Vance’sMondayAcousticPajamaParty #93 - LOVE SONGS 2 - YOU & YOUR BROKEN HEART

When: Monday nite 1/10, 7:30pm EDT.
(“doors” open at 7 for community hang) -

Where: https://youtu.be/qMVxQHwb6dA

Who gets 10%: Arlington Eats https://www.arlingtoneats.org/help/mission-history/ - Shows #2 and #43 were my go to for donation. Sure, I’ll go back here. The organization's title speaks for itself.

http://paypal.me/vancevancevance or
https://venmo.com/vancevancevance or
a check to VanceFunder P.O. Box 17,
Arlington, MA 02476 for this web-groovery.

Pay or not. Up to you. Let’s stay connected.

This week’s pajamas = whatever is dry after shoveling snow

I teach and coach stuff.

Good Good Man - the CD - streaming all over, even get one from me.

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BEST WISHES

Did I tell you about my neighbor Phil? He and his family were kind enough to all go along with a plan that we all PCR test before Thanksgiving over there - I really wanted Thanksgiving over there because his wife Peggy makes the absolute best stuffing. And Peggy’s stuffing did not disappoint me or my A1C, thanks. Diabetic spike or tasty, wet, specially made salty bird bread - there really wasn’t a choice.

Phil tirelessly fields anthropological and historical questions from me ‘round the clock. He’s Harvard's first tenured, Native American History Professor. And he’s Native American. He’s the son of Native American writer, historian, and activist Vin DeLoria. Hahahahah.

Thanksgiving at the son of a Native American activist’s house. I love the irony. And the stuffing.
That said, he has laid some reading material on me over the past 2 years that makes me look closely around and finalize my commitment to make this world a better place, history be damned.

Phil is a pretty fine guitarist and singer too. We talk about everything from Richard Thompson to Jerry Jeff Walker to Soul Music. He’s a huge fan of mine. He knows my giggling secret desire to make a late-career breakthrough as some late-blooming unrecognized whatever. Like Massachusetts’ own stuffing-loving Ted Hawkins or Libba Cotten.

So yesterday evening while he was bringing in his trashcans and talking about Richard Thompson’s autobiography, he gets wide eyed, and says “Wait here”. Runs into his house. Runs back out with the wishbone from Thanksgiving.

“This has been drying in my windowsill since Thanksgiving. Shall we give it a go?”

We each grab a hopeful handle and pull. It breaks so cleanly in 2 places leaving us each with one piece of sternum in each of our hands, and a tiny mini-me wishbone flipping in the air to the ground. We gape amazed.

“It’s a draw!” I opine. “We both get our wish!”

Phil asks “What’d you wish for?”

Thinking of all the great reading he has turned me on to, I shrug and say “World peace…you?”

One of his eyebrows goes up. “I wished for you to get a few opening slots for Jason Isbell!!”

Altruism, World Peace, the progressive spirits of his Dad, Desmond Tutu and Betty White evaporating before my eyes, I reply;

“Can I change my wish?”

Happy New Year xovg