last day in New Orleans


I can't believe I'm here. 

I can't believe this all came to be that in the month of January, after my December of silence when the bottom dropped out on my show schedule and I joined the church choir instead, after that, and more, I never ever thought that only a few weeks later my little Aidan would be gone and I would be airlifted out of the grief of his death and set down in the full immersion of a music conference in one of my favorite cities in all the world. 

You made this happen. 

My blog readers, and my daily practice of writing this blog, this has become the backbone of my spiritual and musical journey. 

After speaking with so many songwriters and artists the last few days, I see that my daily blog is one of the most special things I do with my fans and friends and supporters. 

Without this blog I don't think I would have a way to keep people engaged in my artistic dreams and goals. 

I wouldn't be able to suddenly bring everybody up to speed. 

I told several artists and industry people in the last few days that many of my fans write to me privately on my website which goes to my email. 

Many will write and say they hope we got home from Europe safely. 

They'll write and ask about Aidan, and now they write expressing their sympathy. 

The easiest, but also the most meaningful way I can respond to them all is to answer them, but to also say, "read my blog post from yesterday or from this morning" because it talks in much more detail about what they're asking. 

This blog is an art form, a communication path, a spiritual and mental health exercise. 

It's as much for me as it is for you. 

I look forward to writing it every single morning. 

I'm headed back tonight to the cold and the snow. 

I'm headed back to the grief and sadness of Rob's cozy house with all the light gone out of it. 

Nina has called in sadness and tears. 

Rob has called in terrible grief stricken weeping. 

I'm going back to that now. 

There's talk of "buying Mom a puppy for her birthday". 

My birthday is coming February 13th. 

I'll be fifty-nine. 

I'm not sure a puppy is the right thing now. 

I've had dogs literally all my life and since college I've never not had at least one dog. 

Not to mention three children to raise and watch over. 

Right now I have no one to worry about, not in the way I was always worrying if Aidan was okay when I was on the road. 

I feel very free, if at the same time very sad. 

Maybe no dog will have to be the answer. 

But damn, I don't know how to go for a walk without that little guy on his little leash with all his enthusiasm for life leading the way. 

He led the way through airports, through Manhattan, through Central Park. 

I would order a coffee in Central Park and he would stand there on his leash refusing to move down the line until I said, "and the croissant please" because he loved the croissants in Central Park. 

The greatest little friend, sitting on my lap in taxis, riding with me in the passenger seat on solo tours all over America. 

He loved going camping in Rob's 1970 camper van to Northern Minnesota and Wisconsin. 

Okay, that's enough. 

I could write this all day. 

I gotta finish my grant proposal right now, it's due today. 

Then I gotta get out there in New Orleans one more time to busk because it finally stopped raining and somebody told me that Sun Country might charge me for my bag and for my guitar. 

I have the money for the hostel final bill, thanks to you. 

I have the money for the airport shuttle which is $25. 

But if the bags are going to be a lot, I may not have enough. 

I tell you! 

It's okay because my music and my fans are sustaining me in my pursuit of my dream and that is something to be so grateful for. 

This time in New Orleans was absolutely the greatest thing that could have happened. 

I hope to do so much in 2020. 

If I get this grant I'm applying for, this could be a bit easier, but with or without it, I'm gonna do all I can do! 

Love, one last gorgeous morning, from magical New Orleans.

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