I'm on tour again, this time out to the wilds of Saskatchewan.
Whenever I tour out West, I make a point of stopping in Winnipeg for a few days. My mom and dad are here (-ish: they actually live 60 miles North of Winnipeg, in the tiny lakeside town of Gimli, Manitoba). Mom and Dad are ... well, getting up there. At our age, one doesn't fly past the parents without checking in. I see them every few months, and it's always a shock that they, like my kids but unlike me, are getting so much older.
Any stop in Winnipeg is marked by a frantic round of visits and lunches and dinners, some of them out of duty, some out of real affection for friends and family I see all too rarely. It underscores how far away I am from my roots, and it's a bitter-sweet experience for that. But better to see these people I love rarely than not at all, I suppose.
Today I go for lunch with three of my best friends in the world. I can't wait. Within seconds we'll be yakking and laughing as if not a day has passed since we were in high school together. No marriages, no divorces, no kids, no tragedy, no triumphs ... just four friends who have a shorthand that goes back a quarter of a century (well, OK, more, but who's counting?). At the end we'll all reach for the check and three of us will be just a nanosecond slower than the big shot law partner. Hey, frig 'im, he can afford it.
Sunday the tour begins .. nine shows in ten days. That's the work part. Till then, I play.