Well here I am, and I’ll be damned.

It’s hard for me to believe it’s been 30 years since I first walked out on a stage with my guitar. In my younger days (which I did my best to extend as long as possible) me, my band, and the surrounding crew were a real handful. We were rarely if ever legal, and at times I guess you could say we lived like complete outlaws. But we never hurt anyone, and showed a lot of people a damned good time. I certainly feel lucky to be alive. As a good and wise friend put it best, (we were all trying to live like Hunter S. Thompson, but he was the only one it really worked for). Amen. I’ve pretty much put those days to bed now, but not completely. You can still count on me stirring up a little trouble here and there.

I fell in love with American Roots music at an early age, and I’ve been proud to do my own small part in its preservation and perpetuation. It’s pretty much been my life and will continue to be. In my travels around the country, I’ve had the pleasure of performing for so many wonderful crazy folks, and your kind words and encouragement have kept me going in this difficult business. You all know who you are, and I thank you.

So here’s to all the cowboys, hippies, bikers, pushers, punks, freaks, jugglers, smugglers, gamblers, bartenders, waitresses, hobos, deadheads, farmers, charmers, truckers, highway men, confidence men, confident women, pickers, drummers, smokers, jokers, roadies, groupies, and gurus that have comprised the cast of this very strange movie that has been my life. I should write a book, but nobody would believe most of it.

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