The Goot Blog

Yesterday Karen sent me the latest Salon.com piece from my perennial favorite Garrison Keillor. I thought these couple of excerpts were worth sharing. (Who knows? - maybe because my pre-adoption last name happened to be Burger.)

Paranoia belongs to the fringe right and left, not to genteel burghers like you and me. We sit under our fig tree and enjoy our cheeseburger without brooding too much about toxic chemicals used by meatpackers or thought-control drugs injected into the beef. Every morning in the newspaper, some columnist cries out in alarm that yet one more disaster is creeping toward us like a cougar about to spring and chew our throats, and we read a few paragraphs and turn the page and warm up another Danish...

Meanwhile we have this classy family in the White House, overachievers but gracious about it, mischievous kids and a smart man and a woman who sometimes tosses him glances that say, "Oh, just get over yourself." What their presence says about the decency and generosity of this country is huge, friends, just huge. Rejoice, America. Je suis Americain. Ich bin ein Amerikaner.

Today is playwright Anton Chekhov's birthday. At some point in his life, he passed on these words of wisdom: "Any idiot can face a crisis; it is this day-to-day living that wears you out."

Also, I today, I heard from my eco-karmic brother Mark Brown who is currently in Southern California taking care of his 86-year-old mother who recently fell and broke her sacrum. His observation: "Older age is not for the faint of heart."

On these cheery notes, I bid you a good and happy January 29th.

Back in November, we spent a week with Karen's brother and sister-in-law in Lincoln, CA., where they live in a sprawling Sun City development. When they first moved there, we gave them enormous shit about it, but every time we've visited, we've been more and more impressed. While the place is huge -- we frequently get lost in the endless maze of dead-end end streets lined with look-alike homes -- the developers have preserved huge swaths of green space and created miles of attractive walking/running trails for the use of residents and guests. The coolest thing they're doing, we discovered on one early morning stroll, is maintaining the green spaces with a roving flock of sheep and goats. The Sun City folks have apparently contracted with a local rancher who brings the livestock, along with hundreds of yards of lightweight, portable electric fencing, to a different section of the Sun City property each day. The sheep and goats then graze happily for several hours -- effectively operating as low-wage, baahing and shitting lawnmowers -- and then move on to the next tract. Over the course of several months, they can take care of all the green spaces in an efficient, eco-friendly way.

The morning we encountered them, the flock included a bunch of cute-as-hell, less-than-week-old lambs, which quickly attracted an oohing and ahhing gaggle of old folks like us. We shot this video of one little guy searching for his mama and then enthusiastically enjoying breakfast on the hoof. Enjoy!

Some of my favorite people in the world, including the Miz, have labored in the food service industry, waiting tables for tips. A fast-paced, but often thankless job... especially at the diner and pancake house end of the food chain. Awhile back my friend Jim Sobeck turned me onto a funny and insightful blog entitled Waiter Rant, which I read faithfully for several years. Now the previously anonymous author has woven his blog entries into a book, also entitled Waiter Rant, my Christmas present from the aforementioned Miz. Since I know many of you enjoy cooking and eating as much as I do, I thought you might appreciate this excerpt from the Preface:

"Today waiters are expected to be food-allergy specialists, sommeliers, cell-phone-rule enforcers, eye candy, confessors, entertainers, mixologists, emergency medical technicians, bouncers, receptionists, joke tellers, therapists, linguists, punching bags, psychics, protocol specialists, and amateur chefs. Foodie-porn TV prgramming has generated a new class of entitled customers with already overblown culinary expectations and a rapidly diminishing set of social graces. Economists say that the restaurant business is a bellwether of the nation's mental health as well. And let me tell you, 20 percent of the American dining public are socially maladjusted psychopaths. We should start putting Prozac in the Perrier."

As I raise a glass of our under-$10 house Chardonnay, let me say, "Here's to all my table waiting friends, past present and future. You're my heroes.

Each January, for the past three years, our friends Warren and Tuli have invited us to join them at Mama Mia's restaurant to hear Willie & Lobo, who got the professional start here but now return only once a year for a series of sold-out shows. It's a tradition we've come to cherish. I'm not sure it's possible to capture their manic energy without being there in person, but this somewhat dark video snippet might give you a clue, and perhaps encourage you to plan a San Miguel visit in January 2010.

This week I heard from my multi-talented friend Mark Brown, a member of the Eco-Karmic Brotherhood with whom I shared numerous adventures in Costa Rica and on the Green River in Utah. He shared the following unattributed quote, which speaks to my soul, but doesn't yet make logical sense to my brain. But who cares, right? Inspiration and insight don't necessarily have to enter through the left side of our brains.

It takes a phantom heart to catch a cool breeze!

He also sent me photos of two new pieces of art he created using leaves he collected on a recent holiday visit to Sea Ranch, one of my favorite places in the world. I find them both amazing and wonderful... and hope you do too.

Phewwwww! I just turned 59, an undistinguished age if there ever was one. But what a surprise: this year, my typically lost-in-the-New-Year's-celebration-shuffle birthday has lasted nearly a month, thanks to an unusually gracious and party-loving group of friends. The festivities got kicked off back in mid-December with a surprise pre-birthday dinner and will come to a long-overdue end this afternoon with a long, tequila-infused lunch with members of my Guys' Group. In the middle, I made a couple of cool connections with Chicago, the city of my birth. First off, my drummer friend Rick introduced me to Al Bunetta, who was visiting with his wife Dawn from Nashville. Al, it turns out, heads up OhBoy Records, manages John Prine's career, and was Chicago legend Steve Goodman's manager and close friend. Between Christmas and New Year's we hosted a dinner party for them and were delighted by Al's treasure trove of "back in the day" music stories. Then at my post-birthday party this past Sunday, my friend Mary, perhaps the biggest Steve Goodman fan in Mexico, gifted me with a set of "the esential Steve Goodman" CDs. As we sat in the sun, listening to her favorite Goodman songs, we all agreed his "Ballad of Carl Martin" should be played at every birthday we celebrate in San Miguel. I wish I could find a link to the song on the Internet, but I couldn't. So all I can do is urge you to buy the album (Santa Ana Winds) from the OhBoy Records website, or simply enjoy the lyrics below:

You Better Get It While You Can

(The Ballad Of Carl Martin)

By Steve Goodman

I remember when I met Carl Martin,

It must have been a dozen years ago.

A spectacular gent, he was old and bent,

But his eyes had a fiery glow.

He was born April Fools Day, 1906,

Near Big Stone Gap, VA.

He could play a little fiddle

And some blues guitar he'd picked up along the way.

But once he got his hands on a mandolin,

He lit up like a Christmas tree.

Along with Ted Bogan and Howard Armstrong

They were the best string band I ever did see.

For fifty odd years they played rent parties

Road houses, concerts, festivals too.

At the drop of a hat these three black cats

Would play every song they knew.

It was 'Lady Be Good' and 'The Barnyard Dance"

And "The Ice Cream Freezer Blues".

They'd bring the oldest chestnuts out

And make 'am all sound brand new.

And the little white boys with their shiny guitars,

Would follow right along at their heels.

They learned the words and they learned the chords

But they never did get the feel.

Now I asked Carl once how he got the fire.

He said, 'Boy, you've got to understand,

If you want to be someone, you've gotta have some fun,

So you better get it while you can.'

(CHORUS)

You better get it while you can,

You better get it while you can.

If you wait too long, it'll all be gone

And you'll be sorry then.

It doesn't matter if you're rich or poor,

It's the same for a woman or a man.

From the cradle to the crypt

It's a mighty short trip,

So you better get it while you can.

Now Carl always had a way to make the good times roll

When the rest of us weren't so sure.

He'd just pick out the prettiest woman in the room

And sing every song to her.

One night back East when the gig was done

There was an all night blow-out jam.

We played and we sang and drank for hours,

Till the sun came up again.

It was blues and ballads, Ragtime, Dixieland and Swing,

Some old time show tunes.

And then Carl Martin sang some songs nobody else knew

And some I haven't heard since then.

Right before dawn he did two more songs

Just to separate the strong from the faint.

It was a red-hot rendition of "The Old Pine Tree"

And a double-time version of 'The Saints'.

And when they were done those of us who could still breath

Took off our hats to that man.

Carl played us under the table that night

And he said, 'You better get it while you can'.

(REPEAT CHORUS)

You better get it while you can,

You better get it while you can.

If you wait too long, it'll all be gone

And you'll be sorry then.

It doesn't matter if you're rich or poor,

It's the same for a woman or a man.

From the cradle to the crypt

It's a mighty short trip,

So you better get it while you can.

You know Carl and his buddies never got too far,

When he died Martin didn't have a dime.

He was a little behind on his payments,

And a little bit ahead of his time.

Last week a group of us so-called musicians

Sat up real late and burned one down.

The liquor kept coming and we kept strumming

Till a minute or two before dawn.

There were some who stayed and some who faded,

Till soon I was left all alone.

I don't believe in ghosts - but I could swear

I heard Carl Martin sing one more song.

(REPEAT CHORUS)

You better get it while you can,

You better get it while you can.

If you wait too long, it'll all be gone

And you'll be sorry then.

It doesn't matter if you're rich or poor,

It's the same for a woman or a man.

From the cradle to the crypt

It's a mighty short trip,

So you better get it while you can.

The second song I need to share with you as we careen into this challenging new year, also captures an esential piece of the San Miguel spirit. We dedicate it to all of you intrepid souls who've been down here to visit us... especially our friend Don Howard and Karen's sister-in-law Bonnie. You can enjoy watching Steve Goodman perform it here.

So with the spirit of Steve Goodman guiding us forward, the San Miguel Goots wish you all a safe, prosperous and joyful 2009!