tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-133563272024-03-13T15:08:55.870-05:00Roger McGuinn BlogOur adventures on the road!Roger McGuinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00238284241360672020noreply@blogger.comBlogger105125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13356327.post-37223079521950549162023-12-19T14:58:00.001-05:002023-12-19T18:09:07.906-05:00Roadie Report 87 by Camilla McGuinn- THE TUNNEL OF GRIEF<p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Once again it was a busy year. Roger performed in theaters across the Northeast and Midwest during the Spring and the Fall of 2023. Eric Clapton invited Roger to join him and Jakob Dylan and the Wallflowers in Los Angeles for Eric’s fund raiser ”Crossroads Guitar Festival” in September. Marty Stuart and the Fabulous Superlatives joined Roger at the Ellis Theater in Philadelphia Mississippi in October. They added beautiful music to Roger’s one man play about his life. Then it was west to Austin Texas. We finished the year with Roger giving lectures titled “How Folk Music Took Me To The Rock ‘N”Roll Hall of Fame” on the Crystal Serenity and again on the Queen Mary2.</p><p class="p2" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 28px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>We felt a period of relaxation was good idea. Christmas on the ocean was where we wanted to be but there was something that added a time of reflection for us. In our neighborhood, one family’s father/grandfather died, another neighbors mother died and friends were going to funerals of friends and we too lost several friends during the year. I began thinking of the times that I had walked through the “tunnel of grief.” There are few words that can touch that pain but I decided to write down the experience and maybe it will help someone who is in the dark place of grief.</p><p class="p2" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 28px;"><br /></p><p class="p2" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 28px;"><br /></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Jesus wept. ( The Book of John 11:35 )</p><p class="p2" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 28px;"><br /></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I often wondered why Jesus wept at the tomb of his friend Lazarus. It didn’t seem logical. He had already told Martha, Lazarus’ sister,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">25.“...I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in ME though he may die, he shall live.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">26. And whoever lives and believes in ME shall never die. Do you believe this? ( John 11:25-26)</p><p class="p2" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 28px;"><br /></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Jesus had already raised the dead and healed the sick. He knew he was going to bring Lazarus back to the living. So why did HE weep.</p><p class="p2" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 28px;"><br /></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span> </span>Jesus came with a purpose. HE came to save the fallen humanity and to take humanity out of the hands of the fallen angel - satan. In order to accomplish this purpose he became the son of man. He became human.</p><p class="p2" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 28px;"><br /></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Being human meant he experienced human conditions. Hunger, thirst, abandonment, temptation, weariness, persecutions and compassion. HE saw the pain and the loneliness of losing a loved one and HE wept.</p><p class="p2" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 28px;"><br /></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The tunnel of grief is a tunnel we will all walk through until the second coming of the Messiah. Most of the time it is a long dark tunnel with many stops and obstacles along the way to the light at the end.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></p><p class="p2" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 28px;"><br /></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>It is a tunnel that for me has always had different attributes. No grief is ever the same. The overwhelming shock, sometimes relief and at all times the pain of loss can rarely be described to the heart suffering the pain.</p><p class="p2" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 28px;"><br /></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I thought the death of my mother would be the same pain as the death of my father. I was wrong. The grief tunnel was vastly different each time. My voice reached for a higher scream when daddy was gone and strange sounds exhaled from the depths of my being when mommy died. Roger and I both were taken by surprise each time the sounds suddenly breathed from my gut. Even with Roger at my side, I was alone walking through the tunnel of grief.</p><p class="p2" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 28px;"><br /></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>There were times when I could boldly take steps and there were times when I was a heap of agony on the rocky floor of the tunnel. I never knew what trigger would cause the pain of grief to well up in my being.</p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">There were times I felt there was no hope at seeing the light again. Then time passed. The guttural groans slowly disappeared and there was a glimmer of light at the end of the grief tunnel. As I emerged from the darkness, I began having memories, sweet memories. I began being thankful for the days of my youth with parents who loved me but more thankful to Jesus who even though I couldn’t feel it at the time, HE was always with me and HE too was weeping.</p><p class="p2" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 28px;"><br /></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Years ago, Roger was given a death sentence by the doctor and a test. The test revealed a very high PSA. His father had died of prostate cancer so we believed the test. That night I struggled in the dark thinking of my life without him. The next morning I told Roger that when he went to be with our Lord in heaven, I would sit in a rocking chair in the dark and wait until I could join him. Roger laughed, “No Camilla. You will do that for about two weeks then Jesus is going to tell you to get up and get going. You have a purpose!”</p><p class="p2" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 28px;"><br /></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Only our hearts know the pain of our sorrow, but Jesus knows your heart and as HIS arms are around you, HE is weeping with you. HE is there to help you take the next step. HE is not in a rush. HE wants to let you know that you will be with your loved ones again. In the meantime, they are living in GOD’S world of love, in a mansion built just for them. I had a dream of heaven and it is the most amazing love palace.</p><p class="p2" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 28px;"><br /></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Take your time in the “tunnel of grief,” but don’t decide to park there. Let every step, small or big, take you to HIS light and to your sweet memories.</p><p class="p2" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 28px;"><br /></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>You and the world are daily in our prayers.</p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">This letter was originally meant for our neighbors and friends who are going through the tunnel of grief. When Roger read it, I asked him what should I do with it.... He said, "Blog it. It might help someone."</p>Roger McGuinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00238284241360672020noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13356327.post-21560091546056581272023-08-06T11:48:00.000-05:002023-08-06T11:48:47.633-05:00Roadie Report 87 by Camilla McGuinn- The History and The Future<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7qYcY9FQNSx4cU6yfqpFuETyr9ef3xT9hA39qi7xQ4vXrbJLOFr5DxYDDWOnOnFK_m8xlEI4pTdLax8KWEYrquq9aEdohhhMegLu47h8U3mfIWSlKwkJeMtQPB2oy0iE0HpKfRPgLGuiJ5ZMQ5O3yuFpKw2TB5puY_pb2dp9-s4D-q-_nnJ_1/s892/Scan_20230806%20(4).jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="749" data-original-width="892" height="269" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7qYcY9FQNSx4cU6yfqpFuETyr9ef3xT9hA39qi7xQ4vXrbJLOFr5DxYDDWOnOnFK_m8xlEI4pTdLax8KWEYrquq9aEdohhhMegLu47h8U3mfIWSlKwkJeMtQPB2oy0iE0HpKfRPgLGuiJ5ZMQ5O3yuFpKw2TB5puY_pb2dp9-s4D-q-_nnJ_1/s320/Scan_20230806%20(4).jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Easter Sunday 1978</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 20pt;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 20pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 20pt; mso-tab-count: 1; text-align: left;"> </span><span style="font-size: 20pt; text-align: left;">In January 1978, I met Roger in an acting class. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 20pt; text-align: left;">Since</span><span style="font-size: 20pt; text-align: left;"> we began the acting class the same night, the coach put us together to do a scene.
I wasn’t impressed with this man, his long hair and his clothes loosely hanging
on his thin stature. Two name brand commercials were in my resume and I didn’t
want to work with an amateur. I asked him if he had ever worked professionally,
meaning in acting. He quietly replied, “I was in Bob Dylan’s movie “Renaldo and
Clara.” I inwardly groaned, “Oh no...he is a musician.” I didn’t hang out with
or date musicians. The ones I already knew were swaggering flakes. I didn’t
know who Roger McGuinn was or his musical accomplishments.</span></div>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-size: 20pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was a method
acting class and our scene required the man to convince the woman of something
she didn’t want. Before we could advance to the script we had to do a method
acting procedure of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a sensory exercise
in front of the class with the motivation of the scene. Roger and I talked for
a bit after we read our assigned scene and he realized there was something I
didn’t want to do. He had a plan for his part in the exercise.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-size: 20pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Two nights later, Roger and I took our places on two chairs in
the middle of the empty stage. It was our time to delve into the exercise. I
looked at him suspiciously when he sat down with an acoustic guitar which he
put on his lap. Children, pets and musical instruments are sure ways to steal a
scene.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-size: 20pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He asked me if I wanted to learn how to play.
Still suspicious but cocky I replied, “Sure.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-size: 20pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I will have to cut your finger nails on your left hand.
Guitar players have to hold the strings down hard on a fret board and finger
nails will damage a fret board.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-size: 20pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I inwardly smiled. He wasn’t going to get me. I wasn’t a
‘girly girl” and my nails weren’t important. I fearlessly handed him my left
hand. He whipped his Swiss Army knife out of his belt holder and cut my finger
nails to a proper guitar playing length.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-size: 20pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“He was going to have
to do better than that!” I thought as my smile was getting cockier. This didn’t
bother me one bit.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-size: 20pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>After showing me a few chords and watching me flub them on his
guitar, he suggested that he play them. Then he began playing and singing! The
students in the class were loving his performance. My cocky smile turned to a grim
look of disdain.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-size: 20pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>He finished the song and asked me what I thought of it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-size: 20pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“It’s country.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-size: 20pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Don’t you like country music?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-size: 20pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Not particularly.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-size: 20pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Well what did you think of the words?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-size: 20pt;">I paused and thought about the
song. I remembered one word, “Christian.” He had sung “I like the Christian
Life,” a song the BYRDS recorded on “Sweetheart of the Rodeo.” Then I figured
out what he was up to. He was going to try to tell me about Jesus on stage, in
front of a class!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-size: 20pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I asked him sarcastically, “ How long have you been into
Jesus?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-size: 20pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“ A few months.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-size: 20pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“ Well give it a few more and you will get over it.” I stormed
off stage. He smiled as he realized he had accomplished the first step of the
exercise of finding something that I didn’t want to do and causing a reaction.
He knew I didn’t want to recognize Jesus.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-size: 20pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Being what I considered a professional since I had quit my job
and decided to starve or make acting my life, I knew I still had to work
with<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>this hippy looking musician. I suggested
we go to the Los Angeles Art Museum to discuss the scene, since part of the
play took place in Italy. I thought some Renaissance Art was a good setting to
inspire us. By the way, the scene was from the movie”Blume In Love.”
Ironically, a friend of Roger’s was in the movie, Kris Kristofferson.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-size: 20pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>We arrived at the museum in the afternoon and immediately
turned right after entering the doors. There was an exhibit...one I didn’t
expect...it was of the “Crucifixion”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-size: 20pt;">Looking back I realized that
God had set me up!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-size: 20pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I looked at the first painting of Jesus hanging on the cross
and kept walking. At the second painting, I was shaking my head. The third
painting had me mentioning to myself, “HE didn’t look like that!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-size: 20pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>And then...a telepathic voice in my head said, “How do you
know what I looked like? You haven’t wanted to hear MY name in ten years.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-size: 20pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>At the next painting the Bible verse John 3:16 began looping
in my ears. I tried hitting the side of my head to stop it, but it was
persistent. Then I listened. “God so loved the world….”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-size: 20pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>A revelation overwhelmed me! I got it! My love life had been a
disaster and at that moment I realized that disaster was because I didn’t have
the Author of love in my life.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-size: 20pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Roger and I hardly spoke after that moment as we walked through
the museum. He knew something was happening with me. When we walked out of the
museum the sky was turning a deep pink. The sun sets early at the end of
January and I will never forget that pink color while I slowly said a prayer,,
“Lord Jesus I will go anywhere. Do anything ...just to know you better!.” That
was the moment I was born again.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-size: 20pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>By the guidance of our Lord (visions, dreams and HIS
telepathic voice) Roger and I were married two months later on April 1. During
March, Roger was on a concert tour with Gene Clark. I counted the days we had
been in each others presence and it was only 24 days before our marriage vows.
We didn’t know the person we were marrying but we did know that Jesus had a
plan.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-size: 20pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>We began our life together reading the Bible and through a
wonderful chain of events, we met some gifted Bible teachers. Every morning for
over the last 45 years we read a chapter out of the Old Testament, a chapter
out of the New Testament, a chapter of Psalms and the corresponding chapter of
the day of the month out of Proverbs. It was nice of the Lord to make the
calendar and Proverbs agree on dates and especially since I don’t have to read
Proverbs 31 every month. That Proverbs tells about an amazing woman.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-size: 20pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>We have been blessed with some wonderful teachers of God’s
Word. A Catholic priest, Father Cedric Pisegna we find<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>on YouTube, a Baptist minister on the 700
Club and a Pentecostal teacher on Jack Hayford Ministries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Baptist minister and Pentecostal teacher
are now with the Lord but their teachings are still going forward to this day.
I smile when I realize that God took a Roman Catholic boy and a Southern
Baptist girl and put them in a Pentecostal Church! Now that’s Ecumenical!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-size: 20pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It’s all about JESUS!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-size: 20pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The day I was born again, I went to the house in Beverly Hills
where a friend had invited me to stay and began a search for a Bible. I tore
through the house like a junkie looking for a fix. I couldn’t understand why
there was no Bible. Growing up in the south I saw a Bible in every room. Then I
realized that this house belonged to a dear Jewish friend. I almost gave up
when I saw one last cabinet. There I found a small green pocket New Testament
that the Gideons liked to give out. To this day, I am very thankful for the
Gideons.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-size: 20pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Over the years, my dear husband has began calling me “The
Bible lady.” I remember my desperate search for God’s Word and I want to make
sure that every friend and neighbor has access to a Bible for the time they too
will long to know the truth of God’s love.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-size: 20pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The Bible I now give away is “The New Spirit Filled Life
Bible” edited by Jack Hayford, our first Bible teacher. We were in Jack
Hayford’s congregation in Van Nuys California when he mentioned the study books
every believer needed to have on hand. Years later he edited all of them into
one beautiful Bible. This Bible has many wonderful study notes and maps. The
study notes enlighten the reader as to when the books (chapters of the Bible)
were written and by whom. It is filled with word definitions and clarification
notes. It was edited by Jack Hayford with the help of many scholars.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-size: 20pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>We begin everyday reading the Bible together and praying.
Sometimes it takes over an hour in the morning, but what an hour. We pray for
our families, neighbors, friends and<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>business associates. The list is long but its not our list, it is the
people Jesus brings to mind for us to pray for. We also pray for countries all
around the world because Jesus said, “My house will be a house of prayer for
all nations.”Our knowledge of geography has definitely increased.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-size: 20pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>An interesting thing about praying with someone. If there has
been a disagreement between them, their prayers stumble. I remember sinking on
the floor when I had a disagreement with Roger, which happens in a marriage,
but it is with the help of Jesus, who breathes love and forgiveness into a
relationship that has gotten out of joint.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-size: 20pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Roger and I are now in the winter of our lives. We could
easily declare that it is time to stop traveling and producing concerts.
Staying at home and enjoying the gardens, the kitchen and our neighbors sounds
relaxing but it’s much more fun to be on a mission from God. It is a sweet
mission.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-size: 20pt;">To lift up the name of Jesus
and the biblical knowledge that “God so loves the world that He gave his only
begotten son and whosoever believes in Him, shall not perish but have
everlasting life.” John 3:16.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was
the verse looping in my mind that day in the museum when my life’s path was
changed in the most wonderful way.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-size: 20pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="Standard"><span style="font-size: 20pt;">P.S. I forgot that I had
written part of this story in 2017, but my older and wiser husband reminded my
of my lack of memory but he told me to publish it anyway. Maybe someone other
than my loyal 13 readers will read it and have a revelation of how young we
are.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPgk299SFV98TkOkuOHewbwAchgEsGGtzwrnevfEs6ZpTybQ7fBkUtQMTsj090ErVhEOqd2RDxlfBBioA_4Tcg_mJv9g3ipjJyoNFouj3In_n27r7N3akE9vTnB8GKl1mQkw_HcYY6HbRmonLy0yIUw5AYALPXKqxn0M1wN1LBPzP9exOBBqwI/s2677/Scan_20230806%20(6).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2677" data-original-width="1829" height="364" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPgk299SFV98TkOkuOHewbwAchgEsGGtzwrnevfEs6ZpTybQ7fBkUtQMTsj090ErVhEOqd2RDxlfBBioA_4Tcg_mJv9g3ipjJyoNFouj3In_n27r7N3akE9vTnB8GKl1mQkw_HcYY6HbRmonLy0yIUw5AYALPXKqxn0M1wN1LBPzP9exOBBqwI/w245-h364/Scan_20230806%20(6).jpg" width="245" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2SJaSze2yIzSJcPQxnEdeGjpPPiWHbkSMgndLQFdatyySjEYLSBbRmeGvP1tG5so33jlkWCa0L1Uo2Rzo8rqJucOxhzPAt6ih7vxatzSacd3lRKlCZ61V6AQMTrsqpOrPFT27SUyf5oWFeFh9pxsW90gXqRwBQOj5CzNMf3X4lkhkYwaulQHw/s2351/Scan_20230806%20(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-size: 26.6667px; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2351" data-original-width="1828" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2SJaSze2yIzSJcPQxnEdeGjpPPiWHbkSMgndLQFdatyySjEYLSBbRmeGvP1tG5so33jlkWCa0L1Uo2Rzo8rqJucOxhzPAt6ih7vxatzSacd3lRKlCZ61V6AQMTrsqpOrPFT27SUyf5oWFeFh9pxsW90gXqRwBQOj5CzNMf3X4lkhkYwaulQHw/s320/Scan_20230806%20(2).jpg" width="249" /></a></div><p class="Standard"><span style="font-size: 20pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Roger McGuinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00238284241360672020noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13356327.post-34714694438459856982023-05-29T10:29:00.003-05:002023-06-04T11:36:33.473-05:00Roadie Report 86 by Camilla McGuinn - The Story of Aaron<p></p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNbHlU5ybJ4085bHkbNhufpuJQh20lGKE-4LZeqdePXQDNojh5JZFoGgo5KDQXsjvpq5O1X5dXs-xRVhhyzFRv-OrUdnZIYj7Jl1f7dprUVkPbWwX3AFflJZoI0jx1k7mSLHWyJQimBYAh7xA5Joh40HQo6xEMehhkuPM9MAyOIqQC9zfH_w/s3434/Scan_20230529.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div></div> <span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-weight: 700; text-align: center; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Story of Aaron</span><span id="docs-internal-guid-82c83fd6-7fff-cceb-3534-f684994f590d"><br /><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ruth struggled to keep her tears from falling on Aaron as she tried to dress the squirming three year old into his new yellow traveling clothes. He was so excited about taking the trolley to the end of the line but he didn’t know he wasn’t coming back home.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Francis was helping the twin boys pack their small bags to go on the trip. Wilbur and Willie were excited too about the trolley ride. They didn’t know they weren’t going to see their sisters again for a long time.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Aunt Ellie had picked up the baby Magdeline the day before. Ruth and Francis ran to the back yard and cried after the front door closed when their new baby sister being taken away.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">W.H. would take Harvey to the boys ranch, then Ruth and Francis to their new home when he returned from taking the younger boys to Mills Home Baptist Orphanage in Thomasville.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There was no orphanage that would take all seven children, so different homes were found for them.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> A month before, </span></span><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Amanda, the beloved wife and mother, had died from a fatal asthma attack brought on by the sulfur treatment used for asthma, a treatment of the time. W.H. couldn’t care for his family in the tiny four room house with only one hand left after an accident. His grief for Amanda left him emotionally crippled and his children seemed so distant to him. Amanda was their caregiver and his too.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Willie! Wilbur! Hug your sisters and Harvey, then take Aaron by the hands. We’re leaving now.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ruth held on to Aaron as long as she could. Francis took both twins in her arms for one last hug while Harvey just looked at their father with contempt in his eyes.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When the girls and Harvey finished waving goodbye, Harvey turned to ten year old Ruth and asked if she could make a peach pie. Ruth had watched her mother bake, but she didn’t know the measurements for pie crust. Year’s later she would laugh as she told Aaron’s daughter that it was the toughest crust anyone could eat. The three of them sat sadly and quietly at the table as they picked at the almost eatable pie filling while they waited for their father to return and take them to their new homes.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The three little boys were so excited from the moment they got on the trolley to the end of the line. Then something happened. Their father seemed to grow cold and harsh as he marched them up a hill to a very large house. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWb3uiuykqeysv6QFEKUaoi0BUbHIwnRrHMNRcaHLQPljzY9V7mCzGbdHg_vfuuK5oeVDK691RKzMcIK5_YWS7G1iu2a99XUFz8jiA1B_gCgEY5FS2FZ1wIlrNAFNA6QrWyku5RR5BuuMliYlbwtIotGjdcqChp9FRuVZtyCRhrRVHVj3ODw/s493/Durham_Building_Baptist_Orphanage_Thomasville_NC.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="324" data-original-width="493" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWb3uiuykqeysv6QFEKUaoi0BUbHIwnRrHMNRcaHLQPljzY9V7mCzGbdHg_vfuuK5oeVDK691RKzMcIK5_YWS7G1iu2a99XUFz8jiA1B_gCgEY5FS2FZ1wIlrNAFNA6QrWyku5RR5BuuMliYlbwtIotGjdcqChp9FRuVZtyCRhrRVHVj3ODw/w354-h256/Durham_Building_Baptist_Orphanage_Thomasville_NC.jpg" width="354" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Wilbur and Willie held little Aarons hands between them so tightly that Aaron began to cry. They lifted him up the steps to the front door where a smiling lady reached down and lifted Aaron to her hip. She spoke softly to him and and bounced him back and forth while looking lovingly at the twins. She was going to watch these little boys become men and unbeknownst to her, someday go off to war.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">W.H. lifted each boy to his arms and gave them a big squeeze then turned and walked away, never looking back so they wouldn’t see the tears rolling down his cheeks. Four of his children were now gone to live somewhere else and he had to take the other three to their new homes when he returned home for the last time.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That night the loving lady heard Aaron crying in his bed. Her heart was broken for him, so she went to his bed, picked him up and carried him to her bed. She sang softly to him as she rocked him. His tear filled eyes finally closed then they both slipped into the dark night of sleep. She told this story to Aaron’s wife as they both cried after learning he had been shot in Vietnam.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Mills Home Baptist Orphanage was run on love and discipline. The children had chores and constant companions. The twins were placed in a separate room from Aaron since they were older but they tried to see Aaron as much as possible.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As Aaron grew, his chores did too. He had to rise early to milk the cows and take them to pasture in the mornings. In the evenings he returned to the cows to herd them back to the barn. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">School and chores were mandatory. The highlight of the day were meals. There was often chicken on platters on the table when the boys were allowed in the dining room. The chicken had been cut into parts and the older boys knew that if they spit on their hands and hit the good parts that it would be theirs for dinner. Aaron was too small for this tradition so for years he only tasted a wing or a neck.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The home was careful of the the children’s health. Every fall the boys were lined up and given a spoonful of cod liver oil. Aaron hated it. He would hold it in his mouth until he was out of sight and spit it behind the radiator. When the cold weather came, the home would smell like fish oil.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">W.H. would visit occasionally and once in awhile he would bring his daughters to see their brothers. He wasn’t comfortable in the situation. Aaron was six years old when Ruth and Francis came with their father to see the boys. W.H. laughed when he told Aaron that these were his girlfriends. Aaron didn’t recognize them. He thought his father had a lot of girlfriends. Ruth was devastated that Aaron didn’t want to hug her. He had been her charge when they were all together with their mother.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Harvey had been left at a boy’s ranch, but ran away and didn’t see his family for years. Ruth and Francis were put in a girls orphanage. Ruth was small in stature but loved to play basketball. Francis dreamed of being a nurse.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Willie and Wilbur turned eighteen and immediately decide to join the military. Willie joined the Navy but Wilbur was colorblind, so the Navy didn’t want him. Then he joined the Army, he was sent to the tank division.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Aaron was left alone at the orphanage and became very clever on how to get his way by gentle persuasion. It was that training that carried him all his life.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Church was another requirement for all the residents of Mills Home, after all it was a Baptist institution. Aaron always said he had enough religion the first eighteen years of his life to last him a lifetime. As he walked out of the church building on December 7 1941, he didn’t realize how his seventeen year old life was about to change within a month.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There was a call to arms and the only way Aaron could answer the call was to run away from the orphanage and lie about his age.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He stood in front of the recruiters desk without a birth certificate. That wasn’t strange in the day, very few people had one. The recruiter asked his age. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“ Eighteen.” said a very controlled Aaron.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“What’s your full name?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Aaron Zacherus Spaul.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“How do you spell Zacherus?</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I don’t know.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Oh. Well,let’s spell it Z-a-c-h-e-r-u-s.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Okay.” It never occurred to Aaron to care about his middle name.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“What do you want to do in the Navy?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Help.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Help...how about becoming a corpsman?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“What’s a corpsman?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“It’s someone who helps doctors and works in a hospital.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Okay.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Aaron went to boot-camp and corpsman training. During that time, he thought about his middle name and decided to introduce himself as A.Z. His initials would be his moniker for life, private and professional.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A few months later, word came that Wilbur had been killed in Papua New Guinea when his tank was hit by enemy fire. Harvey spent the war working as an electrician at the shipyard in Mobile, Alabama. Aaron, now known as A.Z. was sent to be a hospital corpsman sailor on board a ship in the Pacific.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There was a family reunion after the war. The bonds of their childhood were rekindled and they never wanted to be separated again. The baby, Magdeline, found out she had a different family and the three sisters were instantly bound together in love.</span><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Mills Home Baptist Orphanage was A.Z.’s home for so many years that he wanted to return to a reunion there. It was that night that his eye was drawn to a local vivacious nineteen year old volunteer with sparkling green eyes and raven black hair. She was a mixture of her Scottish and American Indian heritage. A.Z couldn’t take his eyes off of her. They were married a few months later.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Navy became the career path for A.Z. When the Korean War began. He was there. When Vietnam became a debacle for the United States, he knew he would have to go to be with the Marines. Navy Corpsman were often stationed with the Marines and he was ordered to the First Marine Division in Vietnam.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He had a few months before his deployment from Roanoke Virginia where he was stationed at the Naval Reserve Center. He used his influence at the center to get his nephews, Francis’s sons, in the Navy to avoid the army draft. He spent the summer weekends driving to Farmville VA to pick me up from Longwood College where I decided to begin right after high school.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I usually slept on the ride home, but on the last trip I talked all the way home. Daddy listened to my chatter and said little. Just before we were almost home he said,” Squeeze. Do you remember when we lived in Cary?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yes.” Hearing the tone of his voice, I knew something was coming.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“ Well I heard someone refer to me as the fat Chief in the Navy. I decided to do something about it and began taking diet pills. One day I walked into the hardware store to buy a hammer. The owner asked if the one I bought the day before didn’t work. I didn’t remember buying one the day before.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He didn’t say anything else. I knew I had been busted. My dorm suite mates were juniors. When it came time to study for final exams, they gave me pills. Daddy’s orphanage persuasion training always served him well, especially as a gentle guide to his children.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As I’m writing about a conversation with my Father, I flashed on one I had with him when I was four years old. It was in the pink cinder block house in Beaufort South Carolina. Daddy was stationed with the Marines at Parris Island. A storm was pouring and the lightning was flashing. I found comfort on daddy’s lap. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We had just seen a movie about WWII and I was interested in the story. Daddy was in the Navy like the men in the movie so I began asking him questions. He told me about WW1 and WW2. I asked about WW3. He hugged me tight. “I pray there is no WW3.” That eighteen years of religion at Mills Home had taken some root.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Daddy did come back from Vietnam on a stretcher. He had been shot by snipers while checking out a village illness. It was time for his thirty years of service in the Navy to come to the end. He chose his “twilight tour” to be in Norfolk, Virginia. He retired there and went to work for DuPont in Richmond, VA as the employee health inspector. Retirement lasted five years. He died quickly of a stroke at the age of 52 leaving behind a son, a daughter and three wars.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This is my memory of my Navy father on Memorial Day.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Liberation Serif"; font-size: 18pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEV3BFYcPbH5bywy5ucoA2pzRvTolIdniaX9u-2sKM97ye3bJLIkX5P5xC3XbT4YrF2R4TkhUA63kPx6tbxSX52y0O1QIZpTCfXESylY5T3ND0arjpbRwFMIbVOLcmdlAiEQalK-LbUUvQBO3ww8neUX_zZDXCkz9EqzrCypVVOGhuhBQofw/s1302/Scan_20230529%20(5).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1302" data-original-width="992" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEV3BFYcPbH5bywy5ucoA2pzRvTolIdniaX9u-2sKM97ye3bJLIkX5P5xC3XbT4YrF2R4TkhUA63kPx6tbxSX52y0O1QIZpTCfXESylY5T3ND0arjpbRwFMIbVOLcmdlAiEQalK-LbUUvQBO3ww8neUX_zZDXCkz9EqzrCypVVOGhuhBQofw/s320/Scan_20230529%20(5).jpg" width="244" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Special thanks to my BIG brother, who also served in the Navy, for filling in the blanks. It is amazing how different the stories can be that are passed down through generations.</div></span>Roger McGuinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00238284241360672020noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13356327.post-61373963456088446952023-04-30T07:16:00.007-05:002023-04-30T07:24:59.234-05:00<div style="background-color: white;"><div style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><p align="center" style="background: transparent; line-height: 13px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: monospace; font-size: large;"><span class="gmail_default" face="verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span></span></p><p align="center" style="background: transparent; line-height: 13px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: monospace;"><span class="gmail_default" face="verdana, sans-serif" style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Roadie Report 85 by Camilla McGuinn </b></span></span></p><p align="center" style="background: transparent; line-height: 13px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: monospace; font-size: large;"><span class="gmail_default" face="verdana, sans-serif"><br /></span></span></p><p align="center" style="background: transparent; line-height: 13px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: monospace; font-size: large;"><span class="gmail_default" face="verdana, sans-serif"></span>Our Mission From God</span></p><p align="left" style="background: transparent; line-height: 13px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: monospace; font-size: large;">During the long year of isolation because of COVID, Roger and I really enjoyed our home. It was the longest time we had ever spent in the house our Father in Heaven had given us and it was a delightful time.</span></p><p align="left" style="background: transparent; line-height: 13px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: monospace; font-size: large;">I would forage for food and mail once a week and Roger spent time in his studio and walking in the garden. He never left the home front.</span></p><p align="left" style="background: transparent; line-height: 13px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: monospace; font-size: large;">Our kitchen was the busiest it has ever been. Homemade pasta, fresh breads, empanadas and lots of tacos were on the kitchen table and an extra ten pounds on my hips.</span></p><p align="left" style="background: transparent; line-height: 13px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: monospace; font-size: large;">We played trivia twice a week via Zoom with two different groups of friends, including Roger’s old band mate from the BYRDS, Chris Hillman and his wife Connie. Our days were always busy and as the night hours approached we always had a smile on our faces.</span></p><p align="left" style="background: transparent; line-height: 13px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: monospace; font-size: large;">The years God has given us have been filled with HIS blessings and lots of travel to concerts and cruise ships for lectures. We felt for a moment that it was time to retire, after all the age of 80 sounds old.</span></p><p align="left" style="background: transparent; line-height: 13px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: monospace; font-size: large;">BUT WAIT!</span></p><p align="left" style="background: transparent; line-height: 13px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: monospace; font-size: large;">Roger’s concerts and cruise lectures are not about work, it is about a mission from GOD! One big advantage of being in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame is that people don’t walk away when we talk about Jesus. We often laugh that they wouldn’t even say hi if Roger didn’t have an interesting past.</span></p><p align="left" style="background: transparent; line-height: 13px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: monospace; font-size: large;">When the theaters and cruise ships opened up again, we knew it was for the real mission we are on – to lift up the Name above all names, Jesus.</span></p><p align="left" style="background: transparent; line-height: 13px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: monospace; font-size: large;">I’m writing this at 4am because we just returned home from the Seychelles after Roger’s lectures on the Silversea Shadow. Our return home involved over 24 hours in several different airplanes.</span></p><p align="left" style="background: transparent; line-height: 13px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: monospace; font-size: large;">The beginning of the trip from Orlando to Singapore began with a few fiery darts. The gate attendant in Orlando was a bit officious and didn’t like the small cross shoulder bag that held our passports. It was one bag too many. I think she really didn’t like the guitar Roger was carrying and we know that musical instruments by ruling must be allowed on if there is room for it. We had decided to pack 19 days of clothes in two roll-a-boards. Roger had his roll-a-board and the acoustic guitar slung across his back. I had my roll-a-board and a small backpack with my computer and business items and that extra small passport bag. Boy were we in trouble! I don’t know how we did it, but we managed to squeeze the small bag into one of the really packed roll-a-boards. We were the first in line and it was a rush to please the lady.</span></p><p align="left" style="background: transparent; line-height: 13px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: monospace; font-size: large;">At our seats we began to laugh and realized this was different. Something was up. Our flight to JFK to catch Singapore Airlines had a 4 hour layover. When the gate attendant arrived at his podium, I decided to let him know that we had a guitar that fits in the overhead or closet and to ask the flight crew where they preferred we place it. Our seats were in business class and usually it is not a problem. Surprise! It was a problem. It is not a domestic carrier and doesn’t go by all the domestic rulings. They took Roger’s acoustic guitar in its gig bag and gate checked it. Oh they did put a “fragile” sticker on it. I was told it would be at the exit door in Singapore.</span></p><p align="left" style="background: transparent; line-height: 13px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: monospace; font-size: large;">After I put my bag in the overhead, it remained very lonely for the whole trip. The guitar would have kept it company.</span></p><p align="left" style="background: transparent; line-height: 13px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: monospace; font-size: large;">On arrival in Singapore, we were first off the plane. I saw a sign that said all gate checked items would be here. It was raining outside and there was a very long outside stairway leading up to the door. Everyone passed by us as they headed to immigration. We waited. The plane was empty.</span></p><p align="left" style="background: transparent; line-height: 13px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: monospace; font-size: large;">Finally I felt inspired to find someone to help. A lady with a walkie-talkie was walking by and I gently begged her to help us find our guitar. She took pity and went looking on the airplane. When she returned she told us to go to baggage claim. It was too wet for the baggage handlers to climb the stairs.</span></p><p align="left" style="background: transparent; line-height: 13px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: monospace; font-size: large;">Before baggage claim we had to go to an immigration table that had about 8 small computer screens that every passenger had to use for their immigration questions. All the screens were being used by a group of men from India who didn’t understand how to use them. By now my biggest concern was that the driver sent to pick us up to take us to the Silversea Shadow would leave. An official lady helped each of the gentlemen and then she helped us. We could now enter Singapore, so we could leave it.</span></p><p align="left" style="background: transparent; line-height: 13px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: monospace; font-size: large;">At the luggage carousel, we found the guitar laying on the floor. Roger quickly unzipped the bag and strummed the strings. It wasn’t only in good shape, it was in tune. An answer to prayer. I looked out to the greeting area and saw a lone man holding a sign that read “McGuinn”. He didn’t leave us, though he did confess he called the cruise line for directions since we hadn’t showed up with the other guest. They told him to wait. Another answer to prayer.</span></p><p align="left" style="background: transparent; line-height: 13px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: monospace; font-size: large;">It was early in the morning but because Roger was a lecturer, they allowed us on to wait on board for our stateroom to be readied. My first question at the reception desk was, “ Who is the cruise director?” It was Vickie! We had worked with her before and she came out of her office for hugs. She told us to make ourselves comfortable and later asked Roger to do an extra talk because an entertainer had a home emergency and had to leave. Of course. We had been working on an extra talk and we would do anything for Vickie.</span></p><p align="left" style="background: transparent; line-height: 13px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: monospace; font-size: large;">As we sat in the lobby, we began being greeted by guests we had met before. The Silversea World Cruise has many folks who like to do it over and over. It was like coming home.</span></p><p align="left" style="background: transparent; line-height: 13px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: monospace; font-size: large;">The first time Roger gave a talk on Silversea we were surprised when we were immediately inundated with invitations to dinner. There are no set seatings on the ship so guests are free to eat when, where and with whom they please. This was our fourth cruise with this line, so I was ready. I carried a calendar and pen with me at all times so I wouldn’t overbook our dinner engagements.</span></p><p align="left" style="background: transparent; line-height: 13px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: monospace; font-size: large;">Life on board is never boring to us because we live pretty much the same way we live at home, except we live it with about 300 people.</span></p><p align="left" style="background: transparent; line-height: 13px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: monospace; font-size: large;">As we encounter folks from past voyages and new friends met at cocktails, dinners and trivia we are always waiting for the opening we need to mention the name of Jesus. We had more openings on this voyage than ever before. At one dinner, there was a lady mourning the death of her sister sitting next to Roger and she had spiritual questions for him. Another dinner was hosted by a couple who sometimes watched Joel Osteen, we told them to also watch Father Cedric Pisegna on YouTube since they are Catholic. (Fr Cedric is our Catholic priest, we also have a Baptist minister and Pentecostal teacher) A German group at dinner asked Roger how we met...well that is definitely a GOD story and Roger was very bold telling it. We had cocktails with a friend from a previous voyage and he asked us to name three people in history we would like to talk to. I immediately said Jesus. Roger laughed, “ You always talk to Jesus.” We were blessed with some more opportunities to lift up the precious name of Jesus.</span></p><p align="left" style="background: transparent; line-height: 13px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: monospace; font-size: large;">We realized why the fiery darts began our journey but we weren’t ready for the darts that were coming.</span></p><p align="left" style="background: transparent; line-height: 13px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: monospace; font-size: large;">After nineteen days on board, it was time to leave the ship for some long flights home from the Seychelles. Oh, by the way, the Seychelles are lovely!</span></p><p align="left" style="background: transparent; line-height: 13px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: monospace; font-size: large;">There was a van to carry the cruise lecturers to the airport. We had a two hour wait. The airport is small, so we had to struggle up the stairs with our bags. Roger gifted the guitar to the Silversea Shadow and asked them to treat it like a lending library for passengers and crew. We had too many airplane connections to fret about the guitar surviving the trip home with us, so it felt better to give it away than to have it stolen or broken.</span></p><p align="left" style="background: transparent; line-height: 13px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: monospace; font-size: large;">I don’t think I would have made it up the stairs to the airplane door with my two bags if two women hadn’t offered to carry them for me. Roger seemed to do okay even though his knee is bone on bone.</span></p><p align="left" style="background: transparent; line-height: 13px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: monospace; font-size: large;">The flight to Qatar was five hours long. When Roger got off the elevator on the way to the amazing Qatar Business Class lounge, he twisted his knee. We waited in the lounge for a little over an hour.</span></p><p align="left" style="background: transparent; line-height: 13px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: monospace; font-size: large;">Qatar to Dallas-Fortworth airport was a 17 hour flight. I sat down, put my seat back, covered my head and slept. When I awoke, I saw Roger hobble to the lavatory. His knee was giving him a lot of pain. I was inspired to do something, so I asked the flight attendant to arrange a wheelchair at DFW. I spent the rest of the long time watching the screen in front of me. Finally after a very tasty bowl of Thai chicken and noodles, I chose “Gone With The Wind” to fall asleep again.</span></p><p align="left" style="background: transparent; line-height: 13px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: monospace; font-size: large;">Roger and I drive to concerts because we carry 4 instruments and equipment. I had long lost my “chops” for flying and forgot about how large DFW airport has become.</span></p><p align="left" style="background: transparent; line-height: 13px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: monospace; font-size: large;">There were greeters with wheelchairs for about 20 people on the plane. We were first off, we waited for all of the chair people to be gathered together. Then the journey began.</span></p><p align="left" style="background: transparent; line-height: 13px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: monospace; font-size: large;">We were rolled in a group a long way with an elevator ride to immigration and Customs. Fortunately we have “GOES,” so the attendant took us through immigration and Customs to the recheck baggage point. Even though we hadn’t checked any bags, I was very tired of mine and decided to check it or at least throw it out the window. Our attendant left us and pointed at a door for me to push Roger through. The TSA check point line was short but when we were on the other side I had no idea where to go.</span></p><p align="left" style="background: transparent; line-height: 13px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: monospace; font-size: large;">As the line goes, “ I live off the kindness of strangers” and that’s what I kept doing. Where do we GO? We went down an elevator and I asked that question to a person in a uniform. He said we could take the cart to Terminal C. Our position in Terminal D was a LONG way from Terminal C. It was so long that we were transferred to three more carts. It was miles away!</span></p><p align="left" style="background: transparent; line-height: 13px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: monospace; font-size: large;">It was at this point that we began praising God for we know that all things work together for good for those who love the Lord and are called according to HIS purpose. We were thankful Roger hurt his knee, we were thankful to be able to leave the guitar on the ship, we were thankful that I managed to check my bag. If all of those things had not happened, we would have been walking the halls of DFW to this day.</span></p><p align="left" style="background: transparent; line-height: 13px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: monospace; font-size: large;">I told my dear friend Jane about the trip and she laughed. “Oh good! The purpose for Roger’s bad knee has happened, now it can be healed!”</span></p><p align="left" style="background: transparent; line-height: 13px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: monospace; font-size: large;">My dear friends, thank you for praying for healing for Roger’s knee.</span></p><p align="left" style="background: transparent; line-height: 13px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: monospace; font-size: large;">I’m looking forward to that day when he comes walking briskly into my office and says, “ Let’s walk to Trader Joes for dinner supplies.”</span></p></div><div style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><div data-smartmail="gmail_signature" dir="ltr"><div dir="ltr"><ol style="text-align: left;"><li><br /></li></ol></div></div></div><div style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><p align="left" style="background: transparent; font-size: small; line-height: 13px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="comic sans ms, sans-serif" style="color: blue; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p align="left" style="background: transparent; font-size: small; line-height: 13px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="comic sans ms, sans-serif" style="color: blue; font-size: medium;"><b></b></span></p><p align="left" style="background: transparent; font-size: small; line-height: 13px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face="comic sans ms, sans-serif" style="color: blue; font-size: medium;"><b></b></span></p><p align="left" style="background: transparent; font-size: small; line-height: 13px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p></div></div>Roger McGuinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00238284241360672020noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13356327.post-22327166011908048392020-11-28T12:31:00.002-05:002020-11-29T11:15:27.803-05:00Roadie Report 84 by Camilla McGuinn - Oh, What a Leap Year!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jJ0-LecWqgc/X8KD20OofoI/AAAAAAAAJss/Xr46BiAiQF8lOApAHR_SYWuLn2cus7sTgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Merry%2BChristmas%2BCD%2BFront%2BCover.jpg" style="font-size: 24px; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="357" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jJ0-LecWqgc/X8KD20OofoI/AAAAAAAAJss/Xr46BiAiQF8lOApAHR_SYWuLn2cus7sTgCLcBGAsYHQ/w357-h357/Merry%2BChristmas%2BCD%2BFront%2BCover.jpg" width="357" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large; text-align: justify;"><span> </span>I always said that Roger and I could live on a deserted
island. The word is “deserted,” not “desert.” Our deserted island would have
food, water and wine. Well we have been on a deserted island since March. That
was the last month Roger left the property. Every week or so, I forage for food
and pick up the mail. I volunteered to venture out because I’m the youngster in
the house.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large; text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-tab-count: 1; text-align: justify;"> <span> </span></span><span style="font-size: large; text-align: justify;">Our neighbors are
having distancing driveway gatherings. I sometimes go and explain, “Roger is
old.” I smiled at the reaction I heard the first time I said those words. They
all replied, “NO!” and then “How old is he?” I giggled because I knew Roger
doesn’t even realize how many years are on his driver’s license. I’m aware of
the years on mine because I take advantage of senior days.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><span> </span>When we got
married in 1978 on April First, we wondered about the choice of the date. By Divine
inspiration, April 1<sup>st</sup> was the day of our vows. We pondered the date
and decided to see which day of the year it was. That day was the 91<sup>st</sup>
day of the year – if it wasn’t a Leap Year. We opened our Bible to Psalm 91 and
declared it our wedding present from God, since HE inspired the date. Now the
story of our betrothal is a whole separate story someday to be told but for now
let’s talk about this year.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large; mso-tab-count: 1; text-align: justify;"><span> </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large; text-align: justify;"><span> </span>This is a Leap
Year! And oh what a year! Our economy shut down, so did our concert work.
Theaters are shuttered, musicians are just strumming and agents are pulling out
their hair trying to reschedule concert dates.</span></div>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Doing nothing
is not in our psyches. We thrive on working. Now, Roger goes to the studio and
records a project that has been waiting to do for over 60 years – the songs
from “Gene Tryp.” It was a play that Jacques Levy asked Roger to write the
music for in 1968. The play never got on Broadway but Roger got some wonderful
songs to sing. “Chestnut Mare” being his favorite.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> <span> </span>O</span>nce recording
begins, his studio door is shut from 1- 4pm, Monday-Thursday. Closets and
cabinets beckon me to purge them and so does the kitchen. I have finally used
the dusty KitchenAid mixer and all of its attachments. Fresh bread and fresh
pasta roll out of the machine like it was made for the task. When the song
tracks are ready, Roger invites me in to work on the mixing and mastering.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>There is truth
to the statement “give a busy person the job that needs to be done.” Not being
real busy anymore, my office has stacks of mail and papers sitting all around.
I just tell myself, “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll think about that tomorrow.
Time to make pasta.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Two weeks ago,
Roger took a break to think about the song for the December “Folk Den,” the
online project he has recorded monthly on mcguinn.com for over 25 years.
December is the month for a Christmas song. The two 4 CD sets of “The Folk Den
Project” were on his desk. He picked them up and listened to all the December
songs. It was the Christmas recording he always wanted to do. We tried it years
ago, but didn’t feel right about it, but this time we were both amazed at the joy we felt as we
were listening.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Technology has
come a long way in 25 years. Some of the songs were just two tracks recorded on
DAT. Realizing that if we digitally re-mastered the recordings the quality of
the mixes would improve. It took two days to master the 13 songs we picked.
Then it was easy to put the art work together from photos I had been taking for
years to feature on a Christmas CD.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Our intent was
to make it for our neighbors and send it to our friends as a Christmas card. I
called Oasis Manufacturing to get a quote and realized if we wanted it to be
professionally pressed we needed 300 copies. We were happy with the songs, maybe
someone else will be also. The process of a simple Christmas card became a
little more complicated. CDBABY was contacted, the final product was approved
and we are waiting with Christmas anticipation for the gift we have to give.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Merry
Christmas” has an official release date of December 1st. It will be available
for download and streaming. The physical CD will be primarily listed on Amazon.
CDBABY takes care of distribution to all outlets.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>We wanted our family
and friends to be surprised when they opened their mail. Roger was a little
concerned that I was telling the story too soon. I laughed, “No one reads my
blog except 13 dear ones. Especially since I haven’t written in a year!”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>This is a very
unusual year and a year that we will all be happy to leap over! In the meantime,
the Christmas lights are up, the music is playing and we are grateful for the inexpressible
Gift of this Joyous Season.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 24px; text-align: center;"> <b> MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL </b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 24px; text-align: center;"><b><span> </span><span> </span>AND MAY WE ALL LEAP </b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 24px; text-align: center;"><b> JOYFULLY INTO THE NEW YEAR!</b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-st9NDeTF7LE/X8KD6sC6h9I/AAAAAAAAJsw/1G4zLXoQi48HEoGJoifzMkeE2yqw3PBCgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Merry%2BChristmas%2BCD%2BBack%2BCover.jpg" style="font-size: 18pt; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="385" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-st9NDeTF7LE/X8KD6sC6h9I/AAAAAAAAJsw/1G4zLXoQi48HEoGJoifzMkeE2yqw3PBCgCLcBGAsYHQ/w385-h385/Merry%2BChristmas%2BCD%2BBack%2BCover.jpg" width="385" /></a></div><span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
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<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>Roger McGuinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00238284241360672020noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13356327.post-19652126296652168262019-11-10T14:24:00.000-05:002019-11-10T14:24:39.894-05:00Roadie Report 83 by Camilla McGuinn - I'm Proud to be from a military family!<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bCcu_Yo8aqM/XchLUem6LCI/AAAAAAAAIuE/Z5OCVGBZVNMhkyR4AVfxhLdp50i9KeCqACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/CHIEF%2BSPAUL%2BVET%2BDAY%2B201911102019_00000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1160" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bCcu_Yo8aqM/XchLUem6LCI/AAAAAAAAIuE/Z5OCVGBZVNMhkyR4AVfxhLdp50i9KeCqACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/CHIEF%2BSPAUL%2BVET%2BDAY%2B201911102019_00000.jpg" width="231" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">A.Z. SPAUL<br />HMCS USN<br />My daddy!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OvIrmxmWj2I/XchJEIgjn0I/AAAAAAAAIt4/XMAzNjV2tjMrHbX8JyYruSBykRzw4au-ACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/VETS%2BDAY%2B201911102019_00001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1488" data-original-width="1600" height="297" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OvIrmxmWj2I/XchJEIgjn0I/AAAAAAAAIt4/XMAzNjV2tjMrHbX8JyYruSBykRzw4au-ACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/VETS%2BDAY%2B201911102019_00001.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">This photo includes my father on maneuvers in 1959 while stationed at the U.S. Marine Corps Air Station, Beaufort, SC. He would always bring home his sack to show me and my brother the supplies he took with him. We thought he was a "lucky duck" to get to have all those k-rations. The "Sick Bay" was his life's work for 30 years. He was stationed in the Pacific during WW2 and of course during the Korean War. In Vietnam he was stationed with the Marines. The ride home from Vietnam was on a stretcher. A Purple Heart medal now rest in a chest by my bed. His "twilight tour"- the last tour of service in the Navy - was spent in Norfolk, VA. When he was 17, he ran away from the orphanage and lied about his age to join the Navy. His tour of duty was from 1941-1972. He died suddenly one night in 1975 of a cerebral hemorrhage, he was 52 years old. Three wars in one lifetime can do that to you.<br /><br />My brother and I loved living on military bases. There were always so many things for us to do. The pay wasn't much, but the bases made sure that kids and teenagers had lots of activities to keep them out of trouble. My father's one major word to us, "If you get in trouble on the base, I have to go before the Captain. DON'T make me go before the Captain of the base!" It was a very effective way to keep us from a whole lot of mischief, though my brother did; he just didn't get caught. Me? I was almost an angel. ( I hope my brother doesn't read this; he might tell on me!)</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0tDL2ZYmq_I/XchOs6sFSBI/AAAAAAAAIuQ/fsf3A4ggCxwNyHcZHamBMGlBtTjIB0bGwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/WIL%2BSPAUL11102019_00000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1241" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0tDL2ZYmq_I/XchOs6sFSBI/AAAAAAAAIuQ/fsf3A4ggCxwNyHcZHamBMGlBtTjIB0bGwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/WIL%2BSPAUL11102019_00000.jpg" width="248" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">My brother, W.A Spaul, finished his Masters at ASU then served in the Navy (active and reserves) between 1974-1989. He left as a Commander (O-5), Medical Service Corps. I think our childhoods on military bases had a lot to do with him wanting to be a part of the Navy.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tnA_29XOfx4/XchQcLNRBuI/AAAAAAAAIuc/jemQehFGbsYxEqKzSuI12Fi3-iSb-hpPgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Wilber%2B%2BSPAUL11102019_00000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1260" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tnA_29XOfx4/XchQcLNRBuI/AAAAAAAAIuc/jemQehFGbsYxEqKzSuI12Fi3-iSb-hpPgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Wilber%2B%2BSPAUL11102019_00000.jpg" width="251" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">My uncle Wilber was drafted into the Army after the Navy wouldn't take him because of an vision problem. He was only overseas for 90 days when he was killed in battle while serving in the U.S Army Armored Tank Battalion.<br /><br />Roger used to joke that every four years I begin packing even if we weren't moving. I loved changing bases, cities and even the 36 hour prop-plane ride to Guam. My love of travel still carries on to this day. Thank you NAVY!<br />But especially, THANK YOU all who have served and are serving our country and your families too!<br /><br />Roger and I applaud you and pray for you!<br />GOD BLESS AMERICA</span></td></tr>
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<span id="goog_1366573604"></span><span id="goog_1366573605"></span>Roger McGuinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00238284241360672020noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13356327.post-75776132541760270172019-08-17T14:17:00.001-05:002019-08-18T12:57:13.420-05:00Roadie Report 82 - Roger McGuinn's Celebration of Peter Fonda - as told to Camilla McGuinn<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>1962</b><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> Roger was
tuning his 12-string guitar backstage at the Flamingo when Bobby Darin came up
to him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="clear: left; float: left; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="204" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jxjD_kBTWcg/XVhQXoOqB7I/AAAAAAAAIog/YHROslpgWX0DxXmp5p3xz20K8QkdF_bywCLcBGAs/s1600/tammy.jpg" /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt;"> “Jim, I think you might want to stay
around after your segment to meet Henry Fonda’s son, Peter. Sandy and Peter just
finished making one of those “Tammy” movies and Peter was the doctor. They will
be coming backstage after the show.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> Bobby Darin pulled
Jim McGuinn out of the world of folk music to the world of Vegas and the fast
lane of the “rat pack” when he saw Roger perform as a backup musician for The
Chad Mitchell Trio at Hollywood’s Crescendo Club, opening up for Lenny Bruce.
Before Lenny took the stage, Bobby went backstage and offered Jim twice the
money The Trio was paying him if he would join Bobby on stage for a folk
segment in his Vegas show. From that moment on Bobby Darin became a mentor to
Jim McGuinn.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> The backstage
was filled with people after Bobby’s show. Jim was standing against the wall
watching everyone, when Peter Fonda walked toward him with his hand
outstretched and a big smile on his face. “You were great up there man!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> Jim recognized
the Fonda look and immediately was drawn in by his smile. Peter jumped into a
conversation like they were old friends. The normal questions: “Where are you
from? No one is from Las Vegas.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> “I’m from
Chicago.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> “Chicago! My
best friend is from there. Where did you go to school?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> “The Latin
School.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> “Wow…Stormy
McDonald!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> “Yeah! ... he
was MY best friend in high school”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And their friendship began on the love of a mutual friend.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>1964</b><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> The BYRDS were
formed and performing every night at Ciros’ night club on Sunset Strip, creating
music and a new Hollywood scene. The buzz was on and the audience was filled
with entertainment’s elite. Marlon Brando, Jack Nicholson, Peter Fonda and new hopeful
groups including Sonny and Cher. Backstage was always buzzing. Jim introduced Peter
to the band and their friendship picked up where it left off a few years
before. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> “Mr.
Tambourine Man” became a world wide hit and Peter wanted the BYRDS to play at
his sister Jane’s birthday party in Malibu at Henry Fonda’s house. What Peter
didn’t count on was that the BYRDS’ followers who were referred to as “freaks”,
followed them everywhere and crashed the party. It didn’t bother Peter, but Henry
was a bit astonished. The “freaks” were
being freaks, smelling of patchouli and dancing up to Henry Fonda in the strangest
of ways. Henry asked Peter to try to get the Byrds to turn down but Peter just
told them “Play as loud as you like.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> The BEATLES
came to town and sent a limousine to pick up Jim and David Crosby. Jim had the
driver stop to pick up Peter. After slowly maneuvering through the hundreds of
fans that camped at the Beatles’ rented house, they made it through the front
door. David was always the man with the best drugs; LSD was handed out.
Everyone except Paul took the acid. John, George, Jim, David and Peter went
into the huge master bedroom shower to escape the prying eyes of the security
and the fans. As they passed a guitar around, the stories abounded. It was in
this shower where John was inspired by Peter to write, “She Said, She Said.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> Peter and Jim
lived close to each other; when they weren’t working, they were playing like
school friends. In 1958 the Class B CB radio became available to the general
public. Jim and Peter were fascinated. The radio was the size of a shoe box
with tubes. To put it in a car, you would first have to make an antenna to
attach to the outside shell of the car. Jim went to Peter’s house and the two
of them proceeded to make the antennas. Peter taught Jim how to solder. After
burning his finger several times, he became proficient with the tool; it is a
tool Roger uses to this day very efficiently. Once the CBs were ready, they
would get into their separate cars and drive around the Hollywood hills talking
to each other with dialogue mimicking two pilots flying around Los Angeles air
space. They even mastered the International Phonetic alphabet: Alpha, Bravo,
Charlie, Delta, Echo. There was no limit to their imaginations. Peter became Roger's gadget mentor. When Roger finally got some extra money, he would call Peter and ask what was the best brand of the gadget he was looking to buy. From recorders, musical equipment and laser beams, Peter always had the answers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="clear: right; float: right; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1280" height="256" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fG7SGgBinMM/XVhSVNImWBI/AAAAAAAAIo8/qkqyJVLE5NwZG0YjAOx80rgy8L-ebtFEwCLcBGAs/s320/Lear_23.jpeg" width="320" /></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> Air travel was a passion for Jim. On one
Lear Jet ride to Pensacola, FL for a BYRDS concert, Jim invited Peter to join
the group. John Lear, Bill Lear’s son,
was the pilot. Roger was sitting on the jump seat at the front of the plane
when John told Roger to tell the guys in the back to buckle up. “We’re about to
have a thrill.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">John commenced with a “split-s”
and Jim’s coffee cup didn’t even spill a drop when the plane twisted upside
down. Peter wrote about that wild ride on the liner notes of the Byrds’ “Easy
Rider” album.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">After the wild Lear Jet ride,
Jim wrote a song called, “2-4-2 Fox Trot (Lear Jet Song.)” He even used the sound
of John’s Lear Jet engines on the recording with the control tower talking in
the background.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">John Lear loved the song and
gave Jim 25 hours of free Lear Jet time. A quick phone call to Peter, a fast drive
to Van Nuys airport and they were flying to wherever John was ferrying folks.
One trip to Vegas was to pick up of a very serious stocky man wearing gold. He
sat down, looked at Peter, pointed at him and said, “I know your father.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<b style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: large;">1969</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="clear: left; float: left; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1464" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Sf_--aBzIeE/XVhQ9sQv0GI/AAAAAAAAIoo/LN3_5dkW1-YVp0OvH8_7GQ-dL8DkFpMJgCLcBGAs/s320/Easy_Rider.jpg" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px;" width="312" /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 22.8267px;">Peter wanted to make a difference. With friend Dennis Hopper, they decided to beat the Hollywood game and make a film like no other on a shoe-string budget. They would be the main characters with a young Jack Nicholson. After the film was in the can, Peter gave Dennis his entire record collection to put on the sound track as a place holder. He and Dennis loved the effect. Contemporary sounds on a contemporary movie.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 22.8267px;"> Peter wanted one song that was written expressly for the movie, so he carried the film cans to New York and screened it for Bob Dylan.</span><span style="font-size: 16pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Bob watched the movie. Bob didn’t like the ending; he scratched some words on a paper napkin. Handing the napkin to Peter, he said, “Give this to McGuinn, he’ll know what to do with it.” </span>Peter, took the film cans, got
back on a plane, flew to Los Angeles and drove to Roger’s house (by now Jim had
changed his name to Roger). Peter reverently gave him the paper napkin, “Bob
wants you to have this man. I think this is a little pastoral. Maybe you can put
an edge on it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Roger got out his guitar, made
up a tune and finished the words. The line “All they wanted was to be free”
cinched the song for Peter. Dennis asked Roger about that line. “Hey man, what does
it mean?” Roger said, “Think about it” After a few moments, Dennis exclaimed in
a whispered voice, “Wow ... that’s heavy man.” Peter also asked Roger to record
Dylan’s song, “It’s Alright Ma” for the movie. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> After Roger saw the movie he said to Peter, "Wish I could have been in it. " Peter smiled, " You were man." </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>2015</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Years passed. In August 2015
while performing at the Historical Iao Theater in Wailuku, Maui, Roger was
surprised backstage with a visit from his old friend Peter. Parky, Peter’s
wife, and I stood watching two old friends flashing back to the days when they
shared adventures. We were smiling and commenting on how they looked like two
school boys laughing at their memories. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>2018</b><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> Roger received
a phone call from Peter. Peter was excited about celebrating the 50<sup>th</sup>
Anniversary of the movie “Easy Rider” and wanted Roger to be part of it. The
idea was to show the movie with the sound track being performed live by the
artists. Roger would do anything for his old friend and the thought of seeing
Peter again was definitely worth it even though there were logistical problems.
<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><b>2019</b><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> “OH NO!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I didn’t think Roger would be
that upset over the increase in the Spectrum Cable bill. When I turned my head,
I saw the anguish on his face. He had just read that Peter had died. Peter wasn’t
with us anymore.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Roger immediately said he didn’t
want to go to NYC because he was just doing it for Peter. I pointed out to him
that Peter had called and asked him to do it. Roger had to go perform “The
Ballad of Easy Rider” and "It's Alright, Ma" for Peter at the celebration of Peter's movie “Easy Rider.”
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Roger will be singing for the celebration
of “Easy Rider”</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 107%; text-indent: 0.5in;"> but more importantly;</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Roger will be singing</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"> for the celebration of a
dear friend’s life;</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Peter Fonda</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></span></span>
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Peter and Roger backstage in Maui!</span></div>
<br />Roger McGuinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00238284241360672020noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13356327.post-72447916978035255872019-02-05T12:08:00.000-05:002019-02-05T12:28:26.702-05:00Roadie Report 81- Catching Rainbows-Words and Chords<b style="background-color: white; color: #3d85c6; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 20px;"></b><br />
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<br />
<span style="color: red; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b>Roger received a Tweet from a fan asking for the words and chords to the song "Catching Rainbows" which is on the CD "Sweet Memories." This song is about our adventures and the joy we have traveling. "SHIMMERING A DIAMOND PATH" is the image we see while looking at the ocean when sunlight catches the ripples on the water</b></span><br />
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<b>Catching Rainbows</b></div>
<div class="m_-8156623593546611745gmail-p2" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 28px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 34px;">
<b></b><br /></div>
<div class="m_-8156623593546611745gmail-p3" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 20px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
<b>[D] I was standing on the [F#m] corner on a rainy [G] night</b></div>
<div class="m_-8156623593546611745gmail-p3" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 20px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
<b>[D] Waiting for the light to [A] turn</b></div>
<div class="m_-8156623593546611745gmail-p3" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 20px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
<b>[D] When I thought of all the [F#m] places, all the things [G] we did</b></div>
<div class="m_-8156623593546611745gmail-p3" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 20px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
<b>[D] Just to keep the fire [A] burning</b></div>
<div class="m_-8156623593546611745gmail-p4" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 20px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 24px;">
<b></b><br /></div>
<div class="m_-8156623593546611745gmail-p3" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 20px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
<b>[D] Giving [F#m] hearts of [G] thunder [A]</b></div>
<div class="m_-8156623593546611745gmail-p3" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 20px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
<b>[D] Scaling [F#m] cliffs that [G] rise down [A] under</b></div>
<div class="m_-8156623593546611745gmail-p3" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 20px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
<b>[D] Flying [F#m] cotton [G] clouds in a [Em] tailspin</b></div>
<div class="m_-8156623593546611745gmail-p3" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 20px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
<b>[G] Catching [A] rainbows</b></div>
<div class="m_-8156623593546611745gmail-p4" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 20px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 24px;">
<b></b><br /></div>
<div class="m_-8156623593546611745gmail-p3" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 20px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
<b>Sailing o’re the ocean</b></div>
<div class="m_-8156623593546611745gmail-p3" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 20px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
<b>Watching with the dawn approaching</b></div>
<div class="m_-8156623593546611745gmail-p3" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 20px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
<b>Taking time someplace it has not been</b></div>
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<b>Catching rainbows</b></div>
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<b></b><br /></div>
<div class="m_-8156623593546611745gmail-p3" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 20px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
<b>CH</b></div>
<div class="m_-8156623593546611745gmail-p3" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 20px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
<b>[G] See the [A] light come [D] for us</b></div>
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<b>[G] Shimmering [A] a [D] diamond [Bm] path</b></div>
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<b>[G] Paving dreams of [D] glory</b></div>
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<b>Seeking [G] solace in the [Em] Sacred [A] Story</b></div>
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<b></b><br /></div>
<div class="m_-8156623593546611745gmail-p3" style="font-size: 20px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
<b><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Gripping days of slumber</span></b></div>
<div class="m_-8156623593546611745gmail-p3" style="font-size: 20px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
<b><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Keeping words without a number</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b style="font-size: 20px;">Sailing silver s</b><b>eas through the moonbeams</b></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Catching rainbows</span></b></div>
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<b></b><br /></div>
<div class="m_-8156623593546611745gmail-p5" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 21px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
<b>Sailing o’re the ocean</b></div>
<div class="m_-8156623593546611745gmail-p5" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 21px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
<b>Watching with the dawn approaching</b></div>
<div class="m_-8156623593546611745gmail-p5" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 21px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
<b>Laughing in the haze of our daydreams</b></div>
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<b>Catching rainbows</b></div>
<div class="m_-8156623593546611745gmail-p4" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 20px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 24px;">
<b></b><br /></div>
<div class="m_-8156623593546611745gmail-p5" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 21px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
<b>CH</b></div>
<div class="m_-8156623593546611745gmail-p5" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 21px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
<b>See the light come for us</b></div>
<div class="m_-8156623593546611745gmail-p5" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 21px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
<b>Shimmering a diamond path</b></div>
<div class="m_-8156623593546611745gmail-p5" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 21px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
<b>Paving dreams of glory</b></div>
<div class="m_-8156623593546611745gmail-p5" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 21px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">
<b>Seeking solace in the Sacred Story</b></div>
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<span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: arial black, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">https://store.cdbaby.com/artist/rogermcguinn</span><br />
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Roger McGuinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00238284241360672020noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13356327.post-61269052413315589012018-10-23T17:37:00.000-05:002019-02-05T12:36:00.758-05:00Roadie Report 80 by Camilla McGuinn - The Sweetheart of the Rodeo - 50 Years Later!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xKLwUy212rg/W89x5YTXA4I/AAAAAAAAIXE/QOF2yBHi5gQ78fQZRWTk5emo75tfBmSrgCLcBGAs/s1600/1-P1040222.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="font-size: 34.6667px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xKLwUy212rg/W89x5YTXA4I/AAAAAAAAIXE/QOF2yBHi5gQ78fQZRWTk5emo75tfBmSrgCLcBGAs/s400/1-P1040222.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marty Stuart, Roger McGuinn and Chris Hillmans</td></tr>
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We woke up early because we
were so excited about celebrating my birthday on our porch during this break
from touring since September 5th with Chris Hillman, Marty Stuart and the Fabulous
Superlatives, celebrating the 50th Anniversary of the "Sweetheart of the
Rodeo" recording.</div>
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The idea for our tour came to
us while we were sitting in the airport in Buenos Aires, on February 6, 2018.
Our conversation centered on Chris and Connie Hillman. They'd had a particularly
difficult 2017. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Chris was on the road
promoting his new recording "Bidin' My Time" when his producer and our dear friend, Tom
Petty, suddenly died. Then on Chris's birthday, they returned to their home after a celebration dinner to find that their house had been caught in the Thomas Fire. All their neighbor's
houses were gone but most of theirs was still standing. They had to move out
for months.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-90EbX6VxUeE/W8-IraF-ieI/AAAAAAAAIYc/KJqPLpSaoAg0DFpV3aFGnWIrtwGaXJzUwCLcBGAs/s1600/01-P1040779-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1378" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-90EbX6VxUeE/W8-IraF-ieI/AAAAAAAAIYc/KJqPLpSaoAg0DFpV3aFGnWIrtwGaXJzUwCLcBGAs/s320/01-P1040779-001.JPG" width="275" /></a>We wanted to do something special
for the Hillmans and our conversation turned to the recording of the "Sweetheart
of the Rodeo." It had been 50 years since Roger and Chris released the
recording to a very chilly reception, but over the years the music has risen to
the top of the ranks of appreciated Byrds'
recordings.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Tx6zjPcF04I/W8-F5nM9HvI/AAAAAAAAIX0/zFK8rKNqOQEe-njqQC_Ii0xo7kFVSYkJQCLcBGAs/s1600/03-P1040717-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1411" data-original-width="1600" height="282" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Tx6zjPcF04I/W8-F5nM9HvI/AAAAAAAAIX0/zFK8rKNqOQEe-njqQC_Ii0xo7kFVSYkJQCLcBGAs/s320/03-P1040717-001.JPG" width="320" /></a>We began tossing out an idea
to each other, "What if we did a couple of dates to celebrate the
"Sweetheart" album? Maybe we could get Marty Stuart and The Fabulous
Superlatives to join us." Marty with the Superlatives had toured with Roger a couple of
years ago and Roger loved every minute of playing with those amazing musicians.<o:p></o:p><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BcKVt3w-NNw/W8-YqIeP0rI/AAAAAAAAIZU/fWjCt4frteAVxTwGg6aAZD4DGnKvibkhwCLcBGAs/s1600/3-P1040196.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="930" data-original-width="1600" height="232" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BcKVt3w-NNw/W8-YqIeP0rI/AAAAAAAAIZU/fWjCt4frteAVxTwGg6aAZD4DGnKvibkhwCLcBGAs/s400/3-P1040196.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sound Check- A lot of music, fun and laughter!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
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Between emails and phone
calls, Chris confirmed he was on board. Then it was the matter of seeing if
Marty was available. Marty was touring with Chris Stapleton, so his schedule
was filled, but he so wanted to do it that he gave the go ahead to start
booking a few concert dates.</div>
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Roger insisted that his agent,
Andrea Sabata from Skyline Music, book the tour because Roger is very
particular about where he plays and how
often he will play and travel between concerts. For Andrea, it was a big
challenge. She had to work around Marty's schedule and get approval from
promoters in the markets where Marty was
playing with Stapelton.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9Q1acCbPt5U/W8-EWYNofZI/AAAAAAAAIXY/1Meo3bSBaQAZjFPP3-EGVN8n5d0lH9djgCLcBGAs/s1600/08-P1040639.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1162" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9Q1acCbPt5U/W8-EWYNofZI/AAAAAAAAIXY/1Meo3bSBaQAZjFPP3-EGVN8n5d0lH9djgCLcBGAs/s320/08-P1040639.JPG" width="232" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Marty was going to celebrate his 60th birthday during the time frame of this tour and Chris was going to celebrate his 74th. We were thrilled to give musicians who loved playing guitars, the guitar Roger designed, the HD-7 String guitar, as a birthday present. </div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/--h_0pwbX2_A/W8-LGwYj_kI/AAAAAAAAIYo/ijzU20WUjmUpx0tJB5RLrBUKc86YJofNgCLcBGAs/s1600/1-IMG_3310.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1334" height="356" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/--h_0pwbX2_A/W8-LGwYj_kI/AAAAAAAAIYo/ijzU20WUjmUpx0tJB5RLrBUKc86YJofNgCLcBGAs/s640/1-IMG_3310.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Mike Campbell joined the band at the Ace Theater.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DmIaQ_OYFsg/W8-En0dz8UI/AAAAAAAAIXo/Ws8ph_QPEpouojyVxo0KHszL_sYjd4q6ACEwYBhgL/s1600/06-P1040666.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DmIaQ_OYFsg/W8-En0dz8UI/AAAAAAAAIXo/Ws8ph_QPEpouojyVxo0KHszL_sYjd4q6ACEwYBhgL/s320/06-P1040666.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0hsj-x7_u4o/W8-GVu01kiI/AAAAAAAAIYE/525fn0xZ9y0F2s92FL7rgFPy4CnsOMBDQCLcBGAs/s1600/05-P1040702-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1422" data-original-width="1600" height="284" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0hsj-x7_u4o/W8-GVu01kiI/AAAAAAAAIYE/525fn0xZ9y0F2s92FL7rgFPy4CnsOMBDQCLcBGAs/s320/05-P1040702-001.JPG" width="320" /></a>Dates in California came together
quickly, so we packed the van and hit the road. The Theater at the Ace Hotel in
Los Angeles was the first of many beautiful theaters to follow. We really just
wanted to do a few shows, but as the word spread and the schedule allowed, more
dates kept streaming in. Some cites sold out so fast that a second night was
added. Los Angeles, Albany, New York City and Clearwater were clamoring for a second show. Promoters and fans
were inundating Andrea with requests for the show, but the schedule filled
quickly and many were disappointed. Fans were buying airplane tickets from as
far away as Europe.</div>
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The scramble for dates was intensified because this is a 50 year celebration and the year ends with
the last date in Fort Lauderdale,
Florida on Dec 19, 2018. That show is almost sold out, but there are two
December concerts in Florida that
haven't sold out yet, but there aren't many seats left. Ponte Verde and the second Clearwater date, which was just
added, might have some seats available. I think the last show will be a very emotional moment for the players
and the crew, I know it will be for the roadies, me and Connie.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Connie Hillman had a career
in music management for years while Chris was always touring. They had never
really toured the way Roger and I do, so we became mentors to these two music
pros on how to tour like it's a honeymoon.</div>
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After the concerts on the west coast, the Hillman's flew from their home in California to Kansas City and rented a car.
We were a caravan through the
mid-west and the east coast. Every morning, before we shifted into drive, Roger
and Chris would sing into the walkie talkies (provided by"Mr. Techie"
- Roger ) the theme from the 50's <span style="background: white; color: #545454; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">American
Western </span><em><b><span style="background: white; color: #6a6a6a; font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-style: normal;">TV series</span></b></em> "Rawhide"</div>
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"Rolling, rolling,
rolling<o:p></o:p></div>
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Keep them doggies
rolling."<o:p></o:p></div>
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On the few days we weren't together I missed seeing Chris and Connie's car in the rear view mirror. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pQkPylrT6pA/W8-LNEx2uSI/AAAAAAAAIY0/RV4nmjM3_0cYa2ioL2KYBQebX8-kC_YPACEwYBhgL/s1600/2-IMG_2298.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1461" data-original-width="1600" height="292" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pQkPylrT6pA/W8-LNEx2uSI/AAAAAAAAIY0/RV4nmjM3_0cYa2ioL2KYBQebX8-kC_YPACEwYBhgL/s320/2-IMG_2298.jpg" width="320" /></a>There was one special stop
where the Hillman's weren't able to get a room reservation. It was a peaceful
place on Lake Toxaway in North Carolina. When we told our destination to the shows
monitor engineer, Radar was excited.</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JywuhsY-ayg/W8-FxloZ1TI/AAAAAAAAIXw/OsLonYeS7z8v6OnQcB4CZPZYoyUTfU7xwCLcBGAs/s1600/02-P1040769-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1460" data-original-width="646" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JywuhsY-ayg/W8-FxloZ1TI/AAAAAAAAIXw/OsLonYeS7z8v6OnQcB4CZPZYoyUTfU7xwCLcBGAs/s320/02-P1040769-001.JPG" width="141" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">"RADAR"</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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He grew up in those mountains in NC. Actually,
his name is Cody, but he reminded me of the character Radar from the TV series
MASH. He was able to get everything done before anyone asked for the problem to
be resolved. I used that moniker for him whenever I talked to him. The other
smiling fact is that Radar and I celebrate our birthdays on the same day. He
was turning 21 and I was turning 13... well that's if you add the two numbers
of my age together, and then I'm the same age as Roger. We were both driving home during the break of the tour to
celebrate our birthdays on October 22nd.</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GifTNzlwrEs/W8-OdpKQNcI/AAAAAAAAIY8/sBKBkNdFY-8nujoGUeM_88AfPsOYN9STQCLcBGAs/s1600/0.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="806" data-original-width="453" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GifTNzlwrEs/W8-OdpKQNcI/AAAAAAAAIY8/sBKBkNdFY-8nujoGUeM_88AfPsOYN9STQCLcBGAs/s320/0.png" width="179" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Our path through Hurricane Michael .</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">We are</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">the blue dot.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Connie and I became the
roadies for our favorite guitar players. We even joked about making "The
Roadie Work Out Video." Lift that guitar, hold that door, drive that
van!" We are even politicking for a
badge to wear for driving through the constant rain remnants of hurricane
Michael and sleeping in a hotel without electricity that night.</div>
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I had booked hotels that
could accommodate the 8ft vertical clearance needed for our van and Connie
booked the same hotels. We don't drive after 5pm, so the routing took a little
work but it was worth it. We got to hotels, checked in, had cocktails and
dinner. Connie and I were treated to
two old friends telling funny stories about their Rock'n'Roll days and the
mischief they got into.</div>
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But there was something more
special we all talked about... our faith. We drove together, we ate together,
we drank together, we introduced them to our friends across the country but most
importantly, we prayed together.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It's 2:18 on October 22 and Roger
is driving on the Florida Turnpike as I sit in the back of the van. I had
finished my accounting for this leg of the tour and saw a blurb about my BLOG.
I read it and was horrified to realize that I have written very little since my
last birthday tour in 2017. Today is my birthday, again! I do apologize to my 13 readers. You have been
so patient and you are always encouraging me to write more. I don't know how
this year passed so quickly.<br />
<br /></div>
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I guess my tardiness verifies the old saying, "Time flies
when you're having a good time!"<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-d5jH767qZkQ/W8-Y9kbYu3I/AAAAAAAAIZg/oEKGO36akq8gc9GXHV039gbV0Kqm6J-vgCLcBGAs/s1600/4-P1040225.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-d5jH767qZkQ/W8-Y9kbYu3I/AAAAAAAAIZg/oEKGO36akq8gc9GXHV039gbV0Kqm6J-vgCLcBGAs/s400/4-P1040225.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Brothers!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-w1f6s1ZwRqQ/W8-YdCA7EgI/AAAAAAAAIZY/idBl5c_H95Q8UGLbnYhr-pN-52z4ISuXQCEwYBhgL/s1600/2-P1040176.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1076" data-original-width="1600" height="268" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-w1f6s1ZwRqQ/W8-YdCA7EgI/AAAAAAAAIZY/idBl5c_H95Q8UGLbnYhr-pN-52z4ISuXQCEwYBhgL/s400/2-P1040176.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">As iron sharpens iron, so man sharpens man.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"> Roger was so privileged to play with the amazing Marty Stuart!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Roger McGuinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00238284241360672020noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13356327.post-39098037534994557472018-07-18T19:39:00.000-05:002018-07-19T07:53:42.859-05:00Roadie Report 79 by Camilla McGuinn - "Sweet Memories" A Birthday Celebration<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sHJwqo97PhM/W0_OWp8kcMI/AAAAAAAAIOk/087z-bejxGM1Pin1zO83KaxNQBPki2_2wCLcBGAs/s1600/front%2Bcover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sHJwqo97PhM/W0_OWp8kcMI/AAAAAAAAIOk/087z-bejxGM1Pin1zO83KaxNQBPki2_2wCLcBGAs/s320/front%2Bcover.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 22pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: 20pt;">After 40 years, thinking
of a special birthday gift for the man I have so much fun living with is not
easy, but I do know him. One of his favorite things to do is to pack the van and drive the back roads of the USA. So, for his 76th birthday, I arranged for
us to hit the road and even better, release <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>his newest CD, "Sweet Memories."
Here are the stories behind the songs:</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 20.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">“Sweet Memories”<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 20.0pt;">Includes three BYRDS hits, eight
original songs and one fun 'Friday' song</span></i><span style="font-size: 20.0pt;">.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 20.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Sweet Memories” is the first rock-studio CD that Roger McGuinn
has recorded since 2004. It is the album fans have been asking for at Roger’s
concerts. They are continually asking for studio versions of the BYRDS
songs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So Roger re-recorded three BYRDS'
hits from scratch and they were so authentically performed that everyone asks,
“Did he use samples?” The answer is no! He played every instrument and sang
every vocal including harmonies on “Turn, Turn, Turn,” “Mr. Tambourine Man” and
“ So You Want To Be a Rock ‘n’ Roll Star.” There are also nine other songs
never recorded before.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 20.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 20.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Sweet Memories” is a trip down memory lane for Roger McGuinn.
It all begins when you open the package and see a letter he wrote to his family
in 1965 on the back of a publicity photo of his new group, the BYRDS. He
explained to his parents that their first song was written by Bob Dylan of
Peter, Paul and Mary fame. The publicity photo Roger wrote on the back of is
included in the collage of photos from Roger’s past on the opposite panel of
the CD package. Get out your magnifying glass and see if you can identify the friends
from a span of 60 years.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 20.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>There are 8 other songs that Roger and Camilla
have written over the years. This CD seemed the perfect time to record them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 20.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Chestnut Mare Christmas" - A continuation
of the "Chestnut Mare" story. They were reluctant to write a sequel
to that classic but the story continues with a tender message and Marty Stuart
playing a galloping guitar!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 20.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Grapes of Wrath”- The inspiration for
this song is the black and white 1940 Henry Fonda movie which the McGuinn’s
enjoy watching on a rainy day.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 20.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 20.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Sweet Memories”- Was written in the early 1980s
in Morro Bay, California. The late New York DJ, Pete Fornatale, always encouraged
Roger record it. The song was a favorite of Pete’s. To the McGuinns it wasn’t
finished yet. There were still the European trips to write about and the
wonderful train rides. Unfortunately, Pete passed on before it was recorded.
When thinking about the title for this CD, that song seemed so appropriate
because of all the memories on this disc.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 20.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Catching Rainbows” took years to write
and just as long to record. It didn’t fall into place until the beginning of
this CD. It too is a song about the McGuinn's adventures. The rainbow photo on
the back cover of the CD with the song list was taken by Camilla on an ocean
voyage.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 20.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It was “5:18” in the afternoon when the
McGuinns were sitting on their garden porch in Morro Bay, watching a storm rolling
onto the California coast. At that time, they never dreamed of leaving
California, but they did move a few years later. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 20.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“The Tears” was written by Camilla on an
airplane returning home to California after a long tour. She was thinking about
Edgar Allen Poe’s poem, “The Bells.” With a hotel scratch pad and pen, words
were scribbled about all the tears many have shed in the privacy of a closet. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 20.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Roger loves being on the ocean. “At The
Edge of The Water” was written by him during the morning dawn while sitting on
a ship’s balcony with his guitar.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 20.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Light Up The Darkness” was written in the
McGuinn’s small rented condo in Century City within a year of their marriage.
It was the beginning of a long beautiful relationship in life and work.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 20.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Friday” -</span><span style="font-size: 20.0pt;"> Roger recorded the song “Friday” because he and Camilla laughed so
hard watching the spoof <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>video on youtube
they couldn’t stay in their chairs.</span><span style="font-size: 20.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
</span><span style="font-size: 20.0pt;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q4KwBklNuSE" target="_blank"><span style="color: windowtext; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q4KwBklNuSE</span></a></span><span style="font-size: 20.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><span style="font-size: 20.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They even had to research the song to make
sure it wasn’t written by Bob Dylan. Roger emailed the creator of the video,
Nate Herman, and told him how much enjoyed his work and was thinking of
recording the song himself. Nate replied, “Life imitating art imitating life.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 20.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 26.6667px;">Roger's CDs can be purchased from https://store.cdbaby.com/Artist/RogerMcGuinn</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 26.6667px;">or if you're more comfortable with Amazon:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 26.6667px;">https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=Roger+mcGuinn+%22Sweet+Memories%22</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 20.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>We're relaxing in Flagstaff, AZ as I write
this BLOG. The van tires are rolling on the way to California to join Chris
Hillman, Marty Stuart and The Fabulous Superlatives for the Celebration of the
50th Anniversary of the "Sweetheart of the Rodeo."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 20.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Our day was spent exploring the
"Petrified Forest." Oh what a day!</span><span style="font-size: 20.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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The Local Resident</div>
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Roger McGuinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00238284241360672020noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13356327.post-61476379337953761852018-03-03T16:16:00.000-05:002018-03-04T13:17:53.343-05:00Roadie Report 78 by Camilla McGuinn- "A Hurricane, A Flood, A Friend, A Fire and A Victory!...Part 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6IskJfm9iIs/Wpr9VgQcZwI/AAAAAAAAIA0/KR21sU-_ltMqusmXOqS87r-8eMbig4QhQCLcBGAs/s1600/3-P1030187.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="626" data-original-width="1600" height="156" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6IskJfm9iIs/Wpr9VgQcZwI/AAAAAAAAIA0/KR21sU-_ltMqusmXOqS87r-8eMbig4QhQCLcBGAs/s400/3-P1030187.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We finished the
three remaining Southern California dates with a different sense of purpose.
Roger will always sing Tom Petty songs and tell the stories of meeting and
touring with Tom. He hopes people will laugh, smile and quietly remember a
truly gifted artist we were all blessed with for far too short a time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The audiences at the
Shannon Center at Whittier College, the Smother’s Theater at Pepperdine
University and the Poway Center in Poway were very responsive to the Tom
Petty’s songs and stories. Then it was time to head north to the Carriage House
Theater at Montalvo Arts Center.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We arrived in Los
Gatos the same time the smoke from the Napa fires reached the quaint town.
Everyone was in a state of disbelief. Watching the fires on TV, we saw the
entrance to the Napa neighborhood where we had once stayed at a friend’s house.
The houses were gone. A frantic call to Adriene brought some relief. She had
sold the house a few months before and was living in San Francisco. She was so
sad for the present owners.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Then we emailed Chris
and Connie Hillman to see how their son Nick was faring. He worked at a Napa
vineyard. He told Connie that the harvest was finished before the fires began, so
all was not lost.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">One more frantic
email needed to be sent. This email was to our friend Linda whose sister lives in
Napa. She told us that her sister and husband got out of their house in time with
just the clothes on their backs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> A few months later, the Hillmans managed to
get out of their house in Ventura before The Thomas fire burned through their
kitchen. Their house was the only one left standing on their street. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We’re praying a lot
of prayers of thankfulness for the lives which were not lost and for “Beauty
for Ashes” for those who have to rebuild and refurbish their memories.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Disasters seemed to
be following us but it was only the rain and smoke that affected us… to this
point. But I won’t leave you hanging now, I’ll give you a clue. The next
strange thing brought us smiles. Remember the title ends in a “Victory”. That’s
at the end of this story.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif; font-size: 16pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;"> Three days after
Montvalo, Roger was performing at the Taylor-Meade Performing Arts Center in
Forest Grove, Oregon.</span></div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MJa9kqivy7k/Woozrzvn8kI/AAAAAAAAH-k/gyzFUU90nvw2m_INLrk0gMYEVPjlt4H6ACLcBGAs/s1600/P1030111.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1515" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MJa9kqivy7k/Woozrzvn8kI/AAAAAAAAH-k/gyzFUU90nvw2m_INLrk0gMYEVPjlt4H6ACLcBGAs/s320/P1030111.JPG" width="303" /></a></div>
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-n3bpbAGU9IU/Woo0ONULk9I/AAAAAAAAH-4/pq25OpwtUX47nvikq2virSrfGDbHEKptwCLcBGAs/s1600/P1030086.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1029" data-original-width="1600" height="205" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-n3bpbAGU9IU/Woo0ONULk9I/AAAAAAAAH-4/pq25OpwtUX47nvikq2virSrfGDbHEKptwCLcBGAs/s320/P1030086.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif; font-size: 16pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;">The day after, we
were invited for the Harvest Lunch at the Cristom Vineyard near Salem in the
Willamette Valley wine region. I even got to be part of the grape harvest
process </span><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif; font-size: 16pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;">– I pulled a leaf out of the grape bin. Roger even caught the moment on video. I was so thrilled.</span></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxQpaK_6vvFLYXi6CBNAWUp3eGWMzBNI59vJLraf14lWbSvTGEg2UPm7uwuJ2QvctSnSeN0jA0rE6A' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WoodUqeJPqY/WoozmrDvM1I/AAAAAAAAH-c/vSX5QKn9piQiRRRuy5up5qejZHIL2chPwCLcBGAs/s1600/P1030092.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WoodUqeJPqY/WoozmrDvM1I/AAAAAAAAH-c/vSX5QKn9piQiRRRuy5up5qejZHIL2chPwCLcBGAs/s320/P1030092.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The owner was busy filling the oak barrels with
wine while we had lunch with the winemaker, Steve and his family, the CEO, our
old friend Steve Thomson and his wife Karen and the grape harvesters.</span><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-40jC4fLQRUw/Wpw0mTPyEFI/AAAAAAAAIB8/Mw9RJWXnSC0SH6392jC0q5d1jpkxZ48VgCLcBGAs/s1600/1-Cristom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-indent: 0.5in;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1014" data-original-width="1600" height="125" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-40jC4fLQRUw/Wpw0mTPyEFI/AAAAAAAAIB8/Mw9RJWXnSC0SH6392jC0q5d1jpkxZ48VgCLcBGAs/s200/1-Cristom.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook", serif; font-size: 16pt;"> I had a
dream of joining in a grape harvest in France but to experience that day in Oregon
was even better. I love that the Cristom grapes are allowed to ferment naturally
without any designer yeast. I found out a few years ago that I am very allergic
to designer yeast that many vineyards use to make sure they have a barrel that
tastes the same every time.</span></div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-U0KyR4CJiCc/Wpr90-GDd6I/AAAAAAAAIBA/GQ5zr81mYSInJWvRnQLm1b7OAogY8OrkACLcBGAs/s1600/6-P1030158.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-U0KyR4CJiCc/Wpr90-GDd6I/AAAAAAAAIBA/GQ5zr81mYSInJWvRnQLm1b7OAogY8OrkACLcBGAs/s320/6-P1030158.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A few unscheduled days before the next Kirkland,
Washington concert, sent me on a quest to find a special place to relax.</span><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif; font-size: 16pt;"> Just a
few miles from the Cristom Vineyard was the Allison Inn and Spa in Newberg. Strolling
and relaxing in the beautiful room and gardens of the Allison Inn added length
to our lives. A relaxed attitude lengthens a man’s life. I read that in the
Good Book.</span></div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cdDJSfuZiUo/Wpr-Rk0eWMI/AAAAAAAAIBM/tYheBhw9XscZuQTbnVx0l3-z0Z5gu3UTwCLcBGAs/s1600/5-P1030166.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1331" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cdDJSfuZiUo/Wpr-Rk0eWMI/AAAAAAAAIBM/tYheBhw9XscZuQTbnVx0l3-z0Z5gu3UTwCLcBGAs/s320/5-P1030166.JPG" width="266" /></a><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The Kirkland Performing Arts Center sold out
quickly to an enthusiastic audience. Heading south to San Francisco to
celebrate my birthday after all the good shows made the drive even more
enjoyable.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">San Francisco has always been a favorite city of
ours and I couldn’t think of a better place to spend my birthday. The Ritz Carlton
even had a special, 4 nights for the price of three. Now that was a great gift.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I told Roger that there were places we haven’t
explored in the city and since it was my birthday, we put on our walking shoes.
The first adventure was Alcatraz. I tweeted that I was taking Roger to prison.
We walked from the hotel to the harbor through crowded China town and caught
the ferry to the island. There was a very steep pathway up to the prison and I
wasn’t sure our knees would take it, but Roger insisted we persevere. The self
guided audio tour took about an hour and it was a very good history lesson.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> Back
in San Francisco we began the walk back up the steep hills to our hotel when I
gave up and called Uber. I was exhausted and couldn’t wait to get back into the
cool of the hotel lounge.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif; font-size: 16pt;"> Coit Tower was the next place I insisted we
visit. Yep, we walked the two miles up the steep San Francisco hills to the
tower. Fortunately when we finally made it to the entrance, there was an
elevator to take us to the top.</span></div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ydE_yXJ1gro/WoozKx4BE0I/AAAAAAAAH-M/tR54h8u88hkeBToT2MGLOhFVArTcQlpUACLcBGAs/s1600/P1030303.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ydE_yXJ1gro/WoozKx4BE0I/AAAAAAAAH-M/tR54h8u88hkeBToT2MGLOhFVArTcQlpUACLcBGAs/s320/P1030303.JPG" width="240" /></a><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JgmNduffbUk/Wpw06S0VB7I/AAAAAAAAICA/jnElynXIRr4Ks1u3GlT5rvWsqGFmLZKiACLcBGAs/s1600/P1030294.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-indent: 48px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JgmNduffbUk/Wpw06S0VB7I/AAAAAAAAICA/jnElynXIRr4Ks1u3GlT5rvWsqGFmLZKiACLcBGAs/s320/P1030294.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xt5JcYBFG9Q/WoozMXJlDuI/AAAAAAAAH-Q/BeFhqp5yvps8tL8bI3P_HwGYvAz_ZQehwCLcBGAs/s1600/P1030285.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xt5JcYBFG9Q/WoozMXJlDuI/AAAAAAAAH-Q/BeFhqp5yvps8tL8bI3P_HwGYvAz_ZQehwCLcBGAs/s320/P1030285.JPG" width="240" /></a><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif; font-size: 16pt;">At the top of the tower, Roger asked teasingly, “Now
Camilla, are there any other walks you want to go on for your birthday?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif; font-size: 16pt;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I quickly laughed, “Yes,
I want to walk back to the hotel.” I did try to order an Uber, but Roger was
having fun encouraging me to fulfill all my birthday fantasies. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> The
last hill was looming in front of us, when I saw the loading dock for the hotel
halfway up the hill. A man was taking a break at the entrance and I approached
him, “Is there an elevator that can take us to our room?” He smiled, “Follow
me.” As he was taking us to the service elevator, he gave us a tour of the
backstage area of the Ritz Carlton. We met the security officer, passed the
Human Resources office and walked through a maze of halls. We got on the
elevator and it stopped at the next floor. The concierge we had been talking to
earlier got on. She was shocked when she recognized us. “What are you doing
here?” “Oh, I was just applying for a job at the Human Resource office.” When
we got to the lounge she told me to sit and she would bring me some cold ice tea.
I think I probably looked like I had just climbed every hill in San Francisco.
Wow, my husband is 9 years older and he looked great! He had champagne.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">There was one more California date on the Central
California coast where we used to live, The Clark Center for The Performing
Arts in Arroyo Grande. The audience was filled with dear friends.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> California
Highway 58 was the road we chose to head east to Texas. The route took us on
the back roads of California. It was a beautiful, stress free drive. We had
five days to get to Houston for the concert we had re-scheduled. SO… it was
still my birthday tour and there was one place I have always wanted to visit –
Roswell, New Mexico, the home of the International UFO Museum. I took Roger to prison;
I might as well take him to meet Mr. Spaceman. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KlMeySKm-mw/Woo1tOMg1HI/AAAAAAAAH_c/VRc31aQ8QgQmn6xLJbyw76znzGZyBR4OwCLcBGAs/s1600/P1030349.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1163" data-original-width="1600" height="232" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KlMeySKm-mw/Woo1tOMg1HI/AAAAAAAAH_c/VRc31aQ8QgQmn6xLJbyw76znzGZyBR4OwCLcBGAs/s320/P1030349.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif; font-size: 16pt;">Roswell was a lot larger than I had imagined. It
is the fifth-largest city in New Mexico, population 49,000- about the size of a
Los Angeles suburb. A Hampton Inn and Red Lobster made it a perfect stopping
place. </span></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sWMH5VW1NCA/Woo12dkM57I/AAAAAAAAH_o/9bmbrwG4atoWIO5Zi4aPkZANgnxTOG5qQCLcBGAs/s1600/P1030343.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1180" data-original-width="1600" height="147" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sWMH5VW1NCA/Woo12dkM57I/AAAAAAAAH_o/9bmbrwG4atoWIO5Zi4aPkZANgnxTOG5qQCLcBGAs/s200/P1030343.JPG" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> The UFO museum was funny and enjoyable to walk
around but the real museum in Roswell is the Roswell Museum and Art Center
because it has the workshop of the father of rocket travel, Robert Goddard.
This museum is the real reason to go to Roswell. When the German scientists were
being interrogated after World War II, one scientist asked the interrogators “Why
are you asking me? Why didn’t you listen to Goddard? That’s where we learned everything about
rockets.” Roger has always been scientifically minded but I jumped over that
subject in school. This museum made me want to know more. We learned so much.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Now it was time to
head to the victory I talked about earlier. The Houston Astros had made it to
the World Series. The Los Angeles Dodgers were standing in the way of their victory.
I used to go to Dodger games, so I was a bit torn as to whom to root for, but
Houston needed something to celebrate after the floods. We were jumping on the
beds after Houston won. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We got to the
outskirts of Houston the day before Roger’s concert. I talked to a lady in the
hotel who had been living there since the floods had destroyed her house. She
wasn’t sad, she was exuberant! Her team had won the World Series and she was
going to the victory parade! What we didn’t realize was that there was going to
be a victory parade in downtown Houston on the day of Roger’s concert in downtown
Houston.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I checked the
schedule of the parade and tried to time our drive to the downtown venue to
avoid the crowds. I got that right, but after unloading our equipment, the parade
stopped and one million people were walking the streets. The roads to our hotel
were blocked off. After circling the streets, Roger got out of the van and
explained to the police officer, who was directing the flood of traffic, that
our hotel was right behind her, but the way was blocked. She opened the path.
At last we were at the hotel and needed to eat before the sound check. Well
thousands of folks wanted to celebrate and eat. This was another problem, but I
found a way to get us food and as we ate in our room, we felt like celebrating too.
We were a part of celebrating Houston’s victory!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> <b><i>Hey Mr. Spaceman!</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>HOUSTON WE HAVE.......</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>VICTORY!</b></span></div>
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<br />Roger McGuinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00238284241360672020noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13356327.post-47907489711128564982018-01-14T15:41:00.000-05:002018-02-18T21:08:43.827-05:00Roadie Report 77 by Camilla McGuinn- "A Hurricane, A Flood, A Friend, A Fire and A Victory!... Part 1<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QQkznw2xRDs/Wlu2GajW5PI/AAAAAAAAH6Y/7qBUYtJYm1Q21qEC-l9OM-YC54xk49Y2gCLcBGAs/s1600/P1020781.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1177" data-original-width="1600" height="235" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QQkznw2xRDs/Wlu2GajW5PI/AAAAAAAAH6Y/7qBUYtJYm1Q21qEC-l9OM-YC54xk49Y2gCLcBGAs/s320/P1020781.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> Hurricane Irma was moving up the coast of
Florida after leaving destruction in the Caribbean. The time was approaching
for us to hit the road for a two month concert tour and it looked like we were
about to join hurricane evacuation traffic again. We had experienced hurricane
evacuation traffic before because when concerts are booked we can't take the
chance of all the lovely trees in our neighborhood blocking our exit for days.
The idea of taking nine hours to get to the Georgia state line in bumper to
bumper traffic held no peace with us. We waited to leave until the day before
the wind was predicted to touch our
homestead. That decision is frowned upon by folks in the know but I noticed
that all the coverage of destruction from the recent storms had the highways
jammed for days.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> On September 9th, we loaded our equipment
in the van and began driving around 10:am. As we drove onto the Florida
Turnpike there wasn't a car or truck to be seen. It was the fastest drive
to Georgia ever. Several days before, I
had reserved a hotel room in Valdosta, Georgia. When I was checking in, the
desk attendant would answer the constantly ringing telephone with, " We
have no vacancies. Valdosta is booked for the night." The elevator to our room was filled with
people. I asked one man where he was from. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">"Orlando."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">"When did you get
here?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">"Yesterday. It took nine
hours."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I said a silent prayer of
gratitude.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> The next morning, we took the back roads
to Montgomery, Alabama. The local radio was reporting school closures. The
storm was right behind us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> We made it to Paducah Tuesday afternoon
listening to the weather warnings all the way north. We haven't stayed in
Paducah for years because we weren't very impressed the first time we stopped
there. The Tennessee and Ohio rivers have a tendency to flood at that junction.
The city erected a very high wall to keep the flood waters off the streets and
out of the houses.</span></div>
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</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LWQ6BWeGT-s/Wlu2rchlbmI/AAAAAAAAH6k/YdB0RRtj2BIc9vDp_el2R0QAznzU1Ss8gCEwYBhgL/s1600/P1020827.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1372" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LWQ6BWeGT-s/Wlu2rchlbmI/AAAAAAAAH6k/YdB0RRtj2BIc9vDp_el2R0QAznzU1Ss8gCEwYBhgL/s320/P1020827.JPG" width="274" /></a><br />
That seemed to take away some of the beauty but during this
stop we saw a town that was revitalized, quaint and a delight to walk around.
There was a new hotel downtown and lots of restaurants and antique stores. Our
early dinner at Shandies was prepared especially for us by the chef who stopped
by our table and asked us if there was anything we wanted. I wanted to combine
a few menu items and take away a few others.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VqBNjd1bdFs/Wlu2gxGGOrI/AAAAAAAAH6c/nzhagPGvVv0JfFkkbSLF1m9vXYiZtKjawCLcBGAs/s1600/P1020828.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1363" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VqBNjd1bdFs/Wlu2gxGGOrI/AAAAAAAAH6c/nzhagPGvVv0JfFkkbSLF1m9vXYiZtKjawCLcBGAs/s320/P1020828.JPG" width="272" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">
The chef knew exactly what to do.
Wow...Paducah had changed a lot in the ten years we had been passing by.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> We were taking our time getting to Minneapolis
because Hurricane Irma made us leave earlier than necessary. We arrived very
relaxed, though a bit concerned about our home. Our neighbors were in touch.
Even though the power was out for three days, Mia our 13 year old neighbor next
door, figured out that they could talk to us on the battery powered "Ring Doorbell." The only problem,
they rang the bell just when we were at a pit stop. I checked my phone video
and saw two young girls saying, "Hello, hello." It turned out the
other young girl was Mia's mother. I think that says I'm getting older... well
we were celebrating my 66th birthday on this tour.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vjfjJEE-PJU/Wlu3RWHqluI/AAAAAAAAH6w/kyjYrGR_wycPQkXjum4f3Mfag9zUSygGQCEwYBhgL/s1600/P1030052.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1354" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vjfjJEE-PJU/Wlu3RWHqluI/AAAAAAAAH6w/kyjYrGR_wycPQkXjum4f3Mfag9zUSygGQCEwYBhgL/s320/P1030052.JPG" width="270" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> The Pantages Theater in Minneapolis is
beautiful. Just the type of theater in which Roger loves to perform his one man
play. The next concert was at the beautiful Stefanie H. Weill Center for the
Performing Arts in Sheboygan WI. This theater is run by two staff members and a
whole town of wonderful volunteers. I loved hearing about their special events.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> We stayed at the historical, "The
American Club." This hotel was built by Walter J. Kohler in 1918 to house
the immigrant laborers who came to work at the Kohler Co. The garden was being
prepared for a wedding when we arrived. There is a museum next door but we
didn't have time to explore it. I'm definitely going to make time when we get
another chance. A museum of Kohler kitchen and powder rooms...of
okay...bathrooms. Thrones everywhere!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I love kitchens, cooking and
the thought of remodeling our bathroom.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> I was real excited about our next special
stop. We were staying in Natchitoches and they finally got a hotel downtown. As
the GPS was navigating us to our hotel address, Roger commented that he thought
Natchitoches was in Louisiana not Texas. My mouth dropped open. It is in Louisiana!
Where did I book our hotel?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> The Fredonia Hotel is in Nacogdoches, TX.
Well with the names spelling so close, anyone could make a mistake like that!
We arrived early enough to explore the town. As we were cooling off from the hot weather, the locals helped clear
up the mystery.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> Natchitoches and Nacogdoches were indigenous
American twin brothers. Their father pointed one east and the other west so
they wouldn't fight with each other. Two towns were born. That's their story
and they're sticking to it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> The Houston Theater was scheduled for
September 21st but the promoter agreed with me that a flooded town probably
wasn't in the mood for a concert, so we rescheduled it for November 3rd. It
would be on our way home from the two month west coast tour. There is more to
tell about that night in part two of this blog.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> Austin wasn't affected by the hurricanes,
so we headed to the Lady Bird Lake (formerly called Town Lake) hotel where we
could see folks gather in the evenings to watch the bats.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-O29zmfkB7qE/Wlu6PJumQkI/AAAAAAAAH68/j50wQ7vLkWQrqZsvjevtTUurWmPdVhGEACLcBGAs/s1600/P1020947.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1171" data-original-width="1600" height="234" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-O29zmfkB7qE/Wlu6PJumQkI/AAAAAAAAH68/j50wQ7vLkWQrqZsvjevtTUurWmPdVhGEACLcBGAs/s320/P1020947.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> One night of bat
watching ... then it was time for the Paramount Theater concert.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> There is a lovely drive from Austin to
Fredericksburg Texas where we always love to stop at the Hampton Inn &
Suites so we can walk to the Navajo Grill for dinner. I've written about this
before.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> Driving through Texas is fun! It is the
wild west and the speed limits go up to 85 miles an hour. Our Ford Transit conversion
van handles the curves and speeds like a sports car.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> We had a week before the next concert in
Aliso Viejo, CA and since this was my birthday tour, I booked a hotel I have
always wanted to stay in, The Ritz Carlton in Laguna Niguel. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_Innjj-5yYY/Woow3y0a-aI/AAAAAAAAH98/Z7o3o8uxk8M-OXgoUplF4ejwJYKOx_qsgCLcBGAs/s1600/P1030053.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="918" data-original-width="1600" height="183" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_Innjj-5yYY/Woow3y0a-aI/AAAAAAAAH98/Z7o3o8uxk8M-OXgoUplF4ejwJYKOx_qsgCLcBGAs/s320/P1030053.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">We had two days to
enjoy the views and our new friends Terry and Kevin. We met them over hor
d'oeuvres and became fast friends. They are even from a town I went to school
in, Cary, North Carolina. We had fun reminiscing about Ashworth's Drug store's
hotdogs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> We migrated to Aliso Viejo on the day of
the concert and were delighted with the enclave where our hotel was located. So
much so, we decided to spend another night there. Then we did something we
seldom do ... we went to a movie theater. Usually we avoid them because it was
invariable that someone behind us would be coughing and a cold for a singer can
be devastating. We saw "American Assassin". Very unrealistic but a
touch of the James Bond flavor, so a sequel must be coming.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> The Ruth B. Shannon Center for the
Performing Arts at Whittier College was our next concert venue. We checked into
the hotel the day before the concert. As I was checking my email, I gasped. A
friend was sending condolences about Tom Petty.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> We
didn't know what had happened, so we immediately began reaching out to people
who might know.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> It took awhile. The initial reports were
wrong. Tom had not died but he did a while later. We couldn't believe it. My
email was inundated with interview request wanting comments about Tom, but that
was the last thing Roger wanted to do. He wanted to reflect on the life of his
friend quietly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> Roger did want to talk to Chris Hillman.
Chris had just finished recording with Tom and was on the road. When we
connected with him, he was devastated and wanted to cancel his tour. Roger told
him that Tom would not have wanted him to cancel his tour but to go on stage as
a tribute to Tom. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> I reflected on sitting backstage at a table
with Tom during the Songwriters Hall of Fame ceremony. Tom had invited Roger to
induct him into the Hall of Fame and sing "American Girl" for the
ceremony. Tom and I talked about some of the silly fads going around but when
he talked about his granddaughter, Everly, his eyes lit up. I was so sad to
think that Everly would never get to fully experience the depth of his love for her. I was
also sad thinking about Dana, Adria, Kim and all the people who were very
important parts of the vast Petty machine. There is a great empty hole in the
universe now and in our hearts.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_bbuYqFNGl8/Wlu9JA9PoDI/AAAAAAAAH7I/yQNBn2Du1N0fcp2z6B_9IPfUdAM7pENSACLcBGAs/s1600/P1010716.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1544" data-original-width="1600" height="308" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_bbuYqFNGl8/Wlu9JA9PoDI/AAAAAAAAH7I/yQNBn2Du1N0fcp2z6B_9IPfUdAM7pENSACLcBGAs/s320/P1010716.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> Roger has often had a segment in his
concerts with a Tom Petty set. It includes stories and songs of their first
meetings and touring together. From now on those songs and stories will always
be in Roger's concerts. He will always celebrate the life and music of his dear
friend.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">To be continued.....</span><span style="font-size: 20pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Roger McGuinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00238284241360672020noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13356327.post-80726723684472708032017-10-03T13:30:00.000-05:002017-10-03T13:30:51.950-05:00Farewell My Friend by Roger McGuinn<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dIALzN5N4fo/WdPRzqW39pI/AAAAAAAAHxk/wfHLhSrP69ssV3eJEsSAuoDNOowmOw4eQCLcBGAs/s1600/P1010749.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1497" data-original-width="1600" height="299" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dIALzN5N4fo/WdPRzqW39pI/AAAAAAAAHxk/wfHLhSrP69ssV3eJEsSAuoDNOowmOw4eQCLcBGAs/s320/P1010749.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My last night playing with Tom. June 2016 NYC</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16pt;">Before
there were books, music recorded our history.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">Tom
Petty was a historian. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">He
didn't just write songs. He wrote about the stories, people, and cultures
of our times and then he put it all to music.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">When
he wrote a song, he flew up to the great wide open, caught an idea and would come free falling back to earth. Then he did it again. I know, I had the privilege of writing with him once.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">His songs are movies for our imaginations and longer</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16pt;"> than 4 words. H</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16pt;">is every verse a diamond</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16pt;"> and every chorus gold.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 21.3333px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 21.3333px;">His music will always be with me and all of us.</span></span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;"></span></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XwWUgG938O0/WdPR2pcICyI/AAAAAAAAHxo/2b6EsFyvxC41awBpviIwrZ45-wyAUNF_gCLcBGAs/s1600/P1010835.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XwWUgG938O0/WdPR2pcICyI/AAAAAAAAHxo/2b6EsFyvxC41awBpviIwrZ45-wyAUNF_gCLcBGAs/s320/P1010835.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The guitar strap I'm wearing is the one Tom gave me. He wore it in the "Free Fallin'" video.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vHEktwhrJxQ/WdPSBjd7HXI/AAAAAAAAHxw/7IUdF8dGB04JMQUmVpWIR4_vI_fNhB1mACLcBGAs/s1600/P1010714.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="891" data-original-width="1600" height="178" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vHEktwhrJxQ/WdPSBjd7HXI/AAAAAAAAHxw/7IUdF8dGB04JMQUmVpWIR4_vI_fNhB1mACLcBGAs/s320/P1010714.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rehearsal Backstage NYC June 2016</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<o:p></o:p>Roger McGuinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00238284241360672020noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13356327.post-72280864771273718552017-07-30T06:55:00.000-05:002017-08-03T08:58:06.626-05:00Roadie Report 76 by Camilla McGuinn - 75 Years - His Gentle Walk of Faith<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zJOqJlejhJA/WX3FKVIdYWI/AAAAAAAAHrg/nhD-k62kWbgv2Pq0jQSGYrNEYtmDvX-3ACLcBGAs/s1600/P1020765.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zJOqJlejhJA/WX3FKVIdYWI/AAAAAAAAHrg/nhD-k62kWbgv2Pq0jQSGYrNEYtmDvX-3ACLcBGAs/s320/P1020765.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">July 24, 2017 at the WoodSongs taping.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Almost 40 years ago my
life changed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">On New Year’s Day
1978, I woke up in Puerto Vallarta on the Wind Rose, my brother’s trimaran. We
had been sailing from San Diego and were planning on continuing for months.
But, it was time for me to go back to Los Angeles. There was no credit card or
airline ticket in my pocket, but I was on a mission. I was going home. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">It was a little strange to be drawn to "home." I didn't have a home. I had recently left a two year relationship and quit my job at Playboy. I was either going to succeed in acting or starve. It was the kindness of others and their vacant guest rooms that put a roof over my head and the occasional dinner with friends that fed me.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">My brother rowed me to
shore. There was a hotel at the dock and a mother and daughter waiting for a
taxi. I asked them if I could pay for half the ride to the airport but the
mother said to just get it, it was on her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">At the airport, I
walked up to an airline desk, smiled and asked if there were any seats
available to Los Angeles. The desk attendant looked at me like I was nuts. This
was New Year’s Day and everyone was trying to go home, but he sighed and began
typing. All of a sudden, he shook his head, “A seat just opened on the next
flight and it is a window seat.” I gave him some of the remaining cash I had. That
seat was mine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">The plane circled Los
Angeles and the layer of smog was the same brown it had been when I left it
over a month ago, but something was different. I kept thinking, “My life is
about to change.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">A series of events
took me to an acting class where Roger was beginning the same night. I did
write about the meeting in a previous blog, but I didn’t write about the life
changing moment. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">We were assigned to do
a scene together. Part of the motivation was that he had to convince me of
something I didn’t want. The night of the exercise, two chairs were put center
stage. Roger pulled out his guitar and began playing. That did bug me. How was
I supposed to compete with a musician? Pets, children and musicians are the
definitive way to have a scene stolen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">He stopped playing,
looked at me and asked if I would like to learn how to play the guitar. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">“ Sure.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Okay, but you have to
cut your finger nails on your left hand.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">“No problem.” I was
smiling at myself. This was not going to get me upset. I wasn’t a girly-girl
and finger nails were not important to me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Then he pulled out his
Swiss Army knife and began cutting my fingernails. I’m still secretly smiling.
No reaction from me. He was losing this exercise.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">He showed me a couple
of chords and I awkwardly played them. Then he took the guitar back and said,
“Let me play you a song.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">He began playing and
singing a song the Byrds had recorded on “The Sweetheart of the Rodeo” album in
1968. When he finished the song he asked me if I liked it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Not particularly.
It’s too country for me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Well, what did you think
of the words?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Then it hit me! The
song was “I like the Christian Life.” He was going to try to tell me about
Jesus on stage in front of the acting class!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">“How long have you
been into Jesus?” I demanded with a very terse tone in my voice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">“A couple of months.”
He quietly replied.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Well give it a few
more months and you will get over it.” Then I stood up and left the stage and
stood seething in the back of the workshop as the students in the acting class
all broke out into applause and said:
“Wow that was great! It was like a scene from Tennessee Williams.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">That was the beginning
of the change. A week later I suggested we go to the Los Angeles County Museum
of Art to work on our scene. I was stuck with this long hair musician. One of the few rules I had in my life was not to date musicians, but I had to find a way to
work with him. Little did I know that the first room we walked into was an
exhibition of the Crucifixion of Jesus. My attitude was less than humble, but
after studying the first three paintings I had an epiphany about my life. I had
given up on love. Love was someone else’s fantasy, but all of a sudden I realized
that I didn’t have the author of love in my life. I didn’t even want to hear
His name for the past ten years. A verse I had learned as a child kept looping through my head:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">“For God so loved the
world that He gave His only begotten son and whosoever believes in Him shall
not perish but have everlasting life.” John 3:16<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">I hit the side of my
head, hoping to knock those words out of my mind, but as I looked at the
painting, I realized it was time for this prodigal child to go back to the love
of Jesus. I had a strong feeling that if I didn't do it then, I was going to be in big trouble in the world on my own. By the time I walked out of the museum that day, I told God that I
would go anywhere, do anything if I could know Him better. That day I understood
what it was to be born again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">The story has more
facets including how Roger told me about the shipwreck of his life during the
early rock and roll years. Maybe someday I will write about what happened next with
both of us, but for now, let’s just say through divine intervention Roger and I
were married within two months. I was happy I didn’t have to become a nun since I was
imagining that as the only way I could get to know God.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">A few weeks after we
were married, Roger’s new accountant called us to set up a meeting. For years
Roger had trusted a gaggle of people to handle his affairs. Years of touring
with a band on his credit cards finally caught up. He was on the verge of
bankruptcy. It was time to get a bankrupt attorney and set the wheels in motion
before someone else did.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">In the mean time God
took this Roman Catholic boy and Southern Baptist girl and set them in a Pentecostal
Church, The Church on the Way in Van Nuys. The Wednesday before the Monday
bankruptcy filing we were at the church listening to Jack Hayford open the mysteries
of the Bible for us. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">After the teaching,
Roger looked at me and said with a tone of urgency in his voice, “We haven’t
prayed about the bankruptcy.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">We walked into a small
room where people went to go for prayer and approached an elderly gentleman
named Lee. Roger told him we were going bankrupt on Monday. Lee smiled, shook
his head and said, “That’s not God’s way. Your Father owns all the cattle on
all the hills. Let’s pray.” He took Roger’s hand, and then looked at him
intently. “I sense a need for repentance. Something about being un-equally
yoked.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Roger broke into a
sweat. After filing for bankruptcy, he was going to sign a contract with
Capitol Records for the group McGuinn, Clark and Hillman.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Lee continued, “There
might be some gratification in that union but not a lot. How much money do you
need to hold back the creditors?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">“About twenty-five
thousand.” Roger whispered not really knowing how to answer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">“No. We need at least
fifty thousand.” I interjected. Bookkeeping was one of my gifts.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">We prayed with Lee and
the next day Roger called the accountant and said there would be no bankruptcy
filing. The attorney sent us a letter stating that he understood that we were
going to try to pay everyone back and he hoped our faith would get us through
it, but the creditors would bankrupt us anyway. Another attorney who was
handling some of the lawsuits that were daily delivered at our door, stated blatantly that Roger didn’t have a pot to
even pee in.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Well things happened.
A few gigs for a good amount of money and the advance from the record company kept
the creditors at bay. Payment schedules were worked out. It took over two
years, but it was all paid back.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">In the meantime
McGuinn, Clark and Hillman was a train about to wreck. Gene Clark once again
could not handle success, so his habits went into excess. He even forgot to
show up for concerts. Roger and Chris had to fire him to keep the promoters from
suing them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Chris was having some
trouble with his anger management and decked a Capitol records executive back
stage at the Bottom Line. On the plane back to California Roger told him it was
time to end the relationship. Capitol released the group and told them that
they would not be sued for the altercation if they left quietly. The good news is that Chris is now a happy person with everything under control.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">It was now time for
Roger to pursue his dream of being an entertainer like his hero, Pete Seeger.
Pete could captivate audiences with his stories and songs. All Roger had to do
was to figure out how to tell stories; he knew the songs to sing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">The reason for
this particular blog is to write about that man I married almost 40 years ago, his gentle walk of faith and to celebrate his 75<sup>th</sup> birthday. Here is another one of his stories.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;"> In 1982 we lived in Morro Bay, CA. We ran out
of money and there was no work on the horizon. I would walk a mile down
the hill to the post office everyday hoping there was a royalty check from some
unknown source.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">On that Wednesday my
walk back was a bleak one. There was no money in the mail and our $400 rent
check was due on Monday. I was figuring we could live in our van but I didn’t
even think about paying that monthly payment or even the monthly payment for
child support. We were about to be homeless.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">When I got home, Roger
was sitting on the couch in the sunroom smiling and gazing at the distant view
of the ocean and the garden. I sat down next to him with a deep sigh. Quietly I
said, “There was no money at the post office.”</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">He joyfully told me,
“Look at that bush right in front of the window in the garden. A few minutes
ago it was filled with little red berries. As I was praying, a flock of birds
swept down from the sky and ate them all! God had prepared those berries for
the birds to eat just at the right time. If He cares for the birds and feeds
them, He will care for us and feed us! Don’t worry it’s going to be alright,
just at the right time.”</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8BT64DsKDqY/WX3Fo71GIiI/AAAAAAAAHrk/dhKrGblMyGQkEj2wSi8HZDd4OEhh4-fPwCLcBGAs/s1600/berries.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="166" data-original-width="221" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8BT64DsKDqY/WX3Fo71GIiI/AAAAAAAAHrk/dhKrGblMyGQkEj2wSi8HZDd4OEhh4-fPwCLcBGAs/s320/berries.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">My weak smile
reflected my voice, “I hope so.” I certainly wasn’t a tower of faith, but
Roger’s faith was covering both of us.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">The next day, the
phone rang. The voice of our long time friend David, the owner of a business on
Pico Blvd he called Rent-A-Wreck, was excited. A lady had walked in his shop to
rent a car for a day. As she filled out the form David noticed she was the
manager of the McCabe’s Guitar shop which had a back room where she promoted
intimate concerts. David asked her if she knew Roger McGuinn.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Roger McGuinn!” she
exclaimed. “I’ve been trying to find him!”</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">David called us and
gave her the phone. She introduced herself and said she wanted to have Roger
play at the McCabes concert room. If we said yes, she would FEDEX the deposit
today.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">The deposit was enough
to pay the rent and a little left over. The balance would finish paying all of
our monthly obligations.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">From that day forward,
our life turned around. It wasn’t quick. When the children of Israel entered
the Promise Land, God didn’t give it to them all at once because they wouldn’t
be able to handle it. So it was with us. That was over 35 years ago. We slowly
progressed in understanding our finances, our work and even moving across the
nation to the place God wanted us to be.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">We often smile at each
other and say, ‘You’re my second best friend.” Jesus is our first. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">P.S.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Before we celebrated
Roger’s 75<sup>th</sup> birthday, we drove to Miami and helped Sophie and Michele
celebrate the one they love his birthday, Dave Barry’s, 70<sup>th</sup>
birthday. It was fun to see some of the Rock Bottom Remainders, Sam Barry, Mitch and Janine Albom and Scott Turow. The jam session was a great way to celebrate a friends birthday.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VEYOqxkXSt8/WX3F6d44SuI/AAAAAAAAHro/ggZP24VwdYANc5UrIn7KKO8yXPrar4eXwCLcBGAs/s1600/P1020568.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="687" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VEYOqxkXSt8/WX3F6d44SuI/AAAAAAAAHro/ggZP24VwdYANc5UrIn7KKO8yXPrar4eXwCLcBGAs/s320/P1020568.JPG" width="274" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">P.S.S<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #000099; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt;">I did convince Roger
to actually celebrate his birthday. He doesn’t like to make a big deal of
anything, but I insisted he tell me what he loves to do. His reply “Be on the
ocean.” This lover of sea chanteys wanted to be on the sea. I found a wonderful
voyage and we celebrated the best birthday ever.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vIztQxjwOQ8/WX3GKbLLjzI/AAAAAAAAHrs/0us2dLG-quoEyfzNZa439PMPaMCqQbvfACLcBGAs/s1600/P1020242.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vIztQxjwOQ8/WX3GKbLLjzI/AAAAAAAAHrs/0us2dLG-quoEyfzNZa439PMPaMCqQbvfACLcBGAs/s320/P1020242.JPG" width="288" /></a></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5VF_Kaev8n8/WX3GTRkRsEI/AAAAAAAAHrw/DEglNjY8WS0ICAMI1OEhjKvY3NbApRdngCLcBGAs/s1600/P1020607.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="225" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5VF_Kaev8n8/WX3GTRkRsEI/AAAAAAAAHrw/DEglNjY8WS0ICAMI1OEhjKvY3NbApRdngCLcBGAs/s400/P1020607.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">San Juan Puerto Rico July 2017</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Z8v39eGaphQ/WX3GVU-wHbI/AAAAAAAAHr0/nU77fhJXmNcO2a6qpjurUspylKyAwVfmACLcBGAs/s1600/P1020677.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="690" data-original-width="800" height="276" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Z8v39eGaphQ/WX3GVU-wHbI/AAAAAAAAHr0/nU77fhJXmNcO2a6qpjurUspylKyAwVfmACLcBGAs/s320/P1020677.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Besides being on stage, his next favorite place to be - on the sea.</td></tr>
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Roger McGuinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00238284241360672020noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13356327.post-20065167282599344972017-05-27T16:01:00.001-05:002017-06-07T09:42:18.778-05:00Roadie Report 75 by Camilla McGuinn - I Have a Purple Heart<div class="MsoNormal">
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3ftX4086BX4/WTgQePV88tI/AAAAAAAAHoE/vIgyE0cfhaACeq0k97nSumBsLAFZN144wCLcB/s1600/USA_Flag.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1325" data-original-width="1600" height="265" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3ftX4086BX4/WTgQePV88tI/AAAAAAAAHoE/vIgyE0cfhaACeq0k97nSumBsLAFZN144wCLcB/s320/USA_Flag.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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"Camilla, why haven't you written the blog
lately?"</div>
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I didn't know how to
answer Roger. We have been on some wonderful adventures thanks to his long
career in music, but something was stopping me from writing about them. I
wasn't sure that our adventures would be of interest or maybe just sound so frivolous
in light of the turmoil in the world. Maybe I just had the "writer's
block" that I've heard about. Not that I can call myself a writer. I know lots of them, and they all talk differently. Well I'm sitting here now and very
interested in what comes on the screen from my fingers. There is a reason I'm here today, but I will get to that later.</div>
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The spring of 2016 was filled with concerts in the northeast.
We have a rule about not driving north of Interstate 40 between November 1st and April 1st. I have driven in enough snow
storms to last me for the rest of my life but our rule didn't pan out. Our trip
to Woodstock, VT was dusted with snow. It wouldn't have been so bad except the
GPS decided the shortest way over the mountain was the best, the cell phones
lost signals and the road got narrow. We decided something was wrong, so we
slowly backed up, got on a larger road and hoped it would lead us to Woodstock. I
think I will carry a paper map with me from now on and maybe change our travel rule
to begin on May 1st. </div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Xm1Are4ZyX0/WSnc8AuM06I/AAAAAAAAHkk/5uqTNzvzmwY8lAO1SYaHEAtBwQvH0cxzwCLcB/s1600/Summer_Vacation.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1161" data-original-width="1600" height="145" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Xm1Are4ZyX0/WSnc8AuM06I/AAAAAAAAHkk/5uqTNzvzmwY8lAO1SYaHEAtBwQvH0cxzwCLcB/s200/Summer_Vacation.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roger and Jakob Dylan</td></tr>
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While we were in the North we stopped in NYC to record a video with Jakob Dylan for a project he has been working on. Roger is always surprised at how the children of his friends have grown into adults. We're still surprised by his adult sons. </div>
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<span style="text-align: center;">My favorite tours are when we see people we know. In June we
flew to NYC to see Tom Petty inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame. Roger
was honored to be picked by Tom to deliver the induction speech. We were told
that it shouldn't be longer than 90 seconds. The first words Roger said after
he had sung "American Girl" was, "Not everyone got that
message." It was a long night.</span></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jNeVuR3ElEk/WSnXuE2Q40I/AAAAAAAAHkI/uYtXGLsG98wP2IxxUq06l0OPIYei3wBwACLcB/s1600/Elvis_Diana_RM.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jNeVuR3ElEk/WSnXuE2Q40I/AAAAAAAAHkI/uYtXGLsG98wP2IxxUq06l0OPIYei3wBwACLcB/s320/Elvis_Diana_RM.JPG" width="320" /></a>We were also happy to see another friend that night, Elvis
Costello. He was being inducted too and we finally got to meet his lovely wife,
Diana Krall. Elvis always makes me smile with his genuine enthusiasms about
everything.</div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YMUHRZJJUhY/WSnYLTBiojI/AAAAAAAAHkU/z9n1JdLR028unl2DaJkNQ29QREaJytQBgCLcB/s1600/P1010745.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1580" data-original-width="1600" height="315" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YMUHRZJJUhY/WSnYLTBiojI/AAAAAAAAHkU/z9n1JdLR028unl2DaJkNQ29QREaJytQBgCLcB/s320/P1010745.JPG" width="320" /></a>Tom invited Roger to join Mudcrutch for two concerts in the
city after the ceremony, so we had a few days to explore. Our hotel was in the
theater district, so I thought it would be fun to explore the "old New
York" scenes. We quickly found Sardi's and made friends with two
bartenders, Joe, who has been there over thirty years and Jeremy. Jeremy told
us that he was going to Tom Petty's concert the next night. We laughed, not
sure if he knew Roger but over the next couple of months, he got to know us
well. The upper bar in Sardi's is a place I now recommend to our friends when
they travel to the city. Walk into Sardi's, turn right, walk up the stairs then turn around to find the bar. Say hi to Joe and Jeremy from us.</div>
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The month of July was spent enjoying our home. That is a
treat we seldom get and we weren't even sure we would like it, but it was fun!
Walking every morning to Trader Joe's to buy dinner supplies, then coming home
and jumping in the pool to cool off. </div>
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Buzz Aldren held the Share Space Foundation's Apollo 11
Anniversary Gala at the Kennedy Space Center on July 22 and we happily
attended. Spacemen are a favorite of ours. A special guest was George Takei, Mr. Sulu from Star Trek. Roger was
lecturing on the Queen Mary 2 on one of the transatlantic voyages the same time
George was. We have all found a wonderful way to get to and from Europe.</div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ijk041zOUvU/WSnYZcqaP-I/AAAAAAAAHkY/uuxU0v5J4MARe0B8cJWJcCRjqYBMzNaZQCLcB/s1600/P1010877.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ijk041zOUvU/WSnYZcqaP-I/AAAAAAAAHkY/uuxU0v5J4MARe0B8cJWJcCRjqYBMzNaZQCLcB/s200/P1010877.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>
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In September we hit the road with our unusual summer tans for
concerts in the Midwest. After the Green Bay, WI show, we stopped in Oshkosh
before the show in Waupun. The hotel was next to a family run restaurant. What
we didn't realize was that everyone who walked into the bar became part of the
family. By the end of our dinner, we were all joking with each other on a first
name basis. I was a major source of laughter when I tried to pronounce Waupun,
our next concert city. I don't think I ever got it right.<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-G2BrSyySOIs/WSnXjK7fdQI/AAAAAAAAHkE/VSegpiMgaTA2QMdLOrf6ZCVXqeGW2PmZQCLcB/s1600/Charcoal_Pit.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="803" data-original-width="1195" height="134" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-G2BrSyySOIs/WSnXjK7fdQI/AAAAAAAAHkE/VSegpiMgaTA2QMdLOrf6ZCVXqeGW2PmZQCLcB/s200/Charcoal_Pit.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
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The tour took us back across the country to New Jersey where
we had time to stay at one of our favorite hotels, The Sheraton, Lincoln
Harbor. Two fun days were filled with riding the ferry to NYC, exploring old
landmarks, stopping at Sardi's to invite Jeremy to the Bergen Performing Arts
Center show and introducing Patrick,
Roger's son, to the Sardi's experience. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sardi's decorated for Christmas</td></tr>
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On Thanksgiving Day, we arrived in NYC on Amtrak's, Silver
Meteor. The train pulled into Penn Station shortly after the Macy's parade had
ended. We were amazed how easy it was to get a taxi. Roger was scheduled to
give two lectures on the Queen Mary 2 for the voyage to the Caribbean. Before
we boarded the beautiful ship, we had a day to find our Thanksgiving feast.
Well, that's not a good idea on Thanksgiving Day in NYC. All the restaurants
are on a fixed menu and the reservations are booked. I'm not a big fan of a plate
of turkey with the "fixins" but I had an idea. Juniors, a famous
deli, was just across the street. I told Roger to chill the champagne and I
would get us dinner. Those turkey sandwiches and the bottle of gifted Champagne
from friends was one of my favorite traveling Thanksgiving Days. My favorite
Thanksgivings are when we have time to invite 30 friends to come to our home
and cook and cook for three days.</div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tRt3gkeKVMw/WSndLzuoaRI/AAAAAAAAHko/QQu1FtFibIoW51uukK2NBEK-0iJExj3aACLcB/s1600/P1010998.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1375" height="200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tRt3gkeKVMw/WSndLzuoaRI/AAAAAAAAHko/QQu1FtFibIoW51uukK2NBEK-0iJExj3aACLcB/s200/P1010998.JPG" width="171" /></a>After the voyage, we were sitting in the airport waiting to
board the plane back to Orlando.</div>
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Sitting next to Roger was a man from St. Thomas. We had been
there years ago looking for Creeque Alley from the Mama and Papas song. Roger
mentioned our search to him and he told us that his last name was Crequee and
the alley had been named after his family. He also corrected us on how to say
the name. It's not pronounced "creek alley" it is pronounced "creekee alley." How can
we ever understand our steps? I'm always in awe.</div>
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Well I've finished the highlights of 2016 and there is a
funny story coming about our trip to Hong Kong in March of 2017, but the real
reason I wanted to write today was because last night I realized it was
Memorial Day Weekend.</div>
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Roger and I don't have cable. Our television watching
consist of a lot of PBS that is broadcast over the air. After dinner we began
watching a show about Alaskan Natives
who served in Viet Nam. Then there was another show about the Doolittle Raids
over Japan during World War 2. </div>
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I watched the shows with tears in my eyes because there is a chest in my room that protects a "Purple Heart." My father received
it after he was shot in Viet Nam.</div>
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Aaron was 17 when he ran away from the orphanage, lied to
the recruiting officer about his age and joined the Navy. He was sent to the Pacific
to fight the Japanese on board a destroyer as a hospital corpsman. One of his
older brothers couldn't get into the Navy because of an eye problem, but the
Army took him and sent him to Europe as a gunner on a tank and that's where he
lies.</div>
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After the war Aaron went back to the orphanage for a reunion
and that's where he met Minnie. They were married and had a son who they named after Aaron's army brother.</div>
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Aaron stayed in the
Navy and when the Korean war broke out, he was sent to Korea. It was his second
war.</div>
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In 1969, I graduated from high school, my brother and I both
went to college and daddy went to Viet Nam. This wasn't like the other tour of
duties. He was stationed on the front lines with the First Marine Division. He
was the senior corpsman and was responsible for sending out the young corpsman
with the patrols . I met him in Hawaii for his R&R with my mother. He
walked slowly off the plane and looked 30 years older. My mother figured he
wouldn't want to stay on the military base and she was right in finding a small hotel
for us. The first thing he said, "Let's get off this base." We were
together for a short time, then he sadly boarded the plane back to Viet Nam.</div>
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The next time I saw him was in the hospital in Norfolk, VA.
He had been shot by snipers in the leg, but the alarm that shocked the doctors enough to send him to Alaska was his blood
pressure. They had to evacuate him. He spent his twilight tour, the last
station of service before retirement, in Norfolk. He retired from the Navy with
30 years of service and three wars. He was 47 years old. </div>
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After the retirement dinner, he went to work for DuPont in
Richmond, VA as a health officer. He died quickly one night of a stroke. He was
52 years old.</div>
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Memorial Day is a day that should be remembered. It's not
the wars we remember, it is the people, all the people who sacrificed and
suffered. The warriors and the innocents. Roger and I have visited Viet Nam twice. I wasn't sure I wanted to go
there, but I'm glad I did. The people are so precious, the country is
beautiful. The elders don't talk about the American War. But we will remember!</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Navy Corpsman Spaul<br />
World War 2</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">HMCS Spaul<br />
Viet Nam<br />
A photo he sent to me. He never wanted me to worry.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">CHIEF SPAUL<br />
Just before going to Viet Nam</td></tr>
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<br />Roger McGuinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00238284241360672020noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13356327.post-48218311415756596892016-07-12T12:45:00.001-05:002016-07-16T10:28:55.716-05:00Roadie Report 74 by Camilla McGuinn - 2015 A Time For Old Friends & 2016 A New CD<div class="MsoNormal">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Bw79xFtGZ74/V4UaV6wYrwI/AAAAAAAAHPI/fLxFkESFQ5olrvqeKIVjcdhQieOw7EVzQCLcB/s1600/Front_Cover.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="253" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Bw79xFtGZ74/V4UaV6wYrwI/AAAAAAAAHPI/fLxFkESFQ5olrvqeKIVjcdhQieOw7EVzQCLcB/s320/Front_Cover.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Folk Den Project - Twentieth Anniversary Edition</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> It is the middle of July 2016 and I'm just now thinking about the sweet memories of the second half 2015. In fact I have to go back to my calendar to see what we did.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> In the early part of the year, we were touring on the highways of the USA. I had the opportunity to visit with the family of one of my dearest friends who died suddenly just after Roger and I were married. Her mother and brothers came to a concert and I spent all the time I could with them telling them stories about the escapades that Annie I took in the early 70s.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> In August we escaped the heat of Florida for the unusual heat of Hawaii for a tour of four of the islands. Our first stop was in Kauai and it was the beginning of visiting with friends from the past.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> The first day in Kauai, we got a call from Richard, Tom Petty’s road manager, inviting us to dinner at Al’s house, Bob Dylan’s production manager. Roger had enjoyed touring with both of them on the “Temples in Flames Tour” in 1987. He often tells the story of how he was invited on that Dylan/Petty tour in his concerts.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> It was a delightful reunion but what I found even more fun was meeting their families. When touring with an artist, the road crew is always focused on the artist. I didn’t even know Richard and Al were married, but married they are - to beautiful women. Al’s teenage daughter reflected the beauty of her mother. The evening in the cool breeze of the island mountain was like visiting favorite relatives.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> I was sitting next to Richard and confessed to him that before each tour I always ask myself if I remember how to be a road manager. He confessed he does too, but I think his answer was a sweet way to make me feel comfortable. They all came to Roger’s concert the next night. I was really more anxious about forgetting something important because these pros were going to be in the audience. When I finally finished my duties and went to the dressing room they were all there continuing with the good feelings we’d had the night before.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> As I mentioned earlier it was unusually hot in Hawaii! The time in Oahu wasn’t so uncomfortable because the hotel had air conditioning and so did the restaurants, but when we got to the house I found on the Big Island, air conditioning wasn’t to be found anywhere.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4Bd7rkCHoow/V4UnLqIpidI/AAAAAAAAHQA/3O04eQlK_Ng1XJIaEhM3e2oNyALUGcm2gCLcB/s1600/P1010047.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4Bd7rkCHoow/V4UnLqIpidI/AAAAAAAAHQA/3O04eQlK_Ng1XJIaEhM3e2oNyALUGcm2gCLcB/s320/P1010047.JPG" width="274" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"> The house was beautifully situated on a cliff overlooking the ocean. It had a wonderful kitchen and a washer and dryer. Three days of cooking and eating romantic meals while looking at the view seemed like heaven. We were told that air conditioning wouldn’t be necessary because of the ocean breezes. We lived for years on the beach in Florida with just ocean breezes, so I didn’t think it would be a problem. Well, it was very hot and even the two theaters Roger performed in were hot! No air conditioning. Roger was the consummate pro sitting under the stage lights in the heat but he was a bit wet after each show. I was so completely soaked after one sound check that I had to change to a venue t-shirt. Now I had a nice souvenir to take home.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cNPDtjD8wr4/V4UgF60NTeI/AAAAAAAAHPc/KXoac1ecfkoc21Fux-W8osmdcubPYFQkQCLcB/s1600/P1010104.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cNPDtjD8wr4/V4UgF60NTeI/AAAAAAAAHPc/KXoac1ecfkoc21Fux-W8osmdcubPYFQkQCLcB/s320/P1010104.jpg" width="307" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Peter Fonda & Roger</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;"> Roger had been to Maui before, but it was my first time. They have a great radio station where they can play anything the DJ wants to play. That was a fun interview. </span><span style="font-size: large;">The theatre was air conditioned but the treat for the night was a visit from Roger’s old friend Peter Fonda. After the show Parky, Peter’s wife, and I were just amazed at how excited the two of them were remembering the stories of the past. They hadn’t seen each other since the late sixties.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o3GTCXQvJFw/V4UgnI6rAeI/AAAAAAAAHPk/iWLvbSwaEy0l9RstUCXC8ABCBsAXukvHgCLcB/s1600/P1010143.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="253" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o3GTCXQvJFw/V4UgnI6rAeI/AAAAAAAAHPk/iWLvbSwaEy0l9RstUCXC8ABCBsAXukvHgCLcB/s320/P1010143.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Barry McGuire & Roger</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> Speaking of the sixties, in September we drove to California for a west coast tour and were greeted by another old friend, Barry McGuire. We have kept in touch with Barry over the years, but this was the first time he and his wife, Mari, had seen “An Evening with Roger McGuinn.” The sound of Barry’s joyous laugh coming from the backstage after the show could be heard all over the venue.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> Time never separates old friends, distance does. I’m so glad we travel.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> Another old
friend popped up on this tour. In California, we were staying at a hotel which
is across the street from our new publishing administrator, Wixen Music.
Randall invited Roger to use his conference room for the video interviews I had
arranged. After one interview, Roger went back to the hotel and I decided to go
shopping at a favorite store in the nearby enclave of California fun.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> As I was
walking, I heard a man’s voice behind me talking on the cell phone. I felt he
was a little too close, but was sure he would keep going when I entered the
small boutique store. He followed me into the store! I quickly turned around
and he said, “Camilla, you know me.” I stuttered, “Of course I do. Who are you?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> “Randy
Gerston.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Wow. Randy was the A&R man who took Roger to Arista
records. He looked a lot different from the young, long haired man in 1990. It
was good to see him and we both were talking a mile a minute. Then he showed a
photo of himself during his search for the meaning of life. He was wearing the
orange of a Buddhist Monk. It was very interesting to hear his path. He was no
longer a monk but the disciplines were still part of his life. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> Randy’s office was in the same enclave, so Roger and I went
over the next day and had another delightful reunion. I was particularly happy
for the chance to talk with him, since the parting from a record company can be
difficult for all parties and I wanted him to know that we really did like him.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> Our November experiences included Detroit, Tokyo and Osaka. </span><span style="font-size: large;">In
Detroit, we joined Mitch Albom for his release of “the magic strings of Frankie
Presto.” Roger was one of the real life characters of the book.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> For Thanksgiving we had sushi. The concert in Tokyo was
attended by the reps from Martin guitar. They brought a 7-string for Roger to play
during the Japan concerts. We really don’t like carrying guitars on airplanes. </span></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HmGfiFAjYMY/V4UgQ9iBXeI/AAAAAAAAHPg/rhUewITdggIUIb2GpwN99W4SF56AYCOSwCLcB/s1600/P1010265.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HmGfiFAjYMY/V4UgQ9iBXeI/AAAAAAAAHPg/rhUewITdggIUIb2GpwN99W4SF56AYCOSwCLcB/s320/P1010265.jpg" width="192" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"> From Tokyo we took the Bullet Train to Osaka. The hotel was
connected to an amazing mall that had an “adult food court.” That is what the concierge
at the hotel called it. We realized the adult part was the cocktails that were
available. There were so many places to eat, but there was one restaurant that
had a long line of patrons waiting to get in. That was our clue to get in line.
It was the best sushi we have ever had!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-op-hxQy_6wY/V4UibuyKZOI/AAAAAAAAHP0/XW2lNp3bP6k3_VAPFkt5UWtssLEqDFTOACLcB/s1600/IMG_0715.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="252" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-op-hxQy_6wY/V4UibuyKZOI/AAAAAAAAHP0/XW2lNp3bP6k3_VAPFkt5UWtssLEqDFTOACLcB/s320/IMG_0715.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Best Restaurant in Osaka</td></tr>
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</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> We have always appreciated the sweetness, politeness and the trusting attitude of the Japanese. We were amazed to see bicycles in both cities sitting on the sidewalks unlocked. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> We thought we were going to spend Christmas at home, but a
last minute call from Tim telling us that the lecture department of the Queen Mary 2 was asking if Roger would be interested in coming on board for two lectures during the Christmas voyage to the Caribbean. How could we say no? We love
the neighborhood of the Queen Mary 2 and had been on the Christmas voyage
before. In fact it is a voyage that many people repeat, so there were old
friends everywhere.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-G22koFaFoog/V4UnsCQHBdI/AAAAAAAAHQE/0NJh6y2lhNUu6PRGrDbcTACpmDFAEkN5wCLcB/s1600/P1010462.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-G22koFaFoog/V4UnsCQHBdI/AAAAAAAAHQE/0NJh6y2lhNUu6PRGrDbcTACpmDFAEkN5wCLcB/s320/P1010462.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roger's Lecture on The Queen Mary 2</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> 2016 began on the ocean and we never have any idea where it
will end. We like the adventure of not knowing. We do know one thing about 2016;
it is the Twentieth Anniversary of the Folk Den. We spent most of the year
re-recording another 100 songs for the 4 CD set of the Twentieth Anniversary
Edition. It will be released on Roger’s 74<sup>th</sup> birthday, July
13. Go to mcguinn.com for a link to CDBABY for a copy. Just click on the blue CD cover. It is a nice compliment to the first Folk Den Project with the red cover.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> I would like to thank </span><span style="font-size: large;"> my 13
readers for being so patient waiting for this BLOG to get written.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-m3bvrIHbdX8/V4UacF2GKyI/AAAAAAAAHPM/jk3pKyYLQXwnjeu6ecJ-2rzIcQXFAw9AQCLcB/s1600/Poster.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="260" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-m3bvrIHbdX8/V4UacF2GKyI/AAAAAAAAHPM/jk3pKyYLQXwnjeu6ecJ-2rzIcQXFAw9AQCLcB/s400/Poster.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Back Cover of the 4 CD set. Roger on stage in Belgium.</td></tr>
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Roger McGuinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00238284241360672020noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13356327.post-52811312128665761052015-09-10T09:54:00.002-05:002015-09-10T09:54:28.361-05:00Roadie Report- Sept 11, 2015- We Remember!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XwNJSf7KpyQ/VfGZD4pkDQI/AAAAAAAAHCA/ait5YfCFM_s/s1600/P1000752.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="289" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XwNJSf7KpyQ/VfGZD4pkDQI/AAAAAAAAHCA/ait5YfCFM_s/s320/P1000752.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Roger McGuinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00238284241360672020noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13356327.post-46022871167156652842015-05-13T18:50:00.000-05:002015-05-13T18:58:34.207-05:00Roadie Report 73 by Camilla McGuinn - Cross Country, 37 Years & A New Touring Van<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mKiGhkiUgt4/VVJ29C-9VTI/AAAAAAAAG4c/J884ARl7zQQ/s1600/P1000140.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mKiGhkiUgt4/VVJ29C-9VTI/AAAAAAAAG4c/J884ARl7zQQ/s400/P1000140.JPG" width="370" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GT5_4fvAimM/VVJMXRbmHuI/AAAAAAAAG3E/3tJ4KYPvoKw/s1600/P1000105.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GT5_4fvAimM/VVJMXRbmHuI/AAAAAAAAG3E/3tJ4KYPvoKw/s320/P1000105.JPG" width="221" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"> The first 2015 concert was a return to the beautiful Fox
Theater in Tucson, AZ. It was a bit nostalgic because it was in this theater where
we recorded the concert for Roger's mother's 102nd birthday. The ambiance of that
night was so special that we decided to release the concert for Roger's fans to
enjoy in the CD/DVD "Stories, Songs & Friends."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"> One of
our favorite adventures is driving across country from Florida. Our 2005 Ford
van had over 250 thousand miles and was still running beautifully until we
stopped at the immigration check point on Interstate 10. I lowered the window
to let the border patrol officer look inside and ask the usual questions. As I
pulled away from the check point, I heard a loud clunk and the driver's side window had plummeted deep
inside the door. I pulled over and we managed to pull the window up with a pair
of long needle nose pliers. Then we wedged a squeegee in the frame to keep it from
falling back down again. </span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1H_rQSKKjSs/VVJM9TUHKFI/AAAAAAAAG3U/QRv4zQffuhs/s1600/P1000107.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1H_rQSKKjSs/VVJM9TUHKFI/AAAAAAAAG3U/QRv4zQffuhs/s320/P1000107.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">Roger
immediately got on the internet in search of a Ford dealer. Bingo! Just thirty
miles away and they said they could fix it that day. One of the great joys of
owning a Ford is that there is a dealer in every town and they usually have the
parts. They always wash our van after they have serviced it. We spent</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">a little over an hour in their waiting room
enjoying the company of a couple in their 80s who were driving from Indiana.
Roger helped the gentleman with his cell phone while their car was undergoing
an oil change. It's always encouraging to see alert octogenarians driving on cross
country adventures.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> Our
arrival in Tucson was just in time for Roger to have a guitar/ pizza party with
his brother, son and grandsons. The next night the familiar stage of the Fox
Theater rang in our 2015 year of touring.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> We
headed north on Valentine's Day for a concert in Gilbert, AZ. It turned out to
be a reunion with several friends we had known from the time we lived in Morro
Bay, Ca. The only problem with reunions at concerts is that there is little
time to sit and visit. We begin our work on a concert at lunchtime and don't
stop until we return to the hotel after the show. But even a short time spent with old friends
is a special moment in the evening.</span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3zXjiQWGcy8/VVPUF7ZZIPI/AAAAAAAAG5o/-xZdoj9cx1c/s1600/P1000132.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3zXjiQWGcy8/VVPUF7ZZIPI/AAAAAAAAG5o/-xZdoj9cx1c/s400/P1000132.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> Our
usual route for driving home is to take Interstate 10 back through Tucson, but this
time we wanted to explore roads we'd never traveled. There is a road from Gilbert Arizona that connects to Interstate 10 and runs through a beautiful
part of the Tonto National Forest. We were in awe of the miles of sky high rose-tinted
buttes. It was a relaxing drive rolling down to old
El Paso.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> The
Paramount Theater in Austin, Texas was the venue for the next concert but there
was time to spend an evening in one of our favorite stops, Fredericksburg, Texas.
This town was founded in 1846, named after Prince Frederick of Prussia.<span style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> It is a German settled oasis in the heart of the Lone
Star State. Another great thing about driving through Texas - the 85 mile an
hour speed limit!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> The Manship Theater is located in
the vibrant downtown of Baton Rouge. It is not only a beautiful theater, it is
a community oriented organization reaching out to the residents of the city with
classes and events that relate to all age groups. This was the second time
Roger had taken the stage in this amazing theater.</span> </span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-N7B1GC74nSo/VVJ3AsNnZXI/AAAAAAAAG4k/ETfLk34bcZ4/s1600/P1000188.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="242" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-N7B1GC74nSo/VVJ3AsNnZXI/AAAAAAAAG4k/ETfLk34bcZ4/s400/P1000188.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Winter Park, FL</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SKok_6Y1Oeg/VVJ24AmykCI/AAAAAAAAG4U/f0k0KSIgOD4/s1600/P1000192.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SKok_6Y1Oeg/VVJ24AmykCI/AAAAAAAAG4U/f0k0KSIgOD4/s320/P1000192.JPG" width="263" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"> In March, Roger gave a lecture at
Rollins College in the quintessential southern town of Winter Park, Florida. His
lectures are entitled, "How My Love of Folk Music Took Me to the Rock'n'
Roll Hall of Fame." The lecture was in the evening. The next morning he
took part in a Q& A session and lunch with a few music students. Even
though Winter Park isn't too far from our home, the early morning session was
the reason we stayed at the new Alfond Inn. The Alfond is owned by Rollins
College and it helps support their scholarship programs. It is a perfect hotel
to stay in for walking the quaint streets of Winter Park.</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-krhIbsXQ7N0/VVJ39J3leqI/AAAAAAAAG40/PxC9f7P3CNc/s1600/P1000206.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-krhIbsXQ7N0/VVJ39J3leqI/AAAAAAAAG40/PxC9f7P3CNc/s320/P1000206.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">37 Years of April Rose</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kcBxydQOvBk/VVJ38t5caMI/AAAAAAAAG4w/teDFqZxBVFM/s1600/P1000229.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kcBxydQOvBk/VVJ38t5caMI/AAAAAAAAG4w/teDFqZxBVFM/s400/P1000229.JPG" width="342" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">" A Love Affair"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> We
celebrated our 37th wedding anniversary on April 1 with a cozy dinner at home
and a viewing of the 1939 movie" A Love Affair." The movie " An
Affair to Remember" is a remake of this Charles Boyer/ Irene Dunn movie.
We're still debating about which one we like the best. It is really hard to
compare Cary Grant with anybody. He even said, "Everybody wants to to be
Cary Grant. <span style="background: white;"> Even I want to be Cary Grant.</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">"</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">
</span>Something
interesting happened right after the lecture during our morning devotions. We
decided to go to the website of Explorer Conversion Vans and send them an email
to contact us. Within an hour Scott, the Explorer Florida sales representative
called us. I told him we were thinking about the Ford Transit and we didn't
really need a lot of bells and whistles. He said the demo he was driving
sounded like the van for us and he would be passing by our house in two days.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<tr><td><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-G2fIDWD1KnY/VVOrIbl5LaI/AAAAAAAAG5Y/qy_Mbh1wqSI/s1600/Silver_Bullet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="197" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-G2fIDWD1KnY/VVOrIbl5LaI/AAAAAAAAG5Y/qy_Mbh1wqSI/s320/Silver_Bullet.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">2015 Ford Transit Explorer Conversion Van</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> Scott drove the silver Ford Transit into our
driveway on April 2. Roger test drove it for a couple of miles. Scott called
the Ford dealer for a trade-in quote on our 2002 Ford van and we sealed the
deal within in two hours. The van and paper work were delivered to us the
Saturday before Easter. After 10 years of touring in the 2005 Van, we had a new
set of wheels ! The 2005 E-250 van was relegated to being our new town car.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mFqY_mmoNT0/VVJNjC_9P8I/AAAAAAAAG3k/-ujOgudpLMQ/s1600/P1000239.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mFqY_mmoNT0/VVJNjC_9P8I/AAAAAAAAG3k/-ujOgudpLMQ/s320/P1000239.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Springtime Dogwood Blossoms</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">We
couldn't wait to get back on the road. We loaded the 'Silver Bullet' on April
19. First stop- Beaufort, SC and shrimp grits at the Saltus River Grill. From
there we cut up to Interstate 81 for a relaxing drive through the Springtime
Dogwood Blossoms in every Southern town to the Martin Guitar Factory in
Nazareth, PA. We love stopping at this factory even if we don't need </span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">to refurbish some guitars.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_NWwIUvQf1k/VVJNgnfwx_I/AAAAAAAAG3c/ADEJb4RWEyU/s1600/P1000261.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="226" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_NWwIUvQf1k/VVJNgnfwx_I/AAAAAAAAG3c/ADEJb4RWEyU/s400/P1000261.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Monmouth Guitar Jam</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> The
first performance of this tour was at Monmouth University. Roger gave a lecture
on April 23 followed by a guitar jam. The sound of a bunch of guitars playing
the Byrd's hits is always a memorable experience. The concert "An Evening
With Roger McGuinn" was the next night.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Room With a View</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> We were off and running. The Montclair, NJ
sold out concert was on April 25. Then there was just enough time for an
evening at our favorite hotel, The Sheraton Lincoln Harbor Hotel. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The view of
Manhattan keeps us spell bound for hours. This time though we were a bit
horrified. A new building was being constructed blocking of our view of the
Empire State Building. The waiter in the restaurant expressed as much dismay as
we did. He said it sprung up almost overnight. We're hoping it won't go all the
way to the top. Maybe it will stop just where I photographed it!</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jLOy7g6v53Y/VVJOrxEj5sI/AAAAAAAAG4A/FaNZNGT2aIY/s1600/P1000440.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jLOy7g6v53Y/VVJOrxEj5sI/AAAAAAAAG4A/FaNZNGT2aIY/s400/P1000440.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Construction blocking the Empire State Building</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> As much
fun as the respite was, we were chomping at the bit to get back in the new
Transit. Fortunately we were headed to the Midwest for concerts in Valparaiso,
Indiana; Elgin and Springfield Illinois
and Ann Arbor, Traverse City and Saginaw Michigan. On the way, our route was
taking us past the Explorer Conversion Van Factory - yep we had to stop! We
love seeing how things are made.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> The
Explorer facility is amazing. Our tour took a couple of hours because
everything they install in their conversion
vans is made in their factory! It's a quiet location surrounded by corn fields
in Warsaw, Indiana. I'm not sure what fascinated me more, though it was probably
the wiring harness they make for all their vans and the seat covers
they sew with leather imported from Europe. Roger had his cell phone camera rolling
during the tour. Click here to see just a portion of this amazing American factory. <a href="http://youtu.be/MQwhCrip43g" target="_blank">Explorer Factory Tour</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> One more
thing about the Ford Transit. IT IS the most amazing van I have ever driven!
This is our sixth van, five of them Fords, but this EcoBoost engine has an
incredible 300 horsepower and the van hugs curves like it is a sports car.... I
have a 1987 5.0 liter Ford Mustang convertible. If I wasn't happily employed, I would sell the
Ford Transit Explorer Conversion Van!
For full disclosure- we own 100 shares of Ford stock and 3 Fords. Oh
wait, we just bought another 100 shares of Ford!</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Explorers at the Explorer Factory</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Goodbye to the 2002 Van</td></tr>
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<br />Roger McGuinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00238284241360672020noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13356327.post-91831868172725422522015-03-15T12:33:00.000-05:002015-04-27T09:34:44.597-05:00Roadie Report 72 by Camilla McGuinn - 54 Trains, 61 Hotels and 2 Voyages<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HMHJMJgf86k/VFzy788LHrI/AAAAAAAAFoo/pda5-ybq0Gc/s1600/DSCN1934.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HMHJMJgf86k/VFzy788LHrI/AAAAAAAAFoo/pda5-ybq0Gc/s1600/DSCN1934.JPG" height="392" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roger at sound check in Bruges, Belguim</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.5333347320557px;"> The sounds of Roger singing and playing guitar are gently reaching my ears as I sit down at the desk in my office. I promised him that I would begin work on the BLOG this Saturday morning. After all I finally finished all the tax paperwork, planted vegetables and painted a wall. I have no more excuses. Now it was time to get to work. I don't really consider writing the BLOG as work, but there is a moment of sheer terror when I open the Word program and wonder if I can think of any words to type and if I do, will I write them properly. English grammar was not my best subject. I think I excelled in recess. Roger has been asking me for weeks when was I going to finish writing about our European tour. He likes reading the BLOG because it reminds him of our sweet memories.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-euaF6PU2XHU/VQWvhLu0VrI/AAAAAAAAGxo/CXNlrNDwvhk/s1600/DSCN1197.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-euaF6PU2XHU/VQWvhLu0VrI/AAAAAAAAGxo/CXNlrNDwvhk/s1600/DSCN1197.JPG" height="320" width="234" /></a><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.5333347320557px;"> </span><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.5333347320557px;"> I was curious as to how many trains we boarded during our 17 week concert tour and was shocked to count 54 different trains. Those Eurail and Britrail passes definitely paid off. Too bad there isn't a hotel pass somewhere. We checked into 61 hotels. After I had established our itinerary, booked our hotels and studied train schedules, I knew that the best way to approach the journey was one day at a time. Everyday held a new adventure but I have to admit that during the last two weeks, I felt like I was climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro. One step at a time became the focus that would take us back to Southampton and the respite awaiting us on the elegant Queen Mary 2 even though Roger was giving lectures on board. But before we began the voyage home, there were some beautiful cities and wonderful concert audiences to experience.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.5333347320557px;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.5333347320557px;"> After the concerts in Germany, we boarded the Eurostar for the second time on this trip for four concerts in England. Roger had performed at all the theaters on previous tours. It was like coming home to Bristol, London, Leeds and Newcastle and the sun was shining in every city.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eurostar Train Station</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.5333347320557px;"> </span><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.5333347320557px;"> The day after the Newcastle concert, we had to catch a train to London, navigate the busy streets of London to change train stations, then catch the Eurostar again, this time to Brussels. We arrived in Brussels just in time to get a late night sleep. On October 1, we caught the train to Eindhoven for the first of 13 concerts in the Netherlands.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.5333347320557px;"> Remco, the tour manager from MOJO concerts, picked us up at our hotel. We had worked with him two years earlier and were thrilled when he told us that Kurt was our sound engineer again. This professional crew made our concerts stress free and fun.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.5333347320557px;"> The next train was to Enschede, then to Haarlem for a concert and four nights in the same hotel, The Carlton Square. The city of Harlem is perfect for walking. There is one historical museum that I have always wanted to see and this was our chance. The home of Corrie Ten Boom with a hiding place in the house that saved lives.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.5333347320557px;"> The Ten Boom family were Christians who hid a group of Jews during the Nazi occupation. In their house a fake wall was constructed for a small room where the Jews hid while the Ten Boom family was taken to prison. Corrie was the only family member who survived the Nazi concentration camps. She wrote a book about those times called, "<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Hiding-Place-Corrie-Ten-Boom/dp/0553256696/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1426435378&sr=1-3&keywords=the+hiding+place">:The Hiding Place</a> ."The tours are small and free.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.5333347320557px;"> I asked several people in the Netherlands if they had been to the house, but few people knew about it. Everyone knew about Ann Frank's house in Amsterdam. I didn't understand why this home was so unknown until a friend mentioned to Roger that the Ten Boom story is known as a Christian story, not as a holocaust survivor story. Same war, same God, same Jewish people, same prison.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.5333347320557px;"> Exploring the streets and crossing the canals in Haarlem were the quiet moments we embraced. The old buildings, the restaurants and the small hotel became very familiar by the time we caught the train for the next concert in Tilburg.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amsterdam</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.5333347320557px;"> We traveled by train to most of the cities, but Holland is a small country so we decided to base out of Amsterdam for some of the shows with Remco driving us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rijksmuseum</td></tr>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CTUJIDth0-o/VFzzqHApg2I/AAAAAAAAFpw/gCT6TvTxaaY/s1600/DSCN1653.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"></a><br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CTUJIDth0-o/VFzzqHApg2I/AAAAAAAAFpw/gCT6TvTxaaY/s1600/DSCN1653.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"></a><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.5333347320557px;"> </span><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.5333347320557px;"> Once again I found a flat to rent for five days in a very fun area of Amsterdam, just blocks from the Rijksmuseum. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.5333347320557px;"> </span><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.5333347320557px;"> On the way to the museum we walked along a street that was better than Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills. </span><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.5333347320557px;">There was even a Tesla showroom.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CTUJIDth0-o/VFzzqHApg2I/AAAAAAAAFpw/gCT6TvTxaaY/s1600/DSCN1653.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CTUJIDth0-o/VFzzqHApg2I/AAAAAAAAFpw/gCT6TvTxaaY/s1600/DSCN1653.JPG" height="262" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Telsa Showroom </td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.5333347320557px;"> </span><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.5333347320557px;">But true to our habits, our shopping was done in the closest grocery store. Our flat had such a beautiful garden we saw no reason to look for a window table in a restaurant.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HOq6UDrgFfk/VFzzyyQmUNI/AAAAAAAAFp4/TgefTT7wYng/s1600/DSCN1577.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HOq6UDrgFfk/VFzzyyQmUNI/AAAAAAAAFp4/TgefTT7wYng/s1600/DSCN1577.JPG" height="270" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flat with a view</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.5333347320557px;"><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.5333347320557px;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.5333347320557px;"> Every city in Holland has a wealth of history and of course a beautiful church. </span><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.5333347320557px;"> The canals, windmills and countryside are impressive but it is the bicycles that kept amazing us. The streets have big bike paths and we were in more danger of being hit by a bicycle than we were by cars or buses. Everyone rides, little toddlers to grandmothers. The train stations even have double-decker bike garages.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Commuter parking lot</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.5333347320557px;"> Before the concerts, I'm in the lobby at what Roger calls my "lemonade stand." I have Roger's autographed CDs and posters available for his fans. The main reason I like to be there is that folks tell me their stories about Roger and how his music touched their lives. After the concert in Hoorn, several men were excited to tell me that the sea chantey Roger talked and sang about, "Randy, Dandy O," made reference to Cape Horn. Cape Horn was named by the sailors from Hoorn in Holland.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bruges,Belgium</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roger at sound check</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.5333347320557px;"> Before the end of the Holland concerts, we made one trip to the city of Bruges, Belgium and the beautiful theater that was built as a replica of the Paris Opera House. After a while, the word beautiful seems so overdone, but there is really no other way to describe some of the lovely cities of Europe. We had one day off to explore the historical part Bruges, then it was back on the train for our last concert in Holland in the city of Nijmegen.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bird Man in Brugge</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.5333347320557px;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.5333347320557px;"> We boarded the Eurostar for the fourth time during this tour on October 30. By now, finding our seats on the Chunnel Train was as easy as navigating Amtrak and the St. Pancras Renaissance Hotel was feeling like a second home.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.5333347320557px;"> November 1st was the beginning of the last leg of our concert tour. Concerts were scheduled in Milton Keynes, Birmingham, Cardiff, Brighton, Manchester, Liverpool, Nottingham and Cheltenham. This was when I began feeling like I was climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro. Words spoken can have an impact, so I didn't tell Roger I was becoming weary. Each concert requires a lot of energy from both of us and any cloud can drain energy that is needed for a fresh performance. Once Roger walks on stage, my energy soars until the last encore.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.5333347320557px;"> Our train trips through England were filled with the same excitement that we felt when we embarked on our first train journey in the United Kingdom many years ago. Seeing familiar cities, theaters and friends in the unusually warm sunny weather brought us to laughter when we told everyone that the warm sunshine would go away when we boarded the Queen Mary 2 on November 12.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p90yPlAhitc/VQW3HxjmBdI/AAAAAAAAGyI/YwkuZF1O6bQ/s1600/Queen_Mary_2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="font-size: medium; line-height: normal; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p90yPlAhitc/VQW3HxjmBdI/AAAAAAAAGyI/YwkuZF1O6bQ/s1600/Queen_Mary_2.JPG" height="272" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Queen Mary 2</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.5333347320557px;"> After the last concert in Cheltenham, Tilo, our English tour manager, drove us to Southampton. The sight of the majestic ocean liner almost brought tears to my eyes. The journey was almost over. I was relieved in a way, but sad with a sense of awe. Did we really do it? Did we haul guitars up the steps to 54 trains and into 61 hotels. And the age old question every performer thinks when the run is over, "Will we ever work again?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24.5333347320557px;"> Yep! We did. We just got back from driving to concerts in Arizona, Texas and Louisiana. I hear we're going to Japan and Hawaii this year. There will be more sweet memories coming!</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WX9Av0QRaT4/VFzzlm-vyaI/AAAAAAAAFpo/A5CfbIHPhLk/s1600/DSCN1471.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WX9Av0QRaT4/VFzzlm-vyaI/AAAAAAAAFpo/A5CfbIHPhLk/s1600/DSCN1471.JPG" height="320" width="278" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This painting was in the flat in Amsterdam. It reminded me of someone.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I was surprised at how close I could get to this painting and that photos were allowed in the Rijksmuseum.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bruges, Belgium</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from our hotel room of the Castle in Cardiff </td></tr>
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<br />Roger McGuinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00238284241360672020noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13356327.post-5518801815941371372014-10-11T11:25:00.000-05:002015-03-15T12:55:49.303-05:00Roadie Report 71 by Camilla McGuinn - Germany and Austria<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Nuremberg</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"> The song "Get To You"
kept going through my head as I pulled out my computer to write about the
German portion of the tour. It is a song about a journey to get to a person loved. We love our journeys.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from a train window in Germany</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"> Long train trips offer a perfect opportunity to write the
BLOG but it means my eyes keep darting from the keyboard to the scenery speeding
past the window. We are amazed at how much beautiful open land there is throughout England and
Europe. These countries are centuries old but only the cities are crowded. The
farmlands are abundant with delicious vegetables like the ones my grandma used
to raise. Tomatoes with flavor! If I'm ever home long enough to pick a ripe
tomato, I plan on planting them in abundance, but I'm married to a troubadour
who never wants to stop carrying his
guitar to places where folks will listen. Thank you all so much for listening!</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cologne Cathedral</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: x-large;"> Castles and Cathedrals are scattered everywhere. They
took centuries to build but the solar panels and wind turbines are new to the
landscape. We are sincere proponents of using the power of the sun and wind. Germany
has miles of solar farms and thousands of houses storing the energy of a new
time. Remember the stone age ceased because they found better ways, not because
they ran out of stones. Our hope is that our oil age will cease when the
ability to store the sun's energy becomes available, cost effective and
important to everyone.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-v2iGmDiM3LU/VDlUkTgRMBI/AAAAAAAADvY/8yAVm6FCB-k/s1600/Solar_Panels.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-v2iGmDiM3LU/VDlUkTgRMBI/AAAAAAAADvY/8yAVm6FCB-k/s1600/Solar_Panels.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
</td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;"><div style="margin: 0px;">
German Solar Farm</div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"> When we talk about the different countries we have
visited, Roger always says that he loves Germany because everything works. Well
Germany was having a glitch when we toured in September. Our "boot
camp" continued!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2NQ-X9eiA-M/VDlTovJAjJI/AAAAAAAADuQ/RCMFJSWLmLU/s1600/DSCN0157.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2NQ-X9eiA-M/VDlTovJAjJI/AAAAAAAADuQ/RCMFJSWLmLU/s1600/DSCN0157.JPG" height="273" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cologne Train Station</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"> Figuring the logistics for three and half months was a
daunting task, but I was sure that the German portion of our train connections
would be exactly as listed. After a wonderful stay and concert in Antwerp, we
boarded the train for a long trip to Hamburg. Little did we know that the
German train drivers had called for a three hour strike. Our train left Antwerp
on time, arrived in Brussels on time and in Cologne on time. With a 55 minute
connection time we strolled to our next platform. The September weather was
sunny and warm. Sitting on the platform watching the people was delightful. We
felt confident that all was well with the world. Then announcements in German
began and every so often one in English. "Due to the strike the train to
Hamburg has been delayed 30 minutes." We were still comfortable on one of
the few benches available. After 30 minutes, I became less comfortable. I went to check the electronic platform board. Our train was in
the station but at a different platform. It was boarding.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"> I ran to get Roger and our luggage. The escalator down
was working. When we got to the escalator going up to the changed platform, it
was out of order. We didn't have time to look for an elevator, so we began
carrying our heavy luggage up the escalator steps. The metal steps were not conducive
to dragging the wheeled bags up, so we had to lift them. Now I thought we had
sparsely packed for our almost 18 week adventure, but lifting our bags on that
escalator caused me to lament at having to need anything at all. Half way up a
young couple who was passing us picked up my second bag and got me to the top.
I broke a rule, left my bags there and ran back down to take the guitar Roger
was carrying. We each carry one guitar, one roller bag and one misc bag. Roger
also carries a third bag for those last minute things like water. We boarded
the train just before it pulled out of the station.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"> The first German concert was in Hamburg on September 7th.
Peter, the promoter for the eight German
concerts and the one Austrian concert of our tour, met us at the hotel. We had
worked with Peter five years ago. He wasn't only a promoter, he had become a
friend. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"> We traveled by train to all but one of the cities with a
day off every two days.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"> The train from Oldenburg to Nuremberg was delayed
reaching our connection in Hannover. We had 14 minutes to change platforms.
That wouldn't have been a problem if the train had been on time and especially
if the electronic platform list had been working. It was working except for the part that listed the platform
for our train to Nuremberg. Once we found the location of our connection, we
ran to the platform but the elevator wasn't working. One more time we were
dragging our bags up the stairs. Finally as we reached the top of the stairs we caught site of our train just leaving the
station. We laughed as we simultaneously said, "Boot Camp!"
Fortunately, I had a rail planner app on
my iPhone. There was another train to Nuremberg in 30 minutes.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-39-xT0P5zDg/VDlT5Zzzz2I/AAAAAAAADuo/YOrB7Hn2hNw/s1600/DSCN0331.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-39-xT0P5zDg/VDlT5Zzzz2I/AAAAAAAADuo/YOrB7Hn2hNw/s1600/DSCN0331.JPG" height="315" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dinner Time</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">The train arrived
in Nuremberg in time for dinner. Walking the ancient streets in the cool
evening gave us a sense of history. We found a beer garden to enjoy a
delightful traditional German dinner.</span></div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sMXfj7qOB1o/VDlUQY_DVqI/AAAAAAAADvA/7ZQLK6oGLFQ/s1600/DSCN0627.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sMXfj7qOB1o/VDlUQY_DVqI/AAAAAAAADvA/7ZQLK6oGLFQ/s1600/DSCN0627.JPG" height="303" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Osnabruck from our hotel window.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lO_cyEXbC84/VDlUW1NrC2I/AAAAAAAADvI/GUm1qQsCqKs/s1600/DSCN0606.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lO_cyEXbC84/VDlUW1NrC2I/AAAAAAAADvI/GUm1qQsCqKs/s1600/DSCN0606.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Osnabruck restaurant</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Osnabruck is a city we have never visited. The old part
of the town is graced with beautiful cathedrals,
shops and restaurants. Our lunch time server told us the city is beautifully
decorated for the Christmas season and is a destination for many during the
holidays.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"> The tour schedule doesn't always give us the time to fully appreciate the cities and we did wish
that we had more time especially in the vibrant city of Berlin to visit the
museums. Germany's cities and countryside are like paintings and a walk through
history.</span><br />
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<tr><td><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-M92wVjHpLLY/VDlUIKV9-NI/AAAAAAAADu4/1doOZjCSTkI/s1600/DSCN0514.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-M92wVjHpLLY/VDlUIKV9-NI/AAAAAAAADu4/1doOZjCSTkI/s1600/DSCN0514.JPG" height="400" width="248" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Roger in Berlin<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"> On our way to the last German concert in Stuttgart, we
lost another electronic device. It was a perfect storm. The train lurched, a
box of crackers fell into a glass, the glass fell into Roger's Apple MacBook
Air computer keyboard. The computer was destroyed. One iPad, one camera and now
one computer had become pieces of dead hardware due to liquids. The camera was
replaced and now we had to replace the computer because Roger still had two
more lectures on the Queen Mary 2 during the November 12 crossing to New York.
The presentation was dependent on the computer program showing pictures, video and audio clips. Roger had diligently
backed up the lectures on a separate hard drive. We decided to wait until we
got to London to visit the Apple store for another computer. I decided that I
didn't really need another iPad. Life just got simpler.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin: 0px;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-is95TF1aTF8/VDlUsRSqAjI/AAAAAAAADvg/eccpOJeHlVs/s1600/DSCN0985.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-is95TF1aTF8/VDlUsRSqAjI/AAAAAAAADvg/eccpOJeHlVs/s1600/DSCN0985.JPG" height="320" width="273" /></a></div>
</td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;"><div style="margin: 0px;">
Roger taking the computer apart.</div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"> The computer disaster didn't dampen the Stuttgart
concert. It was in a wonderful venue with a great sound system and happy
audience. We left a note for Elvis Costello who was playing there a few weeks
after Roger.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"> Our TGV train left our final German city, Stuttgart on Sept
23rd for London via Paris on the Eurostar. Our traveling "chops" were
now fine tuned. Navigating the German
train stations became as familiar as our beloved highways of the United States.
We were hoping the "Boot Camp"
training was coming to an end but even the glitches from London to Germany had
already become a funny part of our sweet memories.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Linz Austria</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
Roger McGuinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00238284241360672020noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13356327.post-32539227988985772302014-09-20T09:31:00.002-05:002015-03-15T12:58:27.202-05:00Roadie Report 70 by Camilla McGuin - PARIS, BRUSSELS and ANTWERP<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PWr6RS7uTVk/VB2ATMxSmtI/AAAAAAAAB6c/v9FxO8qGPBI/s1600/IMG_0886.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PWr6RS7uTVk/VB2ATMxSmtI/AAAAAAAAB6c/v9FxO8qGPBI/s1600/IMG_0886.JPG" height="297" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roger in Paris</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"> Leaving our
Knightsbridge flat was a bit of a sweet sorrow but we had two more favorite
hotels to experience before our trip to the Continent.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Two
nights were spent sleeping in the boutique hotel, The Knightsbridge Inn. We
found this lovely converted row house years ago and even though it has now
exceeded our budget, the two nights spent there on the special weekend rate
were well worth it. We ate at our favorite local Thai restaurant around the
corner and the food court at Harrods. London was now a very familiar city for
us.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"> After
the Kensington neighborhood, we cashed in our Marriott Frequent Hotel points
for the lovely and convenient Renaissance at St. Pancras train station since we
would be catching the Euro Star to Paris from there. It was so luxurious to be
able to roll our bags out of the hotel lobby right into the train station.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">"Paris
is a woman's town with flowers in her hair." That is a line from the Henry Van
Dyke poem "America For Me." </span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">Roger and I found the poem on a cozy night in
Berkeley California in a poetry book my brother had saved from our childhood.
When I read it to Roger, he picked up his guitar and added the music. Our next CD
project named "Favorites" will include that song.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-U3dLfRUEzF8/VB2BF_Q-JsI/AAAAAAAAB60/Wze3jfs6ZVQ/s1600/IMG_0792.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-U3dLfRUEzF8/VB2BF_Q-JsI/AAAAAAAAB60/Wze3jfs6ZVQ/s1600/IMG_0792.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Flowers at Notre Dame</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-G_qISXNoVSE/VB2BM2i3hRI/AAAAAAAAB68/iXmy31-9GGQ/s1600/IMG_0885.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-G_qISXNoVSE/VB2BM2i3hRI/AAAAAAAAB68/iXmy31-9GGQ/s1600/IMG_0885.jpg" height="400" width="272" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">Paris is
indeed a city with flowers and lights. We walked the city for hours. With
famous landmarks as a destination; Notre Dame, the Eiffel Tower and the Opera
House. It was August and even though the locals had left town, the rest of the
world was on every corner. Years ago we had been in the Eiffel Tower restaurant
for lunch, prayed quietly in Notre Dame and visited the Louvre, mostly to see
the "Mona Lisa." This time the lines were longer at those points of
interest than the ones at </span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">Walt Disney
World in the summer! The crowds didn't bother us, we were just happy to be
living and walking for a few days in this beautiful city.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--IXJi1cZp4Y/VB2BmtfA6GI/AAAAAAAAB7U/-wlWivSoG-U/s1600/IMG_2744.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--IXJi1cZp4Y/VB2BmtfA6GI/AAAAAAAAB7U/-wlWivSoG-U/s1600/IMG_2744.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">We always had a
destination on our walks, but we never knew quite where it would lead us. The
third day in Paris was day for meandering until we got hungry. Pat, our
sister-in-law, joined us on our exploration. The lunch hours were almost over
and I was insistent that we keep looking for the quintessential French
restaurant. A late lunch is usually our main meal of the day. That means the
meal is special to us and should have tablecloths with atmosphere.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EO6hC53qPng/VB2A0j45RFI/AAAAAAAAB6s/6VO81q1Erro/s1600/IMG_1056.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EO6hC53qPng/VB2A0j45RFI/AAAAAAAAB6s/6VO81q1Erro/s1600/IMG_1056.JPG" height="320" width="226" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">Roger and Pat
were getting worried that I might insist we go back to the Oriental part of
Paris for sushi. I declared that we would soon find the perfect restaurant and
then we did! Peering into a window we saw tablecloths and a cozy ambience. We
later learned that Le Grand Colbert restaurant was used in a favorite movie of
ours, "Something's Got to Give" with Jack Nicholson and Diane Keaton.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Paris
was on our way to the Belgium and German part of the concert tour but while we
were in Paris we celebrated our dear friend Lariane's sixtieth birthday. Her
husband Phil, emailed me and asked if I wanted to speak at her Paris</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"> soiree. I
replied, "Have you ever known me not to want to talk?" </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-emaH0YHu3oc/VB2BiK7k1DI/AAAAAAAAB7M/otQ35BHXvi0/s1600/IMG_1118.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-emaH0YHu3oc/VB2BiK7k1DI/AAAAAAAAB7M/otQ35BHXvi0/s1600/IMG_1118.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">Even though I
was quick to say yes, the reality of trying to honor a special person became a
daunting process. I came up with all sorts of corny jokes. My prayer became,
"Oh Lord...what am I going to say?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Then the answer
came in an email from Roger. He had read some quotes of Winston Churchill and
thought his "history buff" of a wife would enjoy their wisdom. As I
read the quotes from Laraine's fellow countryman, I realized Mr. Churchill had
described all the amazing traits of her intestinal fortitude. Every quote fit Laraine perfectly. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"> The epiphany of
going back into history to describe a friend, inspired me to go further back. I
went to the words of The Apostle Paul in 1 Corinthians 13 in the New Testament
of the Bible. It is called the "Love Chapter." Once again, the
chapter described Laraine's traits.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Since all good things come in threes, I
needed one more quote,. I asked an older and wiser man... my husband Roger.
Without a pause, he described Laraine as a spark. "When she walks into a
room, the whole room ignites." For the eighty people who traveled from
around the world for her Paris celebration, those words described her brilliantly.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Roger's time is Paris was filled with
telephone interviews to promote our five country concert tour but now it was
time to stamp our Global Eurail Pass for the train to Brussels. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-q9d0HU6N5as/VB2DoelIaxI/AAAAAAAAB7g/E_4_50iqbjw/s1600/IMG_1217.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-q9d0HU6N5as/VB2DoelIaxI/AAAAAAAAB7g/E_4_50iqbjw/s1600/IMG_1217.jpg" height="230" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">We spent two in
days a favorite hotel in the old section of town, the Amigo Hotel. The area is
filled with restaurants, cobbled streets and old architecture. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Roger performed
for a radio show and then we found a local food </span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--1_oDOP7ZcQ/VB2AKhmXEYI/AAAAAAAAB6U/9Q_OTTAfvyE/s1600/IMG_1214.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--1_oDOP7ZcQ/VB2AKhmXEYI/AAAAAAAAB6U/9Q_OTTAfvyE/s1600/IMG_1214.JPG" height="223" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">Radio 1 Belgium</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;">market to prepare a tapas
picnic for dinner. Grocery stores can be as much fun as museums if you enjoy
eating like a local.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Two days later we
were on the train to the beautiful town of Antwerp and our first concert of the
tour. We stayed in the old part of the city and were captivated by the charm
and the fact that it wasn't only for tourists but local people working, eating
and living within its boundaries. There were real stores including a great
camera shop. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"> I had been
missing my camera since London. All my photos of Paris were from my iPhone, but
I sorely missed my 20X zoom lens. The moment I decided to quit silently
lamenting my loss, we crossed the street and walked into a great store. A kind
gentleman demonstrated a Nikon with <u>30x zoom</u> - better than my last one.
I was concerned that it would be much more expensive than it would be in the
States, but it was a fair price. Now I could zoom in on all the sites of
Europe.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dnFQ6_KFF28/VB2FkjpzW1I/AAAAAAAAB7s/a04KybqrbEM/s1600/IMG_1276.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dnFQ6_KFF28/VB2FkjpzW1I/AAAAAAAAB7s/a04KybqrbEM/s1600/IMG_1276.jpg" height="400" width="317" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful Antwerp taken with my new camera.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LRcwcGsfpKM/VB2AoJqUlBI/AAAAAAAAB6k/Z-IjsqRXf3k/s1600/DSCN0143.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; font-size: x-large; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LRcwcGsfpKM/VB2AoJqUlBI/AAAAAAAAB6k/Z-IjsqRXf3k/s1600/DSCN0143.jpg" height="320" width="264" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"> One of my first
zooms back at the hotel was a street cleaner or maybe I should say street vacuum cleaner. I couldn't believe
it ... they vacuumed the sidewalks with a portable cleaner. In my town a great
big truck comes around about once a month with brushes that move stuff around,
here the vacuum cleaner sucked it all up. Well I guess it is the</span> <span style="font-size: large;">simple things
that amaze me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"> "Boot
camp" didn't begin again until Germany.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ASzJ5KGGvjk/VB2BXSYkJPI/AAAAAAAAB7E/nA2iibMm-Z8/s1600/IMG_0846.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ASzJ5KGGvjk/VB2BXSYkJPI/AAAAAAAAB7E/nA2iibMm-Z8/s1600/IMG_0846.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
We will always have Paris!</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />Roger McGuinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00238284241360672020noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13356327.post-33586493430659723472014-09-12T10:13:00.002-05:002015-03-15T13:00:24.829-05:00Roadie Report 69 By Camilla McGuinn - London Days and More Boot Camp<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vF4_MoZRZ3c/VBMHkWGiBpI/AAAAAAAAB5A/UM6u1YyA_Hk/s1600/P1010080.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vF4_MoZRZ3c/VBMHkWGiBpI/AAAAAAAAB5A/UM6u1YyA_Hk/s1600/P1010080.JPG" height="350" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunny Days in London</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kQubdAlO8IY/VBMGs8PSkII/AAAAAAAAB3g/udAeqHfjqxc/s1600/IMG_0683.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; font-size: 24px; line-height: 27.6000003814697px; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kQubdAlO8IY/VBMGs8PSkII/AAAAAAAAB3g/udAeqHfjqxc/s1600/IMG_0683.jpg" height="291" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">Our London Neighborhood</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0.5in;"> We dropped our bags in the flat and put on our exploring
shoes to familiarize ourselves with our new neighborhood for the next ten days.
I knew that a Whole Foods Market was less than a mile to the west and Harrods
food court was a mile in the other direction, but tonight dinner would be in a
local restaurant.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 115%;">After dinner, our walk home in the warm London evening was
enhanced by the smiles on our faces. With all the exercise we had gotten
pulling our equipment over the Thames, we turned in early after enjoying a glass of wine on
the cozy patio.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7HMSThFz2SQ/VBMG1FnEehI/AAAAAAAAB34/9CZVAro_lU8/s1600/IMG_0694.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7HMSThFz2SQ/VBMG1FnEehI/AAAAAAAAB34/9CZVAro_lU8/s1600/IMG_0694.jpg" height="320" width="242" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The morning light.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The flat is located in the basement of one of the row houses.
Because of the ground location, it has two private patios, one off the living
room and one off the master bedroom. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0.5in;"> Morning sunshine flooding the master patio
was our morning alarm clock.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Everything was perfect, until Roger took a shower. He emerged
from the bathroom laughing, "Remember how I mentioned we were in boot camp
yesterday? Well we still are! There is
no hot water. I took a cold shower."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> I jumped out of bed
and began testing all the faucets. Yep, he was right. There was no hot water. A
quick telephone call to the rental agent's office assured me the problem would
be fixed quickly. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As I was washing my face in the sink, I noticed water on the
floor. There was a leak in the master bath sink spilling out of the cabinet
onto the floor. A quick call to the rental agent was again necessary. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Then a short time later, another call to the rental agent, "This
is a basement apartment and it is a little chilly. The thermostat doesn't seem
to be working." "No problem. Someone will be over today."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tj2gPLq-osc/VBMG7vHcSDI/AAAAAAAAB4I/nAvFtG4rZSw/s1600/IMG_0718.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tj2gPLq-osc/VBMG7vHcSDI/AAAAAAAAB4I/nAvFtG4rZSw/s1600/IMG_0718.jpg" height="320" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Kitchen</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Feeling confident that everything would be fixed, we began
our first walk to the Whole Foods Market to stock our kitchen. Our favorite way
of exploring cities is to go to their grocery stores. Even though Whole Foods
isn't a typical grocery store where most folks do their weekly shopping, Whole
Foods Markets are different in every country. We later found a Sainsbury's, the
second largest chain of UK supermarkets, and another favorite, the Waitrose, which
Nick, Roger's agent had recommended.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Nu1gHAA8sy4/VBMGwC4DsrI/AAAAAAAAB3o/6zTiDQc3WqQ/s1600/IMG_0684.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Nu1gHAA8sy4/VBMGwC4DsrI/AAAAAAAAB3o/6zTiDQc3WqQ/s1600/IMG_0684.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Dining Table to Entertain Friends</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Our food shopping had dual purposes. We were cooking for
friends. After thirty years of working with Nick Peel, we'd never had the
opportunity to share our favorite hobby with him. He was coming to dinner. We
also invited friends that we'd made on the Queen Elizabeth and the Queen Mary
2. Cooking in our quirky little flat in London was going to be fun, but sharing
it with others was going to be the highlight of the stay.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fEyNSSFkyng/VBMHUOXoNSI/AAAAAAAAB4w/7pGTzuHSsk4/s1600/P1010088.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fEyNSSFkyng/VBMHUOXoNSI/AAAAAAAAB4w/7pGTzuHSsk4/s1600/P1010088.JPG" height="320" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Famous Black Taxi</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 115%;">In between the domestic bliss, Roger had a full schedule of
radio and press interviews to promote the tour. Ou</span><span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0.5in;">r taxi bill was getting very
high but we had a plan. Public transportation has always been fascinating to me.
I never lived in a city where you could hop a bus to go somewhere, now I did.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Our grocery store forays had us walking for miles. When we
passed the bus stops, I always wondered how to get on a bus. How much was the
fare? How did you know where they were going? Thanks to the internet, I became
an aficionado of the London bus system.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VEtIdw7BEB4/VBMHCeioHOI/AAAAAAAAB4Y/OqnQ99rL2HQ/s1600/IMG_0723.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VEtIdw7BEB4/VBMHCeioHOI/AAAAAAAAB4Y/OqnQ99rL2HQ/s1600/IMG_0723.jpg" height="320" width="293" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A View from the Bus</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You can't pay with coins on London buses, you have to have an
"Oyster Card." Nick explained that once you bought the cards, you
could top them up and use them forever. We went to our local tube station,
bought two cards, looked up the routes on the internet and became regulars on
the top deck of the very clean red, double-decker London buses.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The buses were now our form of transportation and sightseeing.
When Nick said he was going to catch the bus for our dinner party, he was
surprised when I told him to catch the #74, it stopped a block from our flat.
We also caught the #74 to Westminster Abbey for the Sunday service.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Lx9vX83Dc1g/VBMLkpAOlQI/AAAAAAAAB5I/fKt70aTXGKo/s1600/IMG_0617.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Lx9vX83Dc1g/VBMLkpAOlQI/AAAAAAAAB5I/fKt70aTXGKo/s1600/IMG_0617.JPG" height="400" width="220" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Westminster Abbey</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Westminster Abbey is magnificent. The service was touching,
but the thing that interested me most were the number of women wearing burqas
sitting though the service. On Sunday's
there are no tours offered in Westminster Abbey. I surmised they realized the
only way to get into the historical church on Sunday was to attend the
religious service. They all sat quietly listening to a teaching about the love
of Jesus.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Back at the flat, things were falling apart in the old
building. I wasn't sure if we were living in a nightmare or a sitcom. It took three days to get hot water and heat.
Roger went to sit down at the dinner table the night Nick came to dinner and he
barely caught himself as the chair collapsed. That night the bed collapsed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Now I became concerned. If a child had been in the bed, its
head might have become lodged between the board that was holding the mattress
to the frame when it slipped and fell to the floor. I was very thankful Roger's
hands didn't get caught in the collapse. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZDDOayov9aY/VBMG4a2W83I/AAAAAAAAB4A/pSOXXa3U0ks/s1600/IMG_0711.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></a><span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The next day, Roger flipped on the bathroom light switch,
heard a pop and all the lights went out. No electric light in a basement flat
can cause a lot of darkness at the wrong time of day. Another call to the agent.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZDDOayov9aY/VBMG4a2W83I/AAAAAAAAB4A/pSOXXa3U0ks/s1600/IMG_0711.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZDDOayov9aY/VBMG4a2W83I/AAAAAAAAB4A/pSOXXa3U0ks/s1600/IMG_0711.jpg" height="249" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from my desk.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0.5in;"> In</span><span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0.5in;"> spite of the problems, </span><span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0.5in;">we loved shopping, entertaining our
friends and living in this quirky London flat! </span><span style="font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%; text-indent: 0.5in;"> Every morning I would sit at the
desk working on the tour with a cup of tea to sip for those occasional breaks
to gaze out the window.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NC9rj42LGas/VBMHFfnGlsI/AAAAAAAAB4g/X4ZlEPxoypA/s1600/IMG_0728.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NC9rj42LGas/VBMHFfnGlsI/AAAAAAAAB4g/X4ZlEPxoypA/s1600/IMG_0728.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a><span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Dennis Hopper's photographs were being displayed at the Royal
Academy of Arts. They were also showing two of his movies, "The Last
Movie" and "Easy Rider." In our lives, we know there are no
coincidences. A bus ride to the museum was now on our agenda.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We got to the museum just as it opened and "The Last
Movie" was showing. Since neither one of us had seen it, we sat through
the rather agonizing hour and a half of the movie that got Dennis Hopper banned
from Hollywood for years. We felt we had to stay to the end. I kept hoping the
ending would be interesting, but it was worse than the whole of the movie. Now
that is about as much as a movie critic I ever want to be.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Mr. Hopper's photographs are a time capsule. There were some familiar faces for Roger. We did go back to the screening room
to watch "Easy Rider" but I insisted on leaving before Jack Nicholson
got bashed on the head with a baseball bat. I don't like dark moments.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I purposely kept the last day open, so we could have one last
romantic evening in our London home and
begin packing for our tour. The doorbell rang at 11am that day. Three
attractive ladies were standing at the door appearing surprised to see me. They
were the maids. It was our check out day! In 34 years of being a tour manager,
I have never missed a check out day!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I smiled, "Oh
there must be a mistake. Please excuse me while I call the agent." Before
the phone call, I checked my reservation papers ... yikes! I <u>had</u> made a mistake.
The ladies told me that all the hotel rooms in London were booked for a
carnival in Knotting Hill.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 115%;">This time, my call to the agent's office was ever so humble
with a desperate plea to stay one more night. I had just put clothes in the
washing machine. We couldn't get out in an hour. The agent told me the owner
was scheduled to arrive that day, but they would call and ask him. The next
hour held emotions between total despair to optimism ... which we always try to
bring into our situations ... but it wasn't until the agent's call telling us
the owner said we could stay, that leaps of joy danced through the flat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Large Patio</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 115%;">One last glass of wine on the patio, one last tapas meal made
in our kitchen and one last night in a flat that now had hot water, heat, a
fixed bed, a chair waiting to be fixed and memories of the time we lived in
London. We look forward to a future date of entertaining in our London home
again. Who knows who will visit us next time!</span></div>
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Coming Next- Boot Camp in Europe!</div>
<o:p></o:p>Roger McGuinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00238284241360672020noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13356327.post-78810190452237533892014-08-26T04:38:00.002-05:002014-08-26T05:10:30.534-05:00Roadie Report 68 by Camilla McGuinn. A Train, A Ship, A Taxi, A Bridge Over Troubled Water and BOOT CAMP!<div style="background: white;">
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<span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: large;">It was the best of times and the worst of times. It was a dark and stormy night...it was an ADVENTURE!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">When we hugged Laraine goodbye, we were confident that she and Phil understood the gadgets that ran our house. The solar panels, the newly installed electric hurricane shutters and the outside kitchen.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">We arrived at the new Winter Park Train station with plenty of time to appreciate the quaintness of that small town. </span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KZX-684CUHo/U_xN0_KbpVI/AAAAAAAAB1k/hJNVDZlMTUA/s1600/P1000988.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KZX-684CUHo/U_xN0_KbpVI/AAAAAAAAB1k/hJNVDZlMTUA/s1600/P1000988.JPG" height="166" width="320" /></span></a></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Train 98 to New York's Penn station was a familiar one but this time our ride over the rails was the smoothest ever. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Waking from our overnight trip we stretched with a sigh of contentment from a restful dream time.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">The secret to getting a taxi from Penn station is to request a redcap to meet your train. He is able to take you to the front of the taxi queue but sometimes you do have to wait for him to arrive.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Boarding the Queen Mary 2 in Brooklyn was like coming home. Roger was greeted with enthusiasm by the baggage handlers. The fans in New York have always been a boost to our moral. Someday I think I will write an entire BLOG on the delightful encounters we have had with them.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bQpcRi6CoxM/U_xPVkDtjeI/AAAAAAAAB14/o_V8efdnLNc/s1600/P1010009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bQpcRi6CoxM/U_xPVkDtjeI/AAAAAAAAB14/o_V8efdnLNc/s1600/P1010009.JPG" height="320" width="242" /></span></a></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Once onboard, our habit is to drop our bags in our stateroom, head for the dining room to find our table for the voyage and enjoy the first meal of our journey. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">The Queen Mary 2 is a small neighborhood filled with interesting people and one of the delights of a voyage is getting to know the people. We always ask for a large table.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Our<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><b>maitre d'</b><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>gave us a table for six. After the staff introduced themselves our table mates began arriving. Gerta and Herbert were going to Hamburg to see Herbert's home town. Bill and Marilyn were cruising round trip on the Queen Mary 2 with stops in Norway’s Fjords. Their seven children now joked that they had no idea where mom and dad were these days.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">It took about two nanoseconds for all of us to realize that the<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><b>maitre d'</b><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>had matched us perfectly. Before the lunch was over, Bill, a retired mathematics teacher and high school coach, had a word puzzle for us to decipher. We all sat there an extra long time trying to figure it out. Initially, I was concerned that Gerta and Herbert might be put off because English was their second language, but they jumped into the challenge faster than we did.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZrF-pX4cGsw/U_xP23TT3xI/AAAAAAAAB2A/6uM8-zlqFPE/s1600/P1010032.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZrF-pX4cGsw/U_xP23TT3xI/AAAAAAAAB2A/6uM8-zlqFPE/s1600/P1010032.JPG" height="320" width="275" /></span></a></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #3d85c6;">Over the course of 8 days we learned so much from our new friends.</span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #3d85c6;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #3d85c6;">Gerta and Herbert live in Winston Salem, NC which is a short distance from all my relatives. The</span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"> stories of their lives are fascinating. A friend of Herbert's even wrote a book about his life. They were taking a copy of it to Hamburg for one of his nephews. I begged to read it. I told them that I read real fast and would have it back to them quickly. I even took it to Roger's lectures to read while I waited for the lectures to begin.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Reading Herbert's life story was as eye opener for me. Just as in the sixties when young men were trying to find ways out of the American-Vietnam War, Herbert was trying to find ways out of joining Hitler's war. He and his father figured that if he joined the Navy, he might have a chance of surviving the war. As WWII reached its last days, he walked into an American camp and surrendered. Not all Germans were Nazis! The reality that nations go to war at the cost of the young lives always hits me square in the face.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">The July 28th crossing on the Queen Mary 2 had dual purposes. The main one was to get us to Europe for a tour that would finish in November. While onboard Roger would give two lectures. I always tell folks that Roger's concerts are the sound tracks to his lectures. The lectures include photos and video clips from the 50+ years of his career.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Once we reached England, Roger had radio and press interviews to promote the concerts that were scheduled for Belgium, Germany, Austria, England, Wales and the Netherlands.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">The twenty days in London presented an interesting challenge.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">A few years ago we spent 15 days in San Francisco in a condo I found for us on Nob Hill. I was sure we could recreate a similar experience in London. I scoured the internet until I found what I thought would be the quintessential English experience.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">I found a site that had a flat in Kensington with some of the quirkiest photos I had ever seen. I wasn't sure Roger would be comfortable for 12 days with some of the fixtures, but when he saw the interior shots, he immediately told me to book it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bFNiDYFHypA/U_xRxKi8CLI/AAAAAAAAB2M/-fFlCUJ9_oU/s1600/IMG_0709.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bFNiDYFHypA/U_xRxKi8CLI/AAAAAAAAB2M/-fFlCUJ9_oU/s1600/IMG_0709.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">The Kensington Flat</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">The flat wasn't available for all of our London time but we had lots of Marriott and Hilton frequent guest points, so I bookended the stay at the flat with several different hotels.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"> </span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">While moving from one hotel to another, I put a bottle of water in my handbag. I didn't notice, the cap was loose. When we got to our new room, my iPad and camera were now pieces of hardware that didn't work. My only gadgets still working were my iPhone and my computer. Life just got simple.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">The day we were to move from one of the hotels to the Kensington flat, a 100 mile bike race was taking place in London. We needed to get to the other side of the Thames. After a long wait, the doorman found a taxi driver who had just begun his day. Unfortunately, he hadn't done his homework. Every bridge he went to cross over the Thames was closed for the bikers. The meter kept ticking higher and higher. Finally we came to another closed bridge and the driver said, "It's a shame you have this luggage. Your flat is just over the bridge."<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">The meter was reading 40 GBP = $68.00. We took one look at each other and nodded. We could do it. Our bags consisted of two small roll a-boards, two computer bags, two guitars and two small bags for miscellaneous items such as a dead iPad and camera.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">As the taxi pulled away, we loaded the roller boards with the clever way we had devised for moving our bags throughout Europe on the trains.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">The initial walk over the bridge was up hill. That was the first time Roger commented, "We're in boot camp!"<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Going downhill was easier, but the weight of the bags was cutting off the circulation to our fingers. Stopping every block to change hands became a necessity.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hhJOCfFX_RI/U_xNI7Q9kCI/AAAAAAAAB1c/YLDwyzWcitI/s1600/IMG_0549-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="clear: left; float: left; font-family: inherit; font-size: large; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hhJOCfFX_RI/U_xNI7Q9kCI/AAAAAAAAB1c/YLDwyzWcitI/s1600/IMG_0549-001.JPG" height="296" width="320" /></span></a></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Roger turned on his GPS and realized that our flat was not just over the bridge, it was almost 2 miles away and there wasn't a taxi in sight.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Block by block we made slow progress. Thankfully the morning rain had ceased, but now it was warm. Roger was wearing his hat and suit. And still no taxi in sight. The GPS said we still had 1.2 miles to go.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">After another ten minutes of pulling bags over rough streets and sidewalks we reached a residential neighborhood. I spotted a family getting out of a car that looked like a vehicle for hire but didn't have a taxi light. I approached the driver and asked if he was for hire. He initially ignored me. Being desperate, I followed him and began telling him our tale of woe. Finally he turned, slowly looked at me and asked, "Where are you going?" Roger showed him the GPS which now stated we had .8 miles to go. He sighed, "I will take you."<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">As we passed block after block, I almost cried. It would have taken us hours to get to where we were going. When we arrived at the flat, I asked the driver, "How much can I pay you?"<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>"Nothing." He helped unload our bags. I didn't have a CD with me because the guests on the Queen Mary 2 had purchased all of them. I offered to put him on the guest list for our London concert at Cadogan Hall. He just smiled and drove away.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span background:="" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;" white=""><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">We were home at last! At least our home for the next 12 days, or so I thought.</span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">More boot camp to come.....</span></div>
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Roger McGuinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00238284241360672020noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13356327.post-19233179350857732822014-06-10T10:24:00.002-05:002014-06-11T05:16:32.317-05:00Roadie Report 67 by Camilla McGuinn - A Minute in Time<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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On the road, a day can seem like a minute.<br />
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We stopped in Washington, DC to add a voice to some injustices in our Copyright laws. It meant we had to leave home a week earlier than we’d planned for our tour of the northeast but it gave us more minutes to spend on the roads of America.<br />
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Traffic congestion is something we always want to avoid and fortunately from experience we know how. Instead of taking Interstate 95 straight to Washington, DC we slice northwest on Interstate 26 to Columbia, SC, then take Interstate 77 to Interstate 81. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Natural Bridge, Virginia</td></tr>
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Traveling through the mountains of Virginia, we pass through the towns of my teenage years, marveling at the beauty of the Shenandoah Valley and sometimes stopping at Natural Bridge, VA.<br />
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After talking and shaking hands with many Congressmen, we headed northeast to Nazareth, PA to visit the Martin Guitar factory. There is nothing like a tour of that wonderful factory. It is a joy to see their museum and to smell fine woods being crafted into some of the prettiest and best sounding hand made guitars in the world.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hxjL9thmOCU/U5cYT9Taz2I/AAAAAAAABuo/z43u9lpT2Nw/s1600/P1000857.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hxjL9thmOCU/U5cYT9Taz2I/AAAAAAAABuo/z43u9lpT2Nw/s1600/P1000857.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a>There were still minutes before the first concert at the beautiful theater in Northampton , MA, The Academy of Music. We stopped at one of our favorite hotels, The Sheraton Lincoln Harbor, on the west side of the Hudson in Weehawken, NJ. There was just enough time to catch the ferry, then the ferry bus to Café Fiorello for a late lunch. We always sit at the antipasto bar and have a wonderful time meeting the regulars who come almost everyday. This day we met Angelica. <br />
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Angelica was born in Germany just before WW2. Her father was a musician and worked very hard to shelter the musicians he worked with. I have just begun studying the German language on The Word of the Day <a href="http://www.transparent.com/word-of-the-day/today/german.html?date=06-10-2014">http://www.transparent.com/word-of-the-day/today/german.html?date=06-10-2014 </a>website because of our upcoming German tour in September. Funny thing though most Germans speak better English than Americans. To my amazement, I have fallen in love with the beauty of the language. I had always thought it was a harsh language, but after hearing and reading a few words, I realized it is sweet and logical. I can almost understand some of the words I read.<br />
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Just before leaving Café Fiorello ,we introduced Angelica to the lady sitting on our right. Being a regular of the restaurant, she had seen Angelica but had never spoken with her. When we left they were chatting away.<br />
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We moseyed our way (that’s southern talk for going slow) up a hundred miles to another favorite little stop in Fishkill, NY. Nothing real special, but a comfortable room and a good meal within walking distance.<br />
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The theater in Northampton is one of those wonderful ancient Vaudeville theaters that went through the degradation of having its floors covered with gum and popcorn from moviegoers, to being restored by folks who realized that theaters are worthy of preservation as historic buildings. Roger walks on the stages of those theaters and asks. ”Did George Burns play here?” His dressing room was next to Elizabeth Taylor’s and Richard Burton's!<br />
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When Roger performs concerts we are very aware that folks come to hear the songs that were the sound track of their lives. Everyday at lunch we discuss the upcoming show and discuss what songs and stories he will perform. We had particularly difficult choices to make for this show. All the hand shaking in Washington, DC did put him in contact with a cold virus. He could barely talk. Of course we prayed and sent out emails to friends who know the power of prayer. As we discussed the songs, we remembered tunes that were in lower registers that wouldn’t strain his voice. There is a great danger of singing when vocal cords are compromised… a singer can lose his voice. We had to decide which songs to sing. The set list that evolved was fun. I hadn’t heard “It’s Alright Ma” in years!<br />
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That night he sang with joy! A couple who often follow Roger to all his shows came up to me and said they loved the lower vocal range he was using. I didn’t tell them he had a cold because it might have dampened their enjoyment. They also told me that they decided to get married the next week right there in Massachusetts and Roger’s concert was the catalyst for the happy event! <br />
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After the Northampton concert, we had one more special minute. Since Roger was still coughing we decided not to inflict the friends that we were going to visit, but stopped at the beautiful Saybrook Point Inn, in Old Saybrook CT.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two Rocking Chairs in the shade.<br />
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Our arrival on the beautiful June day was just in time to sit on two rocking chairs in the shade and watch a wedding. Marriage is a beautiful celebration. Our smiles stretched from ear to ear as watched from the officiator’s view of the couple committing their lives to each other. We were caught by surprise when the officiator came up to us after the ceremony and asked if Roger would sign their marriage license as a witness. It was a delightful and humbling experience. Within the course of two days our lives were touched by lovers sealing their love.<br />
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The day after the wedding, we had a "minute" to enjoy a rainy day lunch before driving to Phoenixville, PA for a return appearance at the Colonial Theatre on June 12, 2014 ... the theater used in the original filming of my first horror film "THE BLOB"<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A rainy day lunch at the Saybrook Point Inn</td></tr>
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Roger McGuinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00238284241360672020noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13356327.post-60205396359468108392014-05-30T14:56:00.002-05:002014-05-31T07:54:34.380-05:00Roadie Report 66 by Camilla McGuinn - Back to Capitol Hill!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It always amazes me how things happen. On May 15, I received an email from Peter Frampton's management saying that Sound Exchange wanted Roger to attend an important event in Washington, DC this month.<br />
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Sound Exchange is the only avenue for performing artists to receive any royalties for songs they have recorded and are being used by radio and internet services. Prior to 1995
performing artists were not entitled to receive payment for the public
performance of their sounds. Frank Sinatra tried for years to get a performance royalty for artists, but the clout of the publishing and music industry was even stronger than that of the rather powerful Mr. Sinatra.<br />
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Roger's royalty payments from Sound Exchange suddenly took a deep dive. We were so busy in the last year, that I didn't have time to find out why. When I contacted Linda, the representative who wanted to talk with me, I realized what had happened.<br />
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The last change in the Copyright laws left a loop hole for services like Sirius XM and Pandora. They interpeted it as a right to use all recordings prior to 1972 for free and to pay no performance royalties to the artists who made the songs a hit. I find the year 1972 very curious. Why would they pick that year. Could it be that the catalogue of the songs from the 1950s and 1960s is steeped with classics and there are generations of people who listen to them? Who had that power to pick that year for the Copyright law? That year not only is stopping performance royalties it also touches the writers of songs.<br />
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Roger went to Washington in 2000 to appear before the senate Judiciary committee for the debate of "Is There an Upside to Downloading." It took him a nano-second to say he would go this time too.<br />
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The launch of the Project72 bill being sent to Congress was May 29. Since our plans were to leave on June 2 for a June 6 concert at the Academy of Music Theater in Northampton, MA, we decided to leave a week early to get to Washington DC to be a part of this important correction of an injustice.<br />
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An example of the injustice:<br />
In 1967 The Byrds recorded "So You Want To Be A Rock and Roll Star."<br />
In 1979 Patti Smith recorded "So You Want To Be A Rock and Roll Star." <br />
In 1985 Tom Petty recorded "So You Want To Be A Rock and Roll Star."<br />
Patti Smith and Tom Petty receive a performance royalty for "So You Want To Be A Rock and Roll Star.", the BYRDS do not!<br />
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When Roger told the Majority Whip of the U.S. House of Representatives, Kevin McCarthy, the above mentioned fact he was alarmed and declared it another "donut hole." A case of discrimination of the older generation.<br />
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That example isn't as big a deal for us as it is for some of the other artists from the 50s and 60s generation because we continue to work, thanks to fans who support live music, but there are artists for whom the rigors of the road make it essential to have those royalties paid. Some of the artists are no longer with us and now their children's legacy has been taken from them.<br />
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For years when the songs "Mr. Tambourine Man" and "Turn, Turn, Turn" were played on the radio, the BYRDS did not receive anything for those performances. Only the publishers and writers received money. It wasn't until the beginning of Sound Exchange that performers were given a small royalty. Now Sirius XM, Pandora and other businesses are denying those royalties because of a loop hole.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rNiuJgM5nIA/U4jgODrDV3I/AAAAAAAABs8/6CI8s9kYjBI/s1600/P1000800.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rNiuJgM5nIA/U4jgODrDV3I/AAAAAAAABs8/6CI8s9kYjBI/s1600/P1000800.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a>On May 29, 2014 in Washington, DC Roger attended a news conference for the RESPECT Act at the Rayburn
House Office Building. He joined a talented and passionate group of performing artists:<br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255,255,255,0);">Martha Reeves, of Martha & the Vandellas</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255,255,255,0);">Roger McGuinn, of The Byrds</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255,255,255,0);">Richie Furay, of Buffalo Springfield and Poco</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255,255,255,0);">Mark Farner, of Grand Funk Railroad</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255,255,255,0);">Gene Chandler, "The Duke of Earl"</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255,255,255,0);">Karla Redding, daughter of Otis Redding</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255,255,255,0);">Sam Moore, of Sam and Dave</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zzxluL6adTE/U4jgBgMBB4I/AAAAAAAABs0/pMA8gY9DpNY/s1600/P1000813.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zzxluL6adTE/U4jgBgMBB4I/AAAAAAAABs0/pMA8gY9DpNY/s1600/P1000813.JPG" height="257" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roger, Richie and Mark preparing for the launch of Project72</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255,255,255,0);">This is a bipartisan bill with 5 Democrats and 5 Republicans co-sponsoring it to date. It is a small 4 page piece of legislation. Please contact your local representatives and encourage them to become active in this correction of the copyright law.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lK5Bggsy4FI/U4jgbWZblCI/AAAAAAAABtE/Qnonzp4vFoo/s1600/P1000802.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lK5Bggsy4FI/U4jgbWZblCI/AAAAAAAABtE/Qnonzp4vFoo/s1600/P1000802.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Should read "Servants of the people!"</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255,255,255,0);">Congress can be slow, tell them to hurry!</span><br />
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Roger McGuinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00238284241360672020noreply@blogger.com