (mandatory action)...and much conversation had late into the night in candle light followed by a movie in bed (first night, Woody Allen -- second night, Big Fish) and basically just happy to be lounging in each other's company. There appears to be a hat theme going on here.

On the lovely ride home, a stop in LaCrosse to gaze at the lock and dam on this lovely, chilly day and this git'er'done tugboat....

Meanwhile, back at home, Brent was busy with the young lads of White Light Riot in the illustrious Pachyderm Studio, producing their soon-to-be-award-winning follow-up recording. Here he is, apparently hipping them to guitar suave in his award winning suit (huh?)... while they take notes on their laptops. What's going on here is a longer story, but if we can figure out how to get movies on this blog, you'll understand. Waaaaait for it. Just for the record, Brent has been working every single day since October 25th. But he is having a really great time with this awesome band and on this project, which sounds like a promising future in rock and roll. He's even getting paid a living wage!

Then, there was some more work for me and some more entertaining, this time with our friends Mark & Susan......Romeo is clearly coveting the dessert pig offerings.

Following that, more work and then, The Old Crow Medicine Show at First Avenue with Kitty after pre-game warm-ups at Nye's Polonaise Room. What a great band! Catch them if they come your way... and their Tshirts rock. During the show, she said, "I wanna come home tonight... I wanna see Brent." And so, part two of our evening began. En route down Hwy 52, just to spice things up further, we called Mike and ordered him to get his ass down to the farm, swinging by the studio for some meet n' greet the band and... some party. I didn't think Mike would show up, but, he surprised us all and after more studio party, we (barely) made it up the driveway. All members in the White Light Riot crew gladly pushed from the rear on all three cars after what had suddenly become a hellacious blizzard descending on the river valley. Mike was in front so he led the way home, which was almost unnavigable, but hey... we're Minnesotans and we know how to do this stuff ...and after actually all making it up our own driveway, settled cozily into part three of our growing-ever-longer and more luxurious evening... ...involving dining room-tabled laptops, guitars, thawing out a red chicken curry and even more party until finally folding comfortably into our respective beds past 4am.

When I woke up next morning, I couldn't believe how horrible I was feeling. I was sure I'd not overdone it, even though we were up late, since that's a natural occurrance 'round heah and we're all atuned to the rhythm of it. After Kitty and Mike left, I took to my bed and remained there for the weekend with only the flu as bad company. It sucked, as flu has a tendency to do but that's its nature. By Sunday, I was barely back on my wobbly feet but anxious to do something. In between naps, I got laundry rotating, kitchen cleaned and floor mopped, bedroom tidied and a Tex-Mex stew bubbling on the stove by 7pm. Mike had returned to Pachyderm to record some saxophone tracks for the WLR lads and when he was done, well... you know... he stopped by for some food and some company. Brent returned home hours later and the conversation deepened into the night. Before Mike left this morning, we did the forest trail with the dogs...... and scarfed down fried egg sandwiches. Somewhere in there, Brent came blearily downstairs for coffee, stumbled back up to the shower and left for work. Mike left shortly thereafter. I turned on the radio, dragged the pile of bills onto the table and let the dogs out again to sit in what remains of the snow from that crazy blizzard. Rocky enjoys how it cools his arthritic hips.

We're back to life as usual in the Cannon River Valley... work when we can get it, late nights as often as we can sustain it, love around the table and food within reach. Steph? I hope this helped quench your S&N blog thirst. It's 5:00 AM and now that Jack has returned home from his Coyote Meeting on the prairie and this post is finished, I think I better give it up and go to bed. Or... maybe I should wait just a little while longer to watch the sunrise. Mmmm.... life is good.

(p.s. just for the record, any of these fotos can be enlarged simply by clicking on them... happy viewing!)