Wonder Writer

Rain didn't stop the fun; Bill Murray, you're so cool (but, I already knew that). I am at Luck, Texas. I have been here all day as a volunteer. The rain didn't come until the middle of my shift when the fire marshal ordered everyone to duck and cover to our cars, to barns or to any place we could find. Some artists didn't leave. The show must go on- -literally. After all, they traveled miles to perform. They eventually performed in the barn, in set buildings, and in any warm and dry spot available. And, they had a stubborn audience- -willing to trot through mud-caked gravel to embrace soggy stages. The rains brought more mud-caked shoes, shivers and slip-sliding trails. The die hard fans stayed under shelter where they could find it, many walked to their cars and waited for the return signal. Some volunteers stayed at their posts. I had trouble leaving my post. I had the best spot. I got to move the barrier fences and greet entering artists, and later, I

The Saxon Pub feels like home. And because of it, I'm becoming a concert snob. There's just something extra-ordinary about the place. I mean, I like that it's ordinary and extraordinary too. Last night, I got to watch Zach Nytomt for the first time.  And, yes I spelled his name correctly. He said, "It's like N ew Y ork To M on t ana." He sang this Troubadour song. He said he wrote it on a smelly cat pee couch in a garage hiding away from noisy college roommates. Zach Nytomt plays at the Saxon Pub He told stories about working on 30-something acres within King ranch. His voice captured the sweet, the ugly, the all-of-it in life. His military jacket was iced with a French flag and his Cherokee-faced imprinted necklace made me think he had a few more stories to tell. The interesting thing too in this young rare talent was his humility and patience to tell the stories like we were his first audience and like he had all of the time in the worl