Good Times
This is a very quick post as I’ve got to get back to work. But knowing that some of you only follow us via the blog, a few recent shout outs. And yes, a bigger post to come.
It’s been a week of good times.
I’ve started my new job at WNKU-FM and am very much in my element and incredibly happy. That’s not to say the days of yesteryear in advertising were dreadful, but I realized I grew out and away from that daily environment. As I said in my resignation, “It’s not you, it’s me.” Still, lots of love to the crew at Creative Department as they are incredible people.
Brandon has rounded out his final classes of the term and is getting set to take exams and come home for break. He’s still very jazzed about what he is doing and doing incredibly well in the process. Knowing his drive is all about caring for people and assisting them at what could be their scariest moments is something that still makes us take great pause and feel overwhelmed with pride.
Jameson has transitioned to the High School in great stride and secured a place once again on the varsity bowling squad. His average continues to climb higher and the team is currently first place in their division. And darn if he doesn’t look good sporting his varsity ‘H’ on this school jacket. He continues to dabble in music and drool over cars. Oh, the plan to get that ’66 Mustang with Dave is still going strong.
Tessa is our funky girl and so excited with the coming of Christmas. She believes with so much enthusiasm that any Scrooge near her would certainly melt. She’s doing well in fourth-grade — reading up a storm, playing basketball and writing for the journalism club at school. Her energy is infectious.
And that brings me to Dave and really the main reason I needed to post today. Yesterday was supposed to be his semi-annual oncology appointment — you know, the time when he gets the results of his scans and such. As fate would have it, his doctor was unable to be in the office and needed to reschedule for next week. And before you say, “No way! No fair!” the kind nurses at the office were able to tell him that his scans all looked good and his status was stable. Woot! Remission remains. We’ll let you know if we learn anything more next week…
Until then, keep up the love, light and laughter. Enjoy the season as you celebrate it and despite what the big world may be doing out there, continue to celebrate your own little good times. They, in the grand scheme of things, are really what matter. ~ Jacqui
From Dave: Time in a Vacumm
Inspired by a great weekend, here goes…
I have not written over the past year or so out of both fear and selfishness. So many things have happened (good and bad) but the outcome is something I would never ever change. I have lived and learned more than I ever thought possible after going through treatment.
This summer was by far the best time I have ever had — which is a grand statement.
Natural Bridge, Red River Gorge, Kentucky July 2012
After breaking free from all meds, I hiked to the top of Natural Bridge with James (twice), spent a great week playing in the ocean with family, ran the Hudy 7K with J and “re-invested” in a drum kit so I could play once again with great friends this weekend. I am blessed for sure.
I spent this Thanksgiving weekend with family and friends. During meals, family fun, and other outings everyone asked how I and the family were doing. Not just a “hey, how’s it going?” thing but instead a true request for info. It really hit me when my good friend Jim asked, “So, I read all the posts from the past, but really, how are you?” What a beautiful thought this was. You see, Jim and his love, Lora, had great news of a baby on the way. But his mind was on me and my stuff.
Friends.
You know the kind of people you can be away from for years at a time but once together they seem to “stop time” in a way this is extremely rare. Well this weekend was just that. This came at a moment when no one but myself and maybe Jacqui (because she can read me like a good book) could realize and I am so grateful.
Tuesday the 27th is my next round of scans. Over two years removed from the original diagnosis but somehow, the fears and stress do not diminish. I so wish they would, but I can’t free my brain from the “what if” thoughts. That said, I know that whatever my scans on Tuesday bring, I am in beautiful company.
I feel great (which is so beautiful to say), and I still say this with caution, but it is true.
I hope this round of scans is clear. I also send positive thoughts each night to everyone in my big circle, who are supporting or fighting a battle of their own…
More to come from this strange and rambling post soon…
Peace and love to all and may the holiday and the new year bring us comfort.
d
Good-bye. Hello.
Summer is winding down. This family has been busy taking in the last of its carefree days while preparing for new life adventures. A week ago, we were driving back from Hilton Head — tan and sand encrusted. We quickly flipped some laundry and repacked the car to get Brandon to EKU mid-week. It didn’t take long for him to settle into his dorm room and reconnect with his buds. Such a different experience compared to a year ago but still, a few bittersweet seconds in there as we say good-bye to one phase and hello to another.
James and Tess also had many things to do — back-to-school haircuts, school supply shopping with Dave, orientation, etc. Their backpacks are ready to go and despite the fun of summer, they are looking forward to the academic routine. We have one going into high school and one going into fourth grade. It doesn’t seem right but then again, the years have been rushing past us.
Perhaps the biggest transition this summer was the ability to say good-bye to the shadows of cancer.
June was a tough month. It started with Dave getting a great report of continued remission but it blended into the last phase of pain management and full-blown withdrawal. While he still had pain in his back (sometimes debilitating, but he wouldn’t let you know that) Dave made the conscious decision to step away from all the prescribed pain killers. He didn’t want to live that way and honestly, things weren’t improving. Doctors weren’t helping his body re-calibrate. Instead, they were maintaining a dependency which, after he went through hell, we realized was an internal broken cycle of systemic craving inducing more pain. The process was slow — beginning in the early part of the year. As Dave stepped away from one prescription and tackled the tapering of a different one, he had to readjust and deal with plateaus as his body worked to keep up. But then “the event” happened. Due to a pharmaceutical shortage and a weekend delay, his prescription for the last bit of junk he was still on, couldn’t get filled. A body off schedule and lacking its ‘fix’ has a mind of its own. The withdraw had begun and Dave elected to ride it out. He wanted to be done. Mid-June into July was a blur as his whole system dealt with a nightmarish state. Plans we were making for summer were put on pause. While not cancer in its clinical form, this was, in my opinion, just as sinister and ugly. If you ever had to break any type of addiction and/or systemic dependency or were there with someone while they detoxed, you will know what a dark, scary, lonely and horribly excruciating road has to be traveled. To our friends and family who were there to help, I don’t believe there are words to express the gratitude we felt then and still do today. It was not what we had planned for those summer weeks, yet it was a necessary evil. Thank you for helping us through.
Dave took the opportunity of this medicinal break to seek out some alternative help. We had been researching acupuncture since spring but he had not had a chance to make an appointment. As things tend to work, the time was right and the right practitioner presented himself to Dave. The result? Well, exactly one month after the onset of withdrawal, Dave was able to hike up to Natural Bridge in the mountains of Kentucky. Twice.
He then was able to play like one of the kids on the beach for a week and kayak for miles. He’s now signed up to run the Hudy 7k with me next month. He laughs and smiles and nowhere in those actions are the spurts of pain he previously would try to shield behind his eyes. He’s back and he’s healthy — finally — in body, mind and spirit. It’s so good to see him this way. I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again — I’m one lucky girl to have him as my soulmate.
There will always be reminders of the past two years. We find things from that period tucked away in odd places in the house. We have loved ones and friends who are in the middle of their cancer treatments. Chatter of radiation and chemo will never go away. But they won’t have the same intensity.
Last night, we had a chance to finally watch the movie 50/50 — a gift from Brandon and honestly one of the best movies we have seen in some time. Let’s just say that if we had seen this in a theater full of people they would have thought we were deranged. We laughed out loud at scenes that most people would not see as ‘funny.’ We recalled times of fear. We remembered how sick Dave was. We yelled back at the characters on screen. And we said good-bye to it all. An odd way to close it down but so very us.
Yes, there will be check-ups and oncology appointments…continious scans and blood draws. But, there will not be the fear. The shadow of ‘Roger’ and its sinister pain parade have finally been diminished in our hearts and minds. We’ve conquered. We’re saying hello again to our lives. Living free is so much more fun.
So, with all that, I’m not sure where this blog is going next. We’ve got some trips to Nashville on the radar so most likely it will be back to its roots: crazy road trips and even crazier dreams. We’ll make sure to post from time to time. Read as you desire. Until then, take care and be good. Live, love and laugh. ~ Jacqui
Time to Float
Sometimes you need to check out for a bit in order to check back in.
Have you ever looked outside a window or run an errand at mid-day and seen people sitting on a bench? Have you ever wondered why they were there and more importantly, why they weren’t someplace else? Like say, their job?
Yesterday, Dave and I were those people… sitting on a bench by the river… in the middle of the day. By 1:00 each of us had texted the other saying similar: we couldn’t focus on any work in front of us. The minutes leading to the oncology consult were long. Scary long. Our minds were each going into dangerous places. So we made a call. We met in a parking lot and went someplace we’d never been together before down by the river. We sat and watched the barges. We wasted some precious paid time off but that was okay. It is what we both needed to do. When we did speak, it was in terms of odds and probability. We both knew that, statistically speaking, this is the time when the majority of people with Dave’s form of cancer (the classification he was given) have a relapse. Getting through this gate was important. Our senses were heightened because of Dave’s continual level of pain in the area where the tumor had originally been. The pain was the trigger that got him to the doctor almost two years ago.
Finally, it was time to go.
Walking into the oncologists office six months after the last visit was not as unnerving as some may suspect. It was good to see the staff — they greeted us with big smiles and sweet chit-chat. We took that as a good sign. It softened the edge.
Of course, our doc is the master of the poker face. Any time he walks into the exam room it is with the same level of measured calm. We get it. But still when he quietly says, “So, how are you?” and is holding an envelope, Dave can’t reply any other way than, “Well, perhaps you can tell me how I am?”
In doc’s words, the scans looked good. The cancer remains in control and there are no new instances of anything sinister showing up on the radar. The scar tissue seems to have shrunk even more within the past six months. He’s feeling good regarding how things are progressing. Remission status stays intact. And as with every discussion, more assurances come the closer Dave gets to late September 2013, the year three mark.
Of course, the puzzling thing is still the pain. Our oncologist said that generally at this point and with this type of cancer, the pain caused by the tumor’s residence is gone. So, more discussion about new ways to deal with it. The big assurance for Dave was that the pain didn’t mean it was back. The body is just taking it’s time to heal.
So what was learned and gained through all of this? Definitely some new perspective and hope that as the every six month scans and consults continue, the anxiety lessens. I don’t want to lose precious minutes, hours and days worrying about the what ifs. It is time to walk away from that and time to float. To enjoy. To not live life (or be afraid to live life) because of a date on the calendar that “could change things.”
Beating the odds at this level is a wonderful boost. Dave felt great with the news (as anyone in his shoes would) but even better about his overall prognosis. While we agreed that as silly as it was, sitting on a bench by the river was a good thing to do yesterday, but we will not repeat that sort of behavior come December. We’re going to work to release the monsters of our imaginations and take life as it is. Besides, it would be too cold. ~ Jacqui
The Weight of Waiting
Dave just left for his 18 month scans. We won’t know what they reveal until late Thursday.
His cancer, while in remission, is in a precarious period. I don’t say that to get attention or put a negative spin on things. It is a simple fact. You have to have a good, long string of clean scans in order to get the “free” sticker. So far he has two.
Ask any cancer fighter and he or she will tell you that scan day is not a fun day. Try as one might, it’s hard to get a good mental angle. We live in an instant society. Waiting for “the read” seems archaic and cruel. But that is the way it is.
There’s a jag in our rhythm right now. Is the unknown phantom still that — a wisp of nothing? Or, has it started to organize itself into a shape — something with dimension and heft? It makes me wonder when … if … this part of things will ever feel commonplace. I know there is nothing I can do right now to change things so it is best to just get on with the day.
We won’t know until Thursday.
Secret of Life
I woke with James Taylor’s Secret of Life in my head. It is songs like these and days like the past 24 hours that remind me that life is here to live today. To laugh today. To love today.
Yesterday I celebrated with Tessa as she completed Third Grade and rang in summer. The core primary years are complete.
Last evening I watched Jameson graduate from Middle School. The awkward speed bump of that period is over. 
Late last night I enjoyed conversing with Brandon — not as a youth among adults but as contemporary.
All in all, pretty darned cool.
There actually was a bigger post around this but for whatever reason, I accidentally deleted it while trying to publish. Call it blunder, call it fate. It doesn’t erase the fact that yesterday was a good day. Today and tomorrow may bring tears, anxieties, disappointments and that, too, is to be expected as part of the journey. But then again, those things may not happen. And that’s the secret, right? So, as JT reminds me… I’m going to enjoy the ride.
Secret of Life — James Taylor
The secret of life is enjoying the passage of time
Any fool can do it
There ain’t nothing to it
Nobody knows how we got to
The top of the hill
But since we’re on our way down
We might as well enjoy the ride
The secret of love is in opening up your heart
It’s okay to feel afraid
But don’t let that stand in your way
’cause anyone knows that love is the only road
And since we’re only here for a while
Might as well show some style
Give us a smile
Isn’t it a lovely ride
Sliding down
Gliding down
Try not to try too hard
It’s just a lovely ride
Now the thing about time is that time
Isn’t really real
It’s just your point of view
How does it feel for you
Einstein said he could never understand it all
Planets spinning through space
The smile upon your face
Welcome to the human race
Some kind of lovely ride
I’ll be sliding down
I’ll be gliding down
Try not to try too hard
It’s just a lovely ride
Isn’t it a lovely ride
Sliding down
Gliding down
Try not to try too hard
It’s just a lovely ride
Giving Cancer the Boot
I haven’t written anything public in awhile. I’ve been keeping things more inside of late. In the time since the last scans (holidays) and now I’ve been trying to figure out the rhythm of Dave’s remission so far. Let’s just say it is not as I thought it would be. Heck, none of this is how anyone thinks it would be. And perhaps it is the not knowing that helps you get through life’s changes. Think about it, if you knew, really knew, what was around the bend would you ever approach the bend? Heady stuff for pre-dawn I know.
The good news is that Dave continues to be in remission. There still is pain and I guess we won’t know for awhile if this is permanent damage from tumor aggrevation, radiation or a combo thereof. He’s made some conscious decisions to explore different methods of dealing with the cruddy leftovers that cancer leaves behind. Some days are good… some days are slow. But they are days and I am grateful to have them.
And if you know Dave, well, he doesn’t stop. He gives it his all. And this Friday will be no exception.
Once again, our incredible group of family and friends have rallied to relay with us in the 12-hour Relay for Life in Campbell County. This is one of many American Cancer Relays which take place all over the U.S. and around the world to raise both awareness and funds for cancer research, treatment and screenings. Relay started in 1985 and is a pretty incredible experience. If you have a second, read it’s quick history here. Once again proof of what one person can do with an idea.
If you will be in the Newport, Kentucky area this Friday night, swing by the track and say hello. The Nashville or Bust team will be decked out in its new finery (thanks, Jason for the design and Jameson for the screen printing awesomeness!) and doing its best to give cancer the boot. We’ll also be making pancakes from 11 p.m. to 1 a.m. as our on-track fundraiser. I can guarantee that these beat your momma’s pancakes hands down. I mean, pancakes always taste better at night in the fresh open air, right?
To read more about our team, here’s a link to its official page. Dave and I each have our pages in there, too. We’ll be livecasting the evening via FB and Twitter (my @redshoegirl account) so you can walk along with us wherever you are.
Never doubt for a minute that we wouldn’t be here had it not been for your continued expressions of love and support. Trust me, it is something I’ll be thinking about a lot as I lap the track and flip the stacks. Peace. ~ Jacqui
‘Tis the Season ~ 2011
A quick post to share some seasonal joy. Our year began a bit dark and uncertain. I don’t need to rehash it all. But it is closing with so much love and light and good stuff — we’re bursting. It feels great!
On December 1, Dave learned that his 6-month post treatment scans were clear. Roger — the sinister tumor that was — stayed away. Nothing new was lurking. What an incredible way to come off of our post-Thanksgiving fullness and enter December with a good dose of happy. And relief. We didn’t want to assume that we would get this result. I guess we’ll always go to each oncology appointment prepared to accept whatever news. But to watch Dave receive the word that yes things looked good was the best present ever. Year one is complete.
Dave used the good news (and the mild temps) to channel his inner elf-likeness. Lights, decorations, music, soup… everything he somewhat ‘missed’ last year he made up for in double-time. Before my eyes, our house took on an enchanted, bustling feeling. It’s been fun to just hunker down and enjoy every moment of it. And the tree looks quite awesome. I couldn’t resist taking a nap underneath its magical boughs with the cats. Mmmm… tree naps.
This burst of activity also became the catalyst for a new thing to try — crafting. We wanted to make something to express how much we appreciated those who stood by us throughout this crazy year. It took a bit of sourcing and several nights of therapeutic assembly but the end results make us smile. Behold — ornaments. 
The delicate wooden snowflakes represent how unique, beautiful and fragile each of us are. And snowflakes, when all bunched up together, are pure power. Ask Ralphie.
The lime green ribbon is for awareness of a disease that will always require some form of fight. Our club color, if you will. It reminds us of what we have learned about ourselves and each other. It helps us recall every person we have met along Cancer Road — those who still fight, those who support, those who work to heal and those who we remember with tenderness and gratitude. The ribbon unites us all.
The silver disk is of course the silver lining that every cloud carries. Engraved with the word ‘Believe,’ it symbolizes that which kept us all going and in many ways that which kept us sane. Small, strong, solid, ever-present and also easy to lose — it augments our little creation with the exact thing that got us to today. Never give up. Never stop. Believe.
So there you have it… a glimpse at what we’ve been doing and how we’re putting a bow on 2011. Brandon is home from college and James and Tessa are almost done with school. We’re anxiously looking forward to days spent together, visits with family and friends, new memories, old traditions, warm socks and maybe, if we’re lucky, a nice little snow.
Love, laughter and light to all. Peace. Happy Merry. Believe in the magic. It’s all good. ~ Jacqui
Thanks, Dad
Last weekend while at the park with Tessa, I watched children play, parents chat. The sky was blue, the air was crisp. It was a perfect laid-back Sunday afternoon. It was also a perfect snapshot of what a gift it is to live free — to be able to laugh and play in the sunshine without fear. I’m not über political and I have big issues with “war” but I do appreciate those who take risks to make sure T & I can have Sundays in the park in addition to many other things. I am grateful.
Whenever I see a person in uniform, I thank them. I was raised to respect our men and women in service and it comes easy. Oddly enough, I’ve never looked my father in the eye on this day and said, “Happy Veteran’s Day” although for his service I am grateful.
My dad enlisted right after high school and did a tour in Vietnam with the 101st Airborne. He made it to Sergent. He was seriously wounded (almost lost his leg) and has a Purple Heart. In my parents’ home there are flags and shadow boxes of his pins, bars and medals. As a little girl I remember wearing his old fatigues for various costumes. I spent hours poking around in an old cigar box of square pictures — you know the ones with the white borders and ruffled edges. I would stare at these faded images of young men banding together. Smiling. While I knew it was a bad situation, I always took comfort that they managed to find little ways to have a good time. My dad also had a combat dog when he was in Okinawa after his injury in theater. That was my favorite picture and I always wished that dog could have come home with him.
And that, really, is about all I know. Vietnam is something we don’t talk about — couldn’t talk about — probably will never talk about. That’s okay. I respect the distance. As he once said, it’s “his thing” — I didn’t need to know the details.
But I know he was there. And I know he was proud to serve because that is how he was raised. His homecoming was nothing like what we see on TV today and that, at times, is a bitter slap. Yet it doesn’t keep him from flying a flag every day and showing his respect. I sometimes wonder if that is hard for him to do. Nonetheless, while we have our political differences and crazy debates, I’m proud to be his daughter on this day.
Thanks, dad, for making sure that I can take your grandchildren to the park — and live free and easy. You had no idea back then what your service could mean.
Americana Music Festival and Conference, Day 3
Some days are just beautiful and some nights are just incredible. Friday was that way.
We woke up a bit slow as our clocks are working in reverse. Still reeling from the awards we decided to get out of the downtown grid for a bit and explore neighborhoods. Road trip within a road trip. Dig.
First on our list was to check out East Nashville, in particular the 5-points region. It’s a funky area filled with just about everything, including this:
Behold, the I Dream of Weenie microbus hot dog stand. We had a chance to talk with the Hot Dog man and we decided if timing works, we’re going to shoot back over for brunch on Sunday. It just proves that if you keep your concept central, really great things can emerge.
Right next to the microbus is Fanny’s House of Music. We decided to take a peek and boy were we surprised. Not only were there rooms of vintage guitars, amps and pedals but wouldn’t you know… vintage clothes, too. As I posted out on Facebook it was the perfect ‘His and Hers’ stop. 
Dave couldn’t resist picking a bit on an old National. The folks who came in and out of the shop were from the neighborhood — musicians, artists, young parents. It was neat to hang out and get a different perspective of the total Nashville scene. It isn’t all rhinestone and cowboy. There is edge here, too, but its all collaborative, creating a vibrant texture we’ve yet to experience in other places. 
So what do you go see after getting your hippie on? Well, you head west to the pastoral Natchez Trace in search of love. Yes folks despite the gooey pictures, we don’t have quite enough love between us. The magnet that I bought in the airport my first trip to Nashville in 2006 has been haunting us. It was time.
Destination: The Loveless Cafe. Desire: Biscuits and Country Ham. Expectations: Everything and Nothing. End Result: We don’t kiss and tell.
Even though we got there after lunch, the place was packed and Dave needed to eat. Lucky for us, we could order take-out and take advantage of the brilliant weather and handy picnic tables. It was an ideal way to soak up this landmark and treasure. We wondered who stayed in the motel 50 years ago. Honeymooners? Lonely hearts? Bank robbers? When the guitar comes back around you always need to give a nod to the bank robbers. It’s a rule.
Someday we’d like to come back and drive more of the 400+ mile loop of the Natchez Trace. Someday when we didn’t have a date night planned with our Buddy. On to music talk…
Now, I don’t know who has the bigger Buddy Miller crush… but Dave and I can’t get enough of this guy. It was a thrill and frankly, an honor, to see him accept his awards for both Instrumentalist of the Year and Artist of the Year at the awards show. We’ve seen him live two other times sharing the stage with amazing artists. We jokingly say we should ask Buddy and his wife Julie over for coffee and pie sometimes. We’d love nothing more than to just talk with him. He’s one of the most genuine and gracious people in the industry. And last night we had the chance to see him on stage with the dynamic and entertaining, Jim Lauderdale. So, while we were loving our respite we were also anxious to get ready for the Friday Night Showcase at the Cannery Ballroom.
The original line-up had a start time of 9:00 with Keb Mo. Buddy and Jim were scheduled at 10:00 and the North Mississippi All-Stars at 11:00. Not bad, right? It really was a fluke that I checked the website while we were getting ready because literally while we were noshing on biscuits, the music angels added The Secret Sisters to the line-up at 8:00. We first heard of the Secret Sisters early this year and I’ve probably spun their CD a zillion times. Theirs is one of those incredible ‘discovery’ stories and to have their first album produced by T Bone Burnett a stroke of excellent fortune. Dave and I had each voted for them as Emerging New Artist and were giddy to see them sing the previous night at the Ryman. The opportunity to catch them up-close and personal was our stroke of excellent fortune. It was great set and we loved the fact that they shared one guitar back and forth. Simple and beautiful. They previewed some of their new material as well as covered some of their favorites. Definitely ones to watch and enjoy for many, many years.
By now you know that almost every blog post is going to include one of those (in)famous ‘Dave and Jacqui Encounters.’ As the Sisters (what we call ’em) were winding up, they announced that they would be at their merchandise table to meet and great. Dave nudged me and said, “You should go say hello to the Sisters.” Why not, right? So, while he held our seats and Keb Mo was setting up, I wandered into the hall to wait and see if I could say hello and share with them our appreciation.
That’s what I was expecting to do and, while it did happen, sumptin-sumptin else happened, too. Jim Lauderdale arrived. Yeah, just like that. He was carrying his own guitar and walked right through the front door and into the lobby. I just happened to look up and see him and he was looking my way. It was bizarre as we were 5 feet from each other. I couldn’t be rude so I simply said, “Hello, Mr. Lauderdale” expecting nothing more than perhaps a nod. Boy, was I surprised when he said, “Why hello” and proceeded to thank me for coming to the show, hug me and kiss me on the cheek. (I’m still laughing as I write this because it was so … WOW.)
Laura and Lydia arrived a few minutes later. It was really nice just to let them know how much their music is enjoyed. They were sweet too and let me snap a photo. Beautiful people inside and out.
By the time I got back in the ballroom, Keb Mo was on stage with his son on drums. Dave had a funny look on his face and just shook his head. He was hoping to hear Keb play — and the drums were drowning him out. Then there was the issue with the lights… and his tuning… and the monitors. All in all, Keb was on stage for 22 minutes and they weren’t a good 22 minutes. The set was rescued when Keb saw one of his friends in the audience, Colin Linden who co-wrote “Life is Beautiful” with him. Keb invited him up to sing along and then surprisingly, handed his guitar to Colin. Zing! Without a warm-up or anything, Colin Linden smashed that song and had so much fun doing so. A big dose of sweet to counter-act the bitter. We’re glad we got to experience that otherwise it would have been a “Keb No” in our book.
A lot of people were disgruntled with the short set so they left to catch a different venue. This just made what was about to happen a bit more intimate. Buddy Miller and Jim Lauderdale took the stage along with the just-as-amazing Greg Leisz on pedal steel. It was an historic set because while these two have known each other for 30+ years and have shared a stage, they had never co-lined a full performance. In front of us were the Fathers of Americana doing what they do best — and if Jim Lauderdale’s kiss made me blush that hour of music had me on cloud nine. Dave, too. Buddy was just genuine and flawless. His voice can be so damned powerful and yet so sweet and gentle. Jim is just fun to watch. Their collaborations on both “Don’t Wait” and one of our favorites “Hole In My Head” had us stomping and grinning from ear to ear. 
If happiness had a sound it would have been that. And we were just two giddy happy campers in the midst of it all. Sparks were flying all around. And guess what? They took last night’s opportunity to announce that after all this time, they are going to make a record together. Hot Butter Yes.
We didn’t think we had it in us to take in the crush that was inevitable with the NMAS crowd so we decided to head back home. Again our heads were spinning. Two fools lucky in love life and music. It’s always great when you can end the night on such a high note. ~Jacqui
Nashville or Bust 
