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One Maine Show for Vance - Make it a Weekend!

I play here Saturday. Please come see me. These people are insane enough to give me my own night. In Maine. Tickets are going well, but it’s Maine, I tell you. It’s a great area for a weekend away, cheap. So are these tickets. I’ll be giving away many of my CDs too:

Saterrday, 6/22 Brownfield ME,


Places on the road. A Post Travelogue. Do you mind?

Driving most of Thursday listening to "Forgotten: Untold Stories Of D Day’s Black Heroes at Home and at War." So yeah, I was pretty pissy and angry, particularly driving across Central Pennsylvania and seeing the signs and bumper stickers and…well…I’d be getting gasoline and under my breath just daring anyone to even look at me wrong. Pfffft…like I’d do anything with my creampuff ass, but yeah you have no idea how quietly I can mumble, “Who you lookin at…?"

Thursday was The Listening Room Port Clinton, OH. Worth the drive. A dedicated room for acoustic music. Is it any wonder as it’s owned and run by a guy that sings and writes, but does real estate for his nut! My acoustic touring brethren - check this place out. They never have under 50 people in the house.

Old friend Jackie from Texas was there. Model plane bestie Rich Weber and daughter were there. Best friend from college John and his family was there. Notable about them is Maria, in her chair, barely verbal but brilliant, clearly cheering Uncle Vance on. And her Brother, Ian, who has my name as his middle name. He had a ride to college with a basketball scholarship, serious ball handler with a wicked crossover and 30 footer that scouts have been interested in since he was in the 10th grade, but decided his calling to be Special Education to make the world a better place for folks like his sister. He says he played better pick-up ball at a gym with others that think like he does on Saturdays and after classes anyway. And these gifted children are my Godchildren? Look out, God...I’ll take it..

Friday afternoon was the Baptist Manor Retirement home in Buffalo. OMG this gig is so fun. Residents are all colors. All types of folks. I played Danny Boy. I played Goodbye Pluto. I played By The Time I Get To Phoenix. I Played Sam Cooke’s “Cupid”. Somehow I strung together "draw back your bow" with "stop bein' a hoe”. I played “When a Man Loves A Woman” with my lyrics too. However, when everyone just sang unprompted on the chorus of Good Good Man I knew I had a winner. Buffalo area fans came to see me work the crowd. My A1C is over 506.35 thanks to the sugar wafers as part of my payment. God help you Joan Bartholomew for having those for me when I specifically asked that you not...

Friday evening was the Amherst Buffet in Buffalo with my brother and his partner. A man toe-scooted into the table adjacent to us in a wheelchair, long nails, O2 can, nose thing. COPD or cancer. And a Veteran’s baseball cap. I never care about my or anyone else’s politics then - I always fearlessly thank a vet for serving if they are sporting something that says so. Even amongst the most red-neckish-scary-don’t-approach-looking persons, I’ve never been turned out or frightened off. And as they all are, this guy was worth it. His name is Ken. Ex-military Air Force police during just pre-Vietnam years. Guarded all kinds of planes on the tarmac at a flying field in England, so that got my antennae up. Stories of the Boeing KB 50J re-fueling tanker he got to ride on, a WW2 bomber airframe with extra jets added to keep up with modern jet aircraft. Talk about recycling? And the story about the sting operation where a mechanic guy was stealing extra spark plugs to melt down the platinum for cash. They got him and his smelter friend in England, each tried by their respective countries. That’d be some song, eh?

Turns out he ended his career as a criminal defense attorney before he got the cancer that took most his lungs away. But boy did he put a hurting on the raw bar. Man did he also appreciate my interest in the planes. Sure, I carry a little pocket book of Cold War airplanes in my fanny pack. Please don’t ask me about it, I just do. I had him sign this pic:

of the KB-50J. And so much for that afternoon’s CD sales to the residents of Baptist Manor, some of whom paid $1 to $5 per CD because I took their check from their table and bought their dinner. No I don’t build much in the way of warplanes in my modeling hobby. I knew Pete Seeger, so that’d be pretty incongruent. But I may make an exception here.

Saturday at Club Cafe is Pittsburgh was fun but tenderly attended. Sunday at Croton-On-Hudson’s famed Clearwater festival was lovely and I did part of my set a cappella in the rain so that those getting wet didn’t feel like they were doing so with me beyond the third wall. It was a magical 45 minutes with Nancy Kaplan the brilliant sign language interpreter, as we stepped from the stage in unison to be closer. The Wailers started their set on an adjacent stage (I hope these folks get their music site geography sorted out...) with the infectious bassline to Lighten Up Yourself, just as I began to I sing June Tabor’s version of Pull Down Lads. I’m sure June would dig how I did it to a reggae beat with Nancy dancing in time and still faithfully signing away.

And then come up to me was a woman after my set to tell me that when she heard me at an ice cream shop in Brookline over 35 years ago it saved her life.

And then I drove home listen to the Ladies No 1 Detective Agency, Book 13. It’s a pretty decent career. thanks.

Coaiching soingwriting, perfoirmance, guitiar & vioice, custom famous people’s face soap whittling, upon request. And there’s the album donation thing, still open, get your name on the cover thing. People are donating twice, which kinda makes me giggle, but ok!