Going Back to Michigan

...specifically to Three Rivers, a small town south of Kalamazoo where every August so many of my friends and I gather to make music and find peace.

I couldn't make it to last year's "Summer Camp for Big People" (that's what we've called it from the start) because of illness. This year, however, because of the great hearts of a few of these dear friends of mine (Carla Overduin, Bill Bosler, Mj Bishop, Bobby Pennock -- am I missing anyone?) I get to go. Not without trepidation. I'm a little crippled now. Sometimes when I try to walk, I fall down, so I have to use a cane or a wheelchair. My voice is gone, so there will be no singing for me. And my hands don't follow direction, so I won't be playing the guitar.

But joy outweighs this fear. So many friends to see -- Monte, Uncle John and Meg, Molly and Riely, Kevin and Sue, Linda Hicks, Mike and Pam Byers, Karyn Goff, Patti McGee. Mj Bishop is driving up from Nashville. Joe Peters is coming in from California. Bunch of other people whose faces I see but names I forget. So there will be music. I just won't be one of the humans making it.

One year at Summer Camp I stood by the lake and tried to count the stars. I didn't get very far before my eyes rebelled, but I can tell you there are more stars there above Three Rivers than in any other sky on earth. And they give you peace, these stars. If you listen closely, you can hear them whisper. So distant and yet so close. Never mocking mortals. Never condescending as they could be. But soothing, full of empathy for those who suffer loss.

I won't attempt to count them again. What would be the purpose? Instead when I go out at night I will merely stand there and let their song tell me what comes next. At least that's what I'm hoping for. Tell me what journey follows this one, what mystery hides inside the next egg that will soon break open. Whether darkness or light, I've made myself ready for either answer.

Teach me your mood, O patient stars.

Who climb each night, the ancient sky.

leaving on space no shade, no scars,

no trace of age, no fear to die.

— Ralph Waldo Emerson

Yes that, and nothing more.

I guess that's all to say for now except thank you Bill and everyone else who made this trip possible for me. It means more than you could possibly know.

Good night, and I'll see you soon.

Mike