Kalamazoo

I came here for a reason...

So, here I am. On my 2nd to last bus ride. Listening to Don Henley…


Forgiveness, forgiveness. Even if, even if, you don’t love me anymore.


What a grueling schedule I made for myself here at the end. I sang at the open mic at the renowned Bluebird Café in Nashville. 52 people signed up to sing between 6-9PM.

Apparently, there are so many people that sign up every week and don’t get to sing, that they’ve instituted a system of “second chance” slips. If you don’t get to sing the first time you go there, you’re guaranteed a spot the next time you come back.
Well, the “second chances” totaled 26 people! So, we were told we only got to sing 1 song each, and the host said she thought we’d get through 35-40. She called all the names the way she drew them out of the hat, and, I was #39!

I drank a diet coke… and split fried chicken and French fries with Katie. Yuck. But, so tasty.

There’s something about diet coke that does not blend well with anxiety. My stomach was a wreck… so I played this game with myself where I tried to focus the energy from my core toward my hands – which were frozen solid for some reason. Blood not circulating, I guess.

I sat there, trying to figure out what I was going to sing. What I was going to take away from this experience… coming so far to maybe be able to sing one song. Trying to enjoy the talent in the room, and to tolerate those whose lyrics were kind of embarrassing, or whose vocals were excessively dramatic.

The highlight of the other performers, in my opinion, was an 11-year-old girl who goes by the name Suite Caroline. She was a second chancer… up from St. Petersburg, Florida, and throwing around bar chords like she was just born with the coordination and strength to play them. Her lyrics were totally age appropriate, too, which I appreciate. She was singing about this girl in her class who stole all her friends.

She did introduce the song by saying it was “a diversion from her typical style.” I nearly fell out of my chair when that came out of her mouth. Diversion from your typical style, huh? How much have you performed at the ripe age of 11, anyway? But, she really was just that good, so she could get away with it…

It feels good to write again. I didn’t know if I would because I’m pretty delirious. For some reason, I just could not fall asleep last night. I finally succumbed at around 12:00 or 12:30. Which is really unfortunate because I had to get up at 3:30 to catch a cab to the greyhound station. And, then the freaking bus to was packed, and by that point I was awake anyway… so, I didn’t really drift off all the way.

I loved my cab driver this morning… though he told me I was brave for walking outside at that time of morning. I was walking out of Katie’s complex, and toward the main road.


Oh – wow! I just saw snow! I haven’t seen that, yet.

Anyway, I thought to myself… hmm. There is no one awake. The only thing to be afraid of is the ducks in the pond, the dark sky and the warm gusts of wind… And, we worked it out. But, thanks for your concern. It’s really sweet, noone’s looked out for my safety in a while.

He then let me ride in the front seat, told me tasteful jokes at 4AM in his thick southern drawl, and walked me into the bus station because the bums standing in the front of the station were particularly aggressive, I guess. I liked him instantly.
Ooh, I think I remember his joke. ☺

He says to me… Forrest Gump was trying to get into heaven. He rolls up to the pearly gates, and apparently the Archangel Gabriel is standing there issuing a test to get into heaven. There are just so many people dying to get in, that they’ve instituted this exam. (wah wah wah. But there’s more…)

Gabriel says, there are three questions Forrest has to answer. 1) What are the 2 T’s of the week? 2) How many seconds are there in a year? And, 3) What is God’s first name?

Forrest decides he needs to take some time and think it over. So, he sits down to ponder. The next day, he goes back to the gate, ready. So Gabriel says, “ok Forrest what are the 2 T’s of the week?” And, Forrest answers, “well, that one’s easy… Today and Tomorrow”. Gabriel says “no, Forrest, it’s Tuesday and Thursday! But, I’ll let that one slide, you can continue with the test.”

Gabriel asks, “How many seconds are there in a year?” And, Forrest replies that he really struggled with that one, but the way he sees it, there are 12. Gabriel stares back in awe, “12 seconds, Forrest?” And, Forrest replies, “Yes. The second of January, the second of February, the second of March…” Ok, ok. Stop there. I’ll accept that.

Now, for the final question, what is God’s first name? “Well, that was easy,” replies Forrest, “Andy.” “What?! How do you figure?” Demands Gabriel. And, Forrest says, “Well, we always sang in church, Andy (and He) walks with me, Andy talks with me, Andy tells me I am...” Gabriel opens the gate… “Run Forrest, Run!”

Hee hee.



Wow… looking out the window, I realize this part of the country makes me unbelievably lonely. Even the trees are silent.

When I was 15, my mom remarried, and moved my brother and I to Kalamazoo, MI with her new husband. I remember it like it was yesterday. It was the weekend before Thanksgiving, 1993. We had just finished the fall theater production - Rails, Trails, and Old Folk Tails - at White Station High School in which I played guitar in public for the first time. I would have a recurring dream about that stage for the next 10 years… in which I walked out onto it to perform, and they were in the middle of a show, and I just had to jump in!

The marriage and Kalamazoo were just a blip on our family’s roadmap. We lasted about a year here, and then moved on to Massachusetts where I graduated high school and went to college. But, this journey has brought me a new perspective on that uprooting… and, the subsequent moves that occurred every year until I was 26.

As unsettling as all that was, I was reminded while traveling these last 2 months that I know people all over this vast country that will open their homes and kitchens and laundry facilities to me. That will host people in their homes to hear my music, that will listen to me moan and thrash about over my uncertainties in going home. That will give me wine and tea. That will sustain me.

I must be the luckiest girl alive. So many homes to call my own. At least for a night. At least for a visit.

And, I met all these people because of my willingness to travel and try new things, to be open to people, to making friends, to learning something from every stranger I come into contact with, to being uprooted time and time again… and that all started when I was 15 and dragged kicking and screaming away from all I knew.

I wouldn’t have become who I am without that experience.

And, as lonely as it might be, at times, to be a gypsy… well. I couldn’t have it any other way.

The bathroom mirror has not budged, and the woman who lives there can tell the truth from the stuff that they stay. She looks me in the eye. Said, do you prefer the easy way? No. Well, ok then, don’t cry.


Lots of questions still unanswered. But, if I’d answered all my questions out here, I’d have nothing left to write about, now would I?

Albums still to come, I guess…

Peace from Indiana, on the road to Kalamazoo.

Jess