Hell, You Can Play Here Any Day

S:   "yeah?"
A:   "Hi . . . is this Stone Soup Cafe?"
S:   "yeah."


( Stone Soup Cafe : Fairbanks non-profit serving hot meals to those who need them free of charge)






A:   "Hi . . . uh . . . I understand folks play music at the cafe . . . as volunteers . . . during
         First Friday events each month, to help raise money . . (?)."
S:   "Hell, you can play here any day.  There's people here from 6:30 til around 10:30.
        They show up to eat around 7:00.  You an acoustic band?  You could set up
         and play around 7:00."
(meaning 7:00 in the AM, by the way)

A:   "ok."
(Huh. I don't think he gets it.  We want to play the First Friday evening event, as a fund-raiser. . . . ??)

S:   "It's good.  Give people sumpn different.  Better."

A:   "ok."
(mmmm . . . right . . . it's me who doesn't get it . . . )

FBB, Fairbanks Winter Folk Fest, 2011

The Frosty Bottom Boys enjoy playing a variety of (low key) venues.  Winter/Summer Fairbanks Folk Fest, the Tanana Valley State Fair, UAF Pub.  We've never done a breakfast gig; not sure about work schedules; how early do the other guys get up?; we're in a cold snap, too. . . .

This guy, by contrast, is actually focused on the lives of the folks who rely on the cafe.  The cafe needs funds in order to feed people - funds which must be raised somehow. . . .

Yes, he gets that. 

But why don't we give something directly rather than indirectly to people who need it.  Yes, it would be good, something different and in fact, something  much better. 

I think his name is Dan.  Hats off, Dan - thanks for that reminder about clarity and focus.  And the truth.

Remember, Remember the 5th of November

  Guy Fawkes Day commemorates the foiled plot and subsequent capture of rogue conspirators attempting to blow the the Protestant King James and the English Parliament sky-high with kegs of gunpowder in 1605.  Alas, poor Guy was discovered before the fuse could be lit, and finally exposed the identities of his co-conspirators after some days of great unpleasantness in the Tower of London.

   Fran and Pete put on a fantastic bash to toast the 405th anniversary of King James' survival that day.  Only one tribute would do; we launched miniature burning, hot-air balloons (instead of Parliament) sky-high into the night.  Fairbanks never seems windy; on this calm night the sky lanterns floated up a few hundred feet, hit the temperature inversion, and gently drifted away across the valley and Goldstream Creek.  We couldn't see where they eventually came down - a biodegradable burnt offering to the spirits of the winter night. 

Meanwhile, the bonfire continued to rage, as offerings and sacrifices were thrown in, and the pumpkin soup, mulled wine, cocoa and cheese kept coming.  Still not sure how many pumpkins it takes for 15 gallons of pumpkin soup . . .