I can write about autumnal leaves or the harvest of squash and pumpkins stacked down there in the shed or all our canned tomatoes, and I can write about art and song and literature, but also at the end of the day one of our little family businesses is me trying to sell things I make. And when you spend a morning as I just did–sorting through orders, doing bookkeeping, reading the kind notes some folks include with their orders–you are moved to say thank you not just for the ineffable bits of this existence (and the day is blessedly filled with them, like this morning when I stepped out of the office and sleet hit my bald head and I thought, “Well there’s the opening line to next week’s newspaper column”) but to also acknowledge the frank small business elements of this thing. Even beyond our own mortgage and health insurance, some of what you spend trickles into the pockets of other friends and freelancers and the coffee shop next to the venue and the booking agent and the bass player and the guy who fixes the van and so on and so forth. Everything’s so big and loud these days (and lest I sound too artisanal understand I’m prepared to put myself at risk handling BIG LOUD CHECKS should they ever arrive), but here we are with our odd little family endeavor that exists somewhere between the mysteries of the universe and the old corner store. So thank you. Thank you, and in the spirit of frankness, here’s a link to the new music.
And here’s a link to all the rest.
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