Reading about Webutant's 3,000 mile drive from the great northwest to the beautiful southeast made me think of two things. First how large, varied and beautiful our country is and just how much my rear end hurts.

For a number of years, back when the earth was still cooling, I used to make the big swing from Ohio down through Texas and on to Taos, NM, up to Estes National Park and back to Ohio with stops in between. I did this in about six weeks. How long ago? Well, I climbed to the bottom of the Grand Canyon and face climbed in Estes and it made me feel good. Now I get winded making coffee.

Those trips were great. I mixed a lot of climbing, hiking and rafting with visits to museums and one-on-one time with artists. I was allowed, as an Anglo, to photograph the ancient interiors of Taos Pueblo, but I also got stoned by a then young group called AIM for my effort. A few stitches to the head and knee, but my Leicas and my film were not damaged. NG didn't accept the photos. Bummer.

Canyon De Chelly, Bandelier, Gila and other astounding places are now mixed with "The Shed" (a then rare blue corn tortilla) in Sante Fe, "The Brown" in Denver ( a hotel with more ghosts than there are Teamsters) and sleeping under a sky that only God could have created.

I could bore you, my minion, with more, but I am going to pull out my journals from that time which I have not looked at for some time.

Oh, back to my buns. Just thinking about those drives makes them hurt. All done in a little "2002" with an air conditioner that had to be Union. It only worked when and how long it chose to work and I, as owner, had no say in the matter.

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My Friday Blues Were Fun

Last evening the wife and I listened to the presents she “bought” me. Earlier in the day I had met a business partner of mine in Columbus. After the meeting, realizing I was in a metropolitan area, I searched out the nearest Barnes and Noble with the gift card my wife had given me in hand. Eagerly, I searched “History”, “Biography” and “Politics”. How appalling. “Politics”, bash Bush. “Biography”, Bush is a moron. “History”, future generations have already condemned Bush as the worst President in history.

I chose David McCullough’s “1776” and Walter Isaacson’s “Benjamin Franklin”. I am excited, but I have money left on the card and some “lady” is eying me a little too closely. I’m no rocket scientist, but if a “lady” is eying me, she is no lady.

Handily, this excuse made me to run to the music section of the store. Once there I made a beeline for the Blues Section. Heaven.

I held an exact album cover copy in a jewel case of THE man.

He was born in Mississippi. He was a draft resister in WWII, but also a monster of a man who won a Golden Gloves heavy weight championship in 1936 and played bass riffs as if God Himself was plucking the strings. He wrote music and lyrics, produced records and also sang.

This man influenced all music that followed. The Stones, Doors, Led Zeppelin, and Eric Clapton all did covers of his tunes. More importantly, so did the Yard birds, Koko Taylor, The Kinks, Howlin' Wolf, Muddy Waters, Bo Diddley, Canned Heat, The Allman Brothers, Captain Beefheart, King Biscuit Boy, Shadows of Knight, Jimmy Witherspoon, Etta James, Long John Baldry, Sam Cooke, Big Mama Thornton, Paul Butterfield, Little Walter, The Spencer Davis Group, Mose Allison, Buddy Guy, Savoy Brown, and the great Jeff Beck and Stevie Ray Vaughn. This is just a small sampling of those that gave him credit for his work. Basically, all of modern rock and blues ripped him off shamelessly.

All of this wrapped in a suit, tie and a pork pie hat.

“I Am the Blues”, Mr. Willie Dixon.

If you only have one blues selection in you collection, this is it.

For an encore to our stroll down memory lane I chose Mott The Hoople’s “All the Young Dudes”.

We had a wonderful evening.

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Ron Paul

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