Who has seen more of this country than a traveling band? In
the western second leg of this Summer 2018 tour alone, we’ve driven the length
of California twice, Nevada, Arizona, Colorado, New
Mexico, then back to California.
Thommy, the keys man, originally from Flagstaff, Arizona,
has been carrying around a copy of Mark Twain’s “Roughing It” since we all met
up at LAX on the morning of June 27th. Sitting in the way way back
of the van, whenever he’s not driving, Thommy often reads Mark Twain’s
adventures to himself, occasionally handing the torn-up missing-cover book over the top of
the van seats to share a passage with someone else in the band. What was Mark
Twain up to out here in 1872?
After 4 shows in a row to kick off this leg, the guys
finally had a night off in Truckee, California, right next to Lake Tahoe. We
spent a day at Donner Lake, then the next on the Eastern shore of Lake Tahoe.
Thommy brought “Roughing It” to the rocks on the edge of the lake to read.
After we swam in the mountain-cool water, and lay on the sun-soaked rocks like
lizards in the desert, Thommy started reading Twain out loud to everyone. While
our hair waved in wind, sun seeped into our eyes, and chip crumbs cascaded down
beards, Thommy narrated Mark Twain’s epic Tahoe adventures. Twain says, “We did
not see a human being but ourselves during the time, or hear any sounds but
those that were made by the wind and the waves, the sighing of the pines, and
now and then the far-off thunder of an avalanche.” Of course, we saw many other
human beings at Lake Tahoe, the sounds of sighing pines was remixed with the
trap music playing behind us, but a century and a half later, the Lake Tahoe
water was as glassy and clear as Twain described, the sky as cloudless and
brilliant with sunshine, and we were just as fascinated, bewitched, and
entranced by the view.
After a few lake days, we headed back down south, weaving in
and out of California and Nevada all the way, until we made it to a hot springs
tucked into the mountains near Mammoth, California, just in time to see the
sunset. There were sky high mountains all around us, but the first thing Thommy
noticed was the sage brush, waving in the light desert wind. Twain was here
too, Twain saw the sage brush, smelled it, felt it, wrote about it too. And
later that night, as we fell asleep under the starry sky, with an orange sweet
potato moon rising behind the tour van, Thommy yet again pulled us into Twain’s
sage brush adventures. Goodnight Twain, where will we travel together next?
--Nina Gordon
Comments
Post a Comment