Just call me frosty

Why am I in Michigan? Humans weren’t meant to live in these conditions. It’s cold. It’s uncomfortable. It’s not pleasant. It’s the middle of October and we’ll probably have a blizzard any day now.

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As I look out at the grey, cloud filled skies and watch the birds that don’t migrate build little fires and huddle around them, I think on the ancestors before me who settled the Great Lakes region. I can’t help but wonder why. Let’s see: there’s Hawaii, there’s Arizona. There’s New Mexico. There’s Florida. There’s Venezuela. But not for ma & pa of yesteryear. “Hey ma…” “Yes pa?” “This here homestead in Californy provides a mighty hard life, don’t it?” “Yes pa.” “But clearly we don’t have it tough enough yet, huh ma?” “Yes pa, I do believe that’s so.” “We got to correct that, ma.” “Yes pa.” “Got to make this right ma.” “Of course, pa.” “Got me an idea, ma.” “Alright pa, what is it?” “Got to increase the misery by the correctly proportionate amount.” “I agree pa.” “To round out this hard life and make it perfectly miserable, we got to go where it’s cold. It’s what we deserve.” “You don’t say, pa!” “Yep. Can’t be having this comfort, we don’t deserve it.” “Darn tootin’, pa.” “Ma, I hear there’s a place where sometimes it drops into the 60′s mid-summer; where they can have complete cloud cover for 14 days at a time or longer; where this big lake causes it to rain, sleet, hail, snow, then be sunny, all within a two hour period on a July day; where summer ends suddenly like flipping off a switch; where it’s 40 degrees in October; where there’s snow and ice 5 months out of the year; where we can be in complete misery and really uncomfortable from late September right on into March…” “There really is such a place, pa? Can it be true?!” “Yes’m, there surely is, ma.” “That’s what we deserve, pa.” “Yes it is, ma. I’m too self conscious having this comfy climate we’re in now; it’s not fitting for this hard scrabble life we’re a livin’. People will think we’re gittin’ above our raisin’…we got to move to Michigan and enjoy the proper misery!” 

Is anyone else cold?

Consider this blog post a cry for help from a freezing banjo player. I’m trying to type with cold fingers, but it’s taking me awhile so you’ll have to read slowly. I often think of my brethren in the warm states and I get furiously jealous at their ability to play their banjos outdoors all year long. There used to be a bluegrass festival in Northern Michigan that took place twice a year: 4th of July and the first weekend of October. My band was hired to play there every year, and some Octobers were nice, but it got increasingly hard to look forward to this festival. The final year we played the festival, kids were out in the park building snowmen. SNOWMEN!! That ain’t right people. I remember being on stage and not being able to see the back of the concert area due to the sideways-driving snow obscuring my vision. The 5 people who came down to our stage show (thank goodness for family) had picked up a portable fire ring and carried it down to the foot of the stage, where they built a fire and huddled around it during our show. (That’s a true story.) I was hoping they’d start the stage on fire because I was freezing. Do you know how tough it is to perform wearing four shirts and two coats? I had to keep my fingers moving because if I stopped for long, they would freeze and I’d run the risk of breaking one of them off like an icicle.

Michigan has a handful of bluegrass associations spread around the state, and they do a great job keeping the music flowing throughout the winter at various indoor jams, but it’s such a shame to have to be forced indoors more than 6 months out of the year. I made a trip to Florida recently, where it was 90 degrees in October, and in hindsight I can see it was a mistake to go. It did nothing but breed contempt for this harsh, uncomfortable, unpredictable climate here in Michigan. I really didn’t want to leave that state. The memorial service that I held on the last day of my visit helped some, but not enough. I’m not sure if they’ll let me back in next time after the scene I caused. As I approached the ramp to board the airplane, I had a breakdown. I panicked and latched onto a door handle; I couldn’t let it go. Someone pried me away from that, but I broke free from them and ran back to the ticket agent. Lying prostate at her feet, clutching her legs tightly and screaming while she dragged me towards the gate, didn’t exactly endear me to the authorities. I did get an extra day in the state after screaming about seeing the four horsemen of the apocalypse trying to take me back to the snow and ice. Once I was examined thoroughly, they felt better about escorting me onto a plane the next day. In retrospect, I should have kept up with the mental illness routine. I might still be there.

The older I get, the more I hate the cold.

I hear tell that there are people who embrace the cold. I know, that seems hard to believe. I’m not kidding though; there are even people (or so I hear) who don’t live in a cold climate, but will actually SCHEDULE TIME TO BE IN THE COLD. They’ll climb mountains and sleep in tents in the middle of blizzards. They’ll go to Colorado and ski, spending weeks at a time in the cold. They’ll voluntarily move to Alaska. You know, I heard a statistic that mental illness strikes every 60 seconds in this country. Hmmm…the psychiatrists should be awful busy I guess, considering the nut cases who willingly subject themselves to the misery of the cold. There’s a sore subject for me: I went to a psychiatrist once to try and find some relief from the stress that this climate causes me, and after about an hour, he finally told me I was crazy. I didn’t take that too well, and I told him I’d like a second opinion. He said “o.k., you’re ugly, too”. I should have known something was up when, at the beginning of the session, he told me to lie face down on the couch.

Care to donate to a worthy cause?

I think I’ll take up a collection. There are charities all around us; why not one for me? Can there be any more worthwhile cause than to help a poor, lonely, stranded banjo player escape the hell of an inhospitable climate? Think of the opportunity you have to do some feel-good contributing to a needy banjo playing waif!!! This could be huge; I see movie deals and books once my story gets out. What would they call my movie? “Miracle on Division Ave.” “Little Orphan Paul“. “Frosty Thaws Out“. “That’s What Happens When Cousins Marry“. Hmm…not sure about that last one.

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They say “don’t hide your light under a bushel basket”. Well…is it fair to the world to deprive it of my banjo playing 6 months out of the year? Do you know how hard it is to play banjo when you are shivering? I need a tropical climate folks. That’s all there is to it. Won’t you help? A banjo player is a terrible thing to waste. Give until it hurts. Charity begins at home. What you do for the least of these, you do for me. There’s no I in team…wait, I think I’m getting off track with that one. At any rate, if you’d like to do some liberal, touchy-feely, feel-good charity work, consider donating to my get out of Michigan fund. Think of how good you’ll sleep at night. In fact, depending on where you live, I’ll come over and cuddle up with you! But only if you live in a warm state.

Banjo Paul
“Wunse, I coodn’t even spel bango pikker…now I are one!”
www.banjosrule.com (main site)
www.mybanjolife.com (blog)
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