September 2, 2026
August flew right on by…just like May, June & July. Funny how time works that way. It's been a fine summer. Many shows have been played, many fish have been caught. Couldn't beat the weather with baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire if you tried. I'm currently on the back end of a little pause for the cause trip to visit my parents, and then it's back up to Montana for 2 more months. The gigs slow down as the weather cools off, which is a downside to the seasonal nature of gig life in mountain states, but it's still more work than I'd have in Texas it seems. Market dynamics or whatever the hell business types call it…
As if all this relaxing (and strong drink) the past two weeks hadn't got me in a reflective enough mood, finding out yesterday that the great Wendell Berry passed on really did the trick. The man was our greatest living American writer, and I'll hear no arguments to the contrary. He was a farmer, a poet, an essayist, a novelist, and by all accounts, a true gentleman. And he did it all well. Lots of writers who dabble in both prose and poetry, their novels or short stories might be great but their poetry is a bit lacking. Or vice versa. Not the case with Wendell Berry.
I want to read & think & write a lot more about the man and his work, but I don't have the time at the moment. Honestly, I'd rather just talk about him with anyone who shared an appreciation and/or curiosity about the man, his life, his work. I will say this before I have to run, though, and then hopefully I'll come back to it sooner rather than later because I think it's extremely important here in the good ole USA in this foul year of Our Lord 2026--Wendell Berry did more than anyone else I can think of to get me thinking about Place, and the part we have to play in a place. He worked the land, but he was part of the land. It's something only farmers seem to understand anymore. And I don't mean the guys tilling thousands and thousands of acres to grow a monocrop of corn or soybeans. No disrespect to them. Well, maybe a little…
Anyhow, we lost a good one, but I'm grateful he left behind such a tremendous legacy. I hope his ideas continue to light thousands of little fires in the hearts and minds and souls of new readers in the days ahead because we need it. The hour is getting late.