Her Old Chevy Van
2 weeks ago I saw a post on Instagram that my friend was playing at the Station Inn here in Nashville TN. I put it in my calendar on my phone because I really wanted to go and knew if I didn’t, I would forget about it or overbook myself in some kinda way.
Yesterday I said to JQ, “Hey there’s that show at Station Inn tomorrow.”
He said, “Oh shit, I mighta forgotten.”
“This is your reminder.”
Driving home in rush hour traffic that seems 3x’s as bad as it was 3 weeks ago, I was feeling fatigued and thinking, maybe we won’t go, or maybe I won’t go because I’m feeling like staying home. I have learned to lapse in this luxury. But the baseball game was already on. The Guardians were playing a day game in San Diego and I picked it up in the 5th inning walking out of work. Even in my earbuds the AM signal was hazy as I moved through and exited the parking garage, almost like I had a small transistor radio from the 70’s in my car.
I looked down over to the passenger’s seat, and lying there was the contents of the innards of my car. Earlier, someone must have rummaged through it and lo and behold, there was my old transistor radio!!
Just kidding! It was actually my first IPod (RIP Ipods)
Poor thieves weren’t interested. I wondered what was on that little, scuffed up, early generation 5GB beauty. My faded memory from that snapshot in time thinks it's probably Neko Case, Patsy Cline, Aimee Mann, Loretta Lynn and some of my old demos. No clue if I have the wires around to get it going, but I just added it to the pile of “I’ll get to’s.”
I just read something that basically said “don’t make to-do lists, make time.” Courtesy of Nir Eyal, it comes from their book, which I need to make time to read next.
I saw it on The Timestamp :
💡 The opposite of distraction is not focus; it is traction 👉 to get traction, you have to learn how not to get distracted 👉 make time for traction 👉 planning with your calendar vs planning with a to-do list. And do not ❌ plan tasks from to-do lists: these are never right because you need to dedicate time to completing them.
Gah. Time. It’s the most valuable thing. More than an hourly wage, or yearly salary, or winning the lottery.
It always seems so obvious, yet…
Guardians are already up 6-0 and the game is going to be over before we have to leave so there’s no good reason not to go to the show tonight, and when I get home, JQ says, ‘We’re on the list.’
We are going.
Cleveland beat the Padres, a 2 game sweep. I am more delighted about my team being 10 games over .500 than a normal person might be and it’s been occupying a lot of my thinking time. But baseball is my favorite living metaphor. The more patterns I understand, the better my chances of being a baseball commentator someday! :)
Melissa is on her second song when we walk in and BAM it hits me in the face AGAIN. For like the 1000th time. MUSIC IS LIFE. QUALITY MUSIC FROM THE SOUL TRANSMITS and TRANSMUTES energy. She is powerfully center stage playing the shit out of the upright bass and singing her ass off, the “Hill-Billie Holiday” as has been coined (Jeff Burke, Chris Scruggs, others?) Melissa Carper has arrived. I’ve always been a fan but I’ve never seen her so in her zone and comfortably embodied. Her simple brown hat and patterned shirt and pants match the hues of the Station Inn background and her band is sizzling perfection. On top of her completely grooving bass playing, her voice soars and melts like butter over her fresh ass band, who are actually all playing together for the very first time. How can it be?!
I am so mesmerized in song and am moved to text a friend. A friend who I know probably cannot make it, but I want to reach out to someone that would appreciate this moment, and my instinct is to invite her to share this. Sometimes an invitation is just as good as being there.
I settle in and soak up Billy Contreras on the fiddle, someone I’ve seen playing since he was 16. He was a prodigy then but now it really shows he has studied the craft of playing fiddle from the front and back end. He takes a 12 bar solo and I’m suddenly cackling in delight. It’s marvelous to hear him playing double and triple stops so in tune and melodically. He is in the pocket. Melissa’s groove is keeping him on track in a way that tells me the music she’s playing IS his wheelhouse. I take a tangent and have a moment of remorse about how I’ve treated my violin, wondering will she forgive me for neglecting her? Why do I forget time and time again that I love to play this instrument. She is just such a bitch sometimes.
Fading back in, Melissa is singing a lament about her Old Chevy Van. I know this one, and have always liked it, but this time, it feels different. Sadder. Like she knows it’s over. The van isn’t coming back. There’s some sweet relief in the saddest version of hurtin’ I’ve ever heard, and my heart breaks a little but I'm also thankful to feel something. The absence, the lost relationship, the reluctant moving on. The thing humans have to do sometimes - let go.
JQ leans over and says, ‘I don’t think she’s getting her van back.’
i’m moving my newsletter to substack, but still plan to post the content on my website. I like the climate on substack right now, it feels less lonely. but of course, my inner critic shows up and asks ‘who are you to write your sentences among such giants? What are you even doing?!?!
Hey, inner critic, I see you, friend. Come and have some tea with me. I am here to work on sharing some thoughts and it turns out that I love writing and it makes my inner self happy to think deeply about the goings on in this world we live in.
I’m really just here to connect with YOU as we all navigate these ever changing times and marvel how we all continue to exist in space and time. It’s really something when you take a minute to pause and reflect. I spend half of my time pausing wondering why I don’t pause more.
I’m happy to be here now, and dip my toes into this magic little world again
Cheers, m
