Kinda Day, revisited :)

 Well okay then.

It's nearly Christmas, and I am a happy old dad with both of our children in my city of birth for a few days. Miranda, of course, lives in Brentwood and is blowing away her career in social work at her highly responsible position at the Sexual Assault Center in Nashville. Anytime we can get together and I can get a hug and look her in her beautiful eyes is a good time, but it's especially so when I can look over and up at her "little" brother, Colin. He's sleeping this morning in our guest room beneath my artist's studio here on the 2nd floor. It's only been a few days, but we are enjoying every moment we have with him. 

I'll get up before dawn's crack on Friday to get him out to the airport and on the way back to his life and home in Missoula, Montana, where he's 

1. going to school at the U of Montana, 
2. majoring in sound design and engineering,
3. working one part-time job at a food cart and 
4. starting another when he returns home, as production engineer for the college radio station, KBGA 89.9,
5. Producing and deejaying his own weekly show at Missoula Community Radio 101.5,
6. working with Daisy Chain Presents, a small group in a founder's position to bring a constant stream of live bands into Missoula venues,
7. playing music with other extraordinarily talented friends in 3 1/2 bands,
8. and producing music independently, writing and playing on bass and electric guitars

Here in Nashville, he's thoughtfully balancing his time with us with a slew of friends, some of whom are passing through our fair town enroute to other places these holiday weeks, side-tracking through here especially just to see him. Missoula is a long way away. He's visiting old and new Nashville haunts with these old friends and with new ones he's meeting. 

Anyway, I just wanted to pop in to share something kinda special. It's one of my songs we jammed on together in our living room a couple days ago. Present were Matt Mellon (yes, of Magic Metal Designs fame), my dear son-in-law Tim Buell (yes, of "You're Good, Get Better" podcast fame), the famous Colin Merrick, and moi, obscure songwriter, sometime blogger, and rogue painterly artist. 

Matt is an artful songwriter himself, and I am sad we didn't record some of his songs we did together. In fact, the only song we recorded, thanks to Tim's suggestion we do so and to Colin's iPhone on the coffee table, was one of mine. If you've listened to my "Songs for Alaska" album, long available on streaming platforms, you've heard it. I really liked this version, thanks in part to Matt's work on my acoustic/electric bass, Colin's on my SG Standard electric guitar, and to Tim's masterful drumming on his very cool Toca Percussion Kickboxx Suitcase Drum Set (thanks, Sweetwater!).

It's a one-take kinda thing, but boy-o-boy was it fun. It's a happy song and I'm proud of it, and of my dear dear friends and family. Matt's soliloquy at the beginning and our chatter added some real color to it. I totally agree with Matt's assessment at the very end. Thanks to my compadres for a fun-ass day at Chez Merrique. Listen to...

a weird pano

Kinda Day, by li'l ol' me

Everyone have a wonderful end of 2024 and stay well, safe, and sane in the upcoming dumpster fire year. Keep your head down, your heart up, and your creativity cookin'. 

Chat GPT Shortshort: "The Birthday Wish"

Note: If he really wants to shake up the world and establish his place in history as the political spoiler he has always claimed to be, something like this could be the beginning of the turn toward it, remolding his own legacy as the most caring, positive, and progressive leader in the history of the world. May 25 is my birthday.

The Birthday Wish

By ChatGPT 4.0, creative prompt by Scott Merrick

 

 

The Nomination

It was May 25, 2025, and the country had been on edge for months. The death of Justice Clarence Thomas had left a deep void on the Supreme Court, and in the weeks that followed, the media had speculated endlessly about who would fill the seat. The nation had seen an unprecedented political climate over the past few years, and every major decision seemed to feel like a spark in a powder keg.

 

That morning, President Donald Trump sat in front of a camera in the Oval Office, the familiar blue tie hanging loosely around his neck. His usual confidence was tempered by the gravity of the announcement he was about to make. The livestream had just started, and thousands of people across the country—Republicans, Democrats, and independents alike—were waiting for the news.

 

“Good afternoon, my fellow Americans,” Trump began, his voice steady but tinged with something else, something like resolve. “As you know, earlier this month we lost a great justice, Clarence Thomas. A man who served this nation with honor, with unwavering principle. And now, it is my solemn duty to nominate someone who will continue his legacy, someone who will uphold the Constitution, the rule of law, and the rights of every American.”

 

There was a moment of silence. His audience, half of which was no doubt anticipating the name of a staunch conservative, leaned in closer to their screens. But what Trump said next left them stunned.

 

“That’s why today, I am proud to announce that I am nominating… Kamala Harris, former Vice President of the United States, to the Supreme Court.”

 

A sharp intake of breath rippled through the livestream chat. Twitter erupted in confusion, disbelief, and outrage. The idea of Trump, a Republican president, nominating a Democrat—Kamala Harris, no less—was as shocking as it was unprecedented.

 

Trump gave a brief smile, his hands folded in front of him. "You all remember her, right? She's tough, smart, and knows the law. I think you’ll all be surprised at how well she’ll fit in. It’s time for a change—an unexpected change."

 

### **The Reaction**

 

Within minutes, pundits on both sides of the aisle were reacting.

 

“Well, that’s one way to unite a fractured nation,” a Republican commentator quipped, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “A former vice president, a known progressive, nominated by a president who’s spent the last decade denouncing everything she stands for? Pure genius, or pure madness. You decide.”

 

On the left, liberals were equally flummoxed. "Is this a joke?" one headline read. "Kamala Harris: The Last Person We Expected to See in This Moment." Social media was on fire with debates over whether it was an act of reconciliation or political theater designed to confuse.

 

Across the country, a ripple effect spread through Washington D.C. Senators, both Democrat and Republican, were left scrambling. Some called the nomination "a political maneuver" while others wondered if Trump was setting the stage for something bigger—an attempt to transcend partisan divides, to shift the political calculus of the coming elections.

 

Kamala Harris herself was caught off guard. She had been in her office in California when she received a call from the White House. It had taken a moment for her to process the words.

 

“Mr. President,” she said, her voice measured but filled with disbelief. “You’re serious?”

 

“Very,” Trump replied. “You’ve got my full support. I know it sounds crazy, but we need someone who understands both sides. You’re the perfect person for the job.”

 

After a long silence, Harris replied. “I never thought I'd be sitting across from you again in this kind of way... but I’ll consider it.”

 

The Confirmation Battle

 

Within days, the hearings began. It was a spectacle unlike any other. Harris, seated at the witness table, was cool and composed as senators from both parties launched into their questioning. They had come prepared to attack, to dissect her record, her policies, her entire career. But there was something different this time.

 

Trump’s unprecedented nomination had left the typical partisan attacks on the backburner. Both sides found themselves, strangely, united in their confusion. There was no clear precedent for how to react. A Democrat in a conservative-majority court? Or was this an opportunity to reach across the aisle?

 

Senator Lindsey Graham, a long-time ally of Trump, stared across the room at Harris during the hearings and found himself unable to fully oppose her. “I disagree with nearly everything she’s stood for,” he said in his opening statement. “But I’ve always respected her intelligence. This is a wild card, but it’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

 

Senator Elizabeth Warren, sitting on the other side of the aisle, was less circumspect. “This is a grave mistake. Kamala Harris is too much of a partisan for this position,” she declared, pounding her fist on the table. “We need someone who represents the people, not a politician with a divided agenda.”

 

But as the questioning continued, it became apparent that the confirmation hearings weren’t simply about Harris’s political ideology. They were about trust. Could America trust a decision as volatile as this one? Could Kamala Harris, with her deep ties to the Democratic Party, truly represent the full spectrum of the nation’s values?

 

The Unexpected Victory

 

In the weeks that followed, the country braced for the vote. Public opinion was divided, with both sides feeling the pressure to assert their influence over the proceedings. But when the final vote came—miraculously—it was a narrow victory. Kamala Harris was confirmed as the next Justice of the Supreme Court.

 

The nation reacted in shock and awe. The news spread like wildfire, and the political analysts quickly set to work trying to decode the true meaning of the nomination. Was this a masterstroke by Trump? Or was it a gamble that had somehow paid off?

 

In her first public statement after the confirmation, Justice Harris stood before the cameras, a figure of strength and composure.

 

“This country is divided, there’s no denying that. But I’m here to remind us all that the Constitution is our common ground. We all agree on that. And I will work every day to serve all of America, regardless of party or persuasion. My goal is simple: justice for all.”

 

As she spoke, the reality began to sink in. America had just entered a new era, one in which nothing could be taken for granted. Even the most improbable, the most impossible, things could—and would—happen.

 

And with Justice Kamala Harris now sitting on the Supreme Court, the future of the nation was more uncertain—and more exciting—than it had ever been.

Happy November (one hopes)

 Just popping in to share some of my daughter's music. She belongs to an independent, non-secular choir called Sonos. You can learn more at their website, but you can also learn more by listening to their newly released live album, created from performances in Nashville and beyond. It's stellar...

Woo woo! Two posts in one calendar month!

 What's the world coming to? Well, now, that's a question, now isn't it. 

I can only speak for my own.

It's good. Stressed about the election on Tuesday of next week. But making the prediction that turnout will be high and remaining confident it will be so in favor of reason, kindness, and joy. 

Indeed, part of today's motivation to post is that independent media may well be under attack after Tuesday, if things go particularly bad. We don't need a fascist narcissist at the head of the government. But if I believed in polls I would perhaps be packing right now. The scary part (in my essentially non-political mind) is that, due to the ancient and pointless Electoral College system Vice President Harris may win the popular vote by a landslide and lose the presidency according to that system. Sigh.

On more ground-level news, I spent a couple nights up at my favorite campsite at Lock A Campground last week. The reservation was for Monday and Tuesday nights, and I got up there around 2-pm Monday and took my time setting up my new tent at campsite #45, my little Holy Land. It was a breeze, and the Core 6 person Instant Setup. tent is sooooo happymaking. Here's a pic:

My home away from home at Cheatham Dam's Lock A Campground.

The first thing I put inside the tent was my camping air mattress, seen above acting in its new role as doormat. I blew it up not with a pump, but with my breath, counting around 150 lungsful before its 5 air chambers were in bedtime shape. Checking on it at dusk, I found two chambers flat as a proverbial pancake. I zipped up tight, grabbed my keys, and drove the 10 or so miles into Ashland City and past to the Walmart store, picking up one more bundle of firewood and a home floor air mattress. This baby has a built in electric pump for inflation and deflation. OMG, this is a life-changer, or at least a camping life-changer. The thing, once inflated, is a smooth 6-8 inch layer of air between me and the earth and stays inflated. And it cost less than the frickin' camping mattress. Win win win.

I had a little ceramic heater in my tent and ran it all night, but at 42 degrees outside all it could do is heat a small area directly in font of it. It did not help that the tent was significantly larger than my 4 person one. I awoke at around 4 in the morning, 'way prior to sunrise, and spent a couple hours reading in my little 40 degree rated sleeping bag. Light awakened me and I arose, spending the morning simply cooking, boiling water for coffee, eating breakfast, and cleaning up. I fished some, but it's awkward fishing off that Army Core of Engineers large granite and sandstone cluttered shore. 

Around 1 pm I grabbed my Montana lodgepole pine hiking staff and headed off to hike for 2 hours or so, taking the camp trail east from the campground and hooking into the gorgeous Cumberland River Bicentennial trail that follows the river bank all the way to Chapmansboro and Sycamore Creek. So beautiful. Here's a pano I took along the way:

Cumberland River Bicentennial Trail, east to the left and back to the campground west on the right. Doubleclick to scroll through the pano. This stump marks my turnaround point. I'll be back to do the whole thing one day.

Fall Fall Fall

 To everything, Fall, Fall, Fall, there is a season, Fall, Fall, Fall...

And so here we are, October 6, a full 15 days into Fall. There's a lot going on, there's nothing going on, and everything in between. I'm up before dawn, after a lovely night's sleep beside my honey, with our dog at my feet and Google still laboring away to "play the sound of the ocean." I got up to use the bathroom and when I returned to bed my place was taken by pooch Lemon, who had relocated to locate her whole 85 pound furry self sideways across my pillow. No room for the old man, eh?

From Forbes Magazine: "Comet A3 will now dip from dawn into the sun’s glare, getting closer to our sun until it passes through to the other side — sunset. It will re-emerge in twilight around Oct. 12 for those in the northern hemisphere and should be easily visible — and possibly super-bright — for around two weeks."

That's one thing going on, for sure. 

I hope to get out for a night or two camping in order to view this thing. It's rare, I gather, and I also intuit, since I've never really viewed a comet in the sky and I'm approaching my 75th trip around the sun. 

I've got a couple musical adventures this week. My brother-from-two-other-mothers, Rocky, has been invited by his friend Don Henry, songwriter extraordinaire, to attend his party at Vinyl Tap Records, to which one must wear some attempt at Halloween appearance, and he has in turn invited me to come along. I saw Henry at an event just a couple weeks ago, one which was not officially connected to Americana Fest here in Nashville but coincided with it. The event took place at the Roof Top lounge downtown, and its purpose was to honor Rocky for his songwriting accomplishments, including creating the music for the Grammy nominated "The Mighty Sky" science-themed record. On the little stage in the corner Beth Nielsen Chapman, Don, and Matraca Berg, took turns singing songs, some from Mighty Sky but also others of their choice. It was an endearing performance, each singer singing maybe 4 or 5 songs, and Matraca Berg's husband, Nitty Gritty Dirt Band's Jeff Hanna, got up from his hors d'oeuvres to sing "Mr. Bojangles,"  the Jerry Jeff Walker folk classic his band helped make a standard.

Honor event for my dear pal Rocky Alvey (orange cap)

The Wonder Women of Country at WMOT Americana Fest Day Stage, Eastside Bowl

Nielsen Chapman presented Rocky with a bangin' glass trophy to mark the occasion, and the proud brother Scott exited to the street to head out on his second night of Americana Fest 2024.

Ah, Americana Fest. I had hoarded my Festival Pass ticket for months, purchasing it like back in March, very soon after they became available. I was most excited about two performers, Madi Diaz and Chris Smither, the first of whom I did not see for reasons I will reveal, and the second of whom I saw perform two substantial sets and two venues over the September 17-21 time spread. I saw but a fraction of the performances at only a handful of the venues where they were taking place, but friends, this was the best ~100 dollars I spent last year. 

See the full schedule here.

When I look back at that, it's pretty amazing that I only saw a few shows, but then I'm old and I was just the other side of a pretty nasty bout with Covid. 

In order, though, I saw:

• City Winery main room: A Tribute to Mary Gauthier, Mary Gauthier, Jaimee Harris, Rodney Crowell, Aaron Lee Tasjan, Creekbed Carter Hogan, Emmylou Harris, Gretchen Peters w/ Barry Walsh, and more...

  Silver and Festival Passes Only

• City Winery main room: "25 Years of "Drag Queens and Limousines", Jaimee Harris, Mary Gauthier

  Silver and Festival Passes Only

• Vinyl Tap: Oh Boy! Records "Independents' Day" afternoon hangout 

• At home, the fantastic 2024 Americana Music Awards live from The Ryman Auditorium. I was just a bit beat from earlier activities, so I jacked up the stereo Google Hubs in the living room, poured me a bourbon, snuggled with my fluffy Grand Pyrenees mix, Lemon, and listened to the show from top to bottom without any Mother Church columns in my viewing path (I had no viewing path, though I later learned it was livestreamed). I enjoyed simply immersing myself in the audio in my living room, but I highly recommend you view the entire night's events at WMOT.org -- it includes performances "from award-winning legends, buzzworthy new artists and longtime fan favorites, including Blind Boys of Alabama, Brandy Clark with SistaStrings, Charles Wesley Godwin, Dave Alvin, Dwight Yoakam, Fantastic Negrito, Hurray for the Riff Raff, Jobi Riccio, Kaitlin Butts, Larkin Poe, The Milk Carton Kids, Noah Kahan, Sarah Jarosz, Shelby Lynne, Sierra Ferrell, Turnpike Troubadours, The War And Treaty, Waxahatchee with MJ Lenderman, and Wyatt Flores."

• Eastside Bowl: WMOT Day Stage 12 to 5 pm, featuring Chris Smither, Leyla McCalla, Melissa Carper, Sam Morrow, Uncle Lucius

• City Winery Lounge: Betty Soo, then Chris Smither.

• Basement East: I really wanted to see Madi Diaz so after Chris Smither finished, above, I took a Lyft over and managed to get inside the venue, only to judge it a veritable Covid cesspool. I swear it was body to body packed with sweating 20-30 year-olds and also older folks like myself, and the stage fog hung unmoving in the stage lights and in the room--a clear clue the air circulation was dysfunctional. Spotlights played on the performer onstage (not sure who it was, a young dark haired male rocker) and after finding myself just inside the door and, daunted by the huge clump of sweat-dripping humans between me and the bar, I reluctantly turned tail and took the next Lyft home. 

• Alisa Amador, Amy Helm, Dave Alvin & Jimmie Dale Gilmore with The Guilty Ones, The Cactus Blossoms, and Wonder Women of Country again at the Basement East WMOT Day Stage.