On Saturday, me and the boys made shish kabobs on my little football shaped grill:
We had a great time drinking beer, grilling, and playing music on our old six-strings. Great to be back in Seattle, where I have my own kitchen. I miss cooking.
In Birmingham, Monday's seminar was canceled so I took an earlier flight to Dallas-Fort Worth to rent a car and find Townes Van Zandt's headstone. Townes is one of my favorite song writers, and I figured that he surely would be celebrated in Fort Worth, where he was born. I had no access to the internet so I found a place called "The Texas Cowboy Hall of Fame." I figured someone there would surely know where his grave was. Maybe there was even a little museum or something dedicated to him. At the visitors center, I met two old fellas with cowboy gear and hearing aids. After spending a good amount of time explaining I wasn't looking for the town of Van Zandt but the headstone of Townes Van Zandt, we figured out it was at Dido Cemetary, which neither of them had ever heard of. The phone book didn't have any record of it. Nor did directory assistance. Finally we pulled out an old Fort Worth directory book and found my Dido Cemetary, about 1/2 hour northeast of town.
Before I left, my two new friends suggested I stick around the Fort Worth Stockyards for a bit and wait for the cattle drive. I grabbed a beer (to go) and walked around, meeting some nice cowboys before their daily run:
Meeting one of the last authentic cowboys of Fort Worth, TX
Enjoying a test run while I waited for the cattle drive
Trying to take a picture of myself in front of thelonghorns making their daily walk down the avenue
I had a great time watching the show, but it was past 4pm and I needed to get to Dido Cemetary before sunset. The drive out was beautiful, except for the police officer that pulled me over for speeding. He let me off with a warning, which I was greatful for. Then I inquired about where I might find Dido Cemetary. "It's right there," he said, and pointed across the street.
I pulled in and called a phone number from a sign that said "For questions about Dido Cemetary, please call..." A nice old lady answered the phone and directed me to the "Van Zandt Plot," where I finally found Townes's headstone:
My adventure had ended with this tombstone, and I sat with Townes for a little while, drinking a beer and thinking about his sad life and songs that have become part of the soundtrack to my life:
I pulled in and called a phone number from a sign that said "For questions about Dido Cemetary, please call..." A nice old lady answered the phone and directed me to the "Van Zandt Plot," where I finally found Townes's headstone:
My adventure had ended with this tombstone, and I sat with Townes for a little while, drinking a beer and thinking about his sad life and songs that have become part of the soundtrack to my life:
Days, up and down they come
Like rain on a conga drum
Forget most, remember some
But don't turn none away.
Everything is not enough
And nothin' is to much to bear.
Where you been is good and gone
All you keep is the getting there.
Like rain on a conga drum
Forget most, remember some
But don't turn none away.
Everything is not enough
And nothin' is to much to bear.
Where you been is good and gone
All you keep is the getting there.
I had my moment with Townes and said goodbye, heading back towards town to get a good meal in with my friend Aaron Bale, who had made Mexican Lasagna that was waiting for me in Arlington along with his girlfriend Sarah and her son Aiden. It was a great meal, but the only picture I have is one Aiden took of his cat:
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