Slow Days

Listening to: Holy Sons : Survivalist Tales and Decline of The West 

http://youtu.be/kDSmfbAW0II

I keep looking on the internet for blogs by someone like me. Maybe I'm not looking that hard. Maybe I'm looking in the wrong place. I search: SINGLE HEARTBROKEN 40 SOMETHING YEAR OLD WOMAN LIVING ALONE FULL TIME IN COLORADO IN VINTAGE TRAILER WITH DOGS...Surprisingly nothing comes up. So here I am. I am a writer. I write songs, I write blogs...I've written long blogs about all kinds of things... but maybe I need to get more direct. Get more specific. 

Here I am a 43 year old troubadour, vagabond and jack of all trades. I just added grave digger to my resume last week as my 14 year old Black Lab, Gibson's time is coming to an end and I need to be prepared for a winter burial if need be. I've been a professional chef, ranch caretaker, horse whisperer, bartender, waitress, organic gardner, crafty sewer,soap maker, housekeeper, professional organizer, vintage trailer restorer, house painter, commercial artist, nationally touring musician, music festival producer, and on and on... 

This past year I found myself really single, isolated and alone, living full time in 3 vintage trailers here in Lyons, Colorado. My 4 year relationship with who I thought was the love of my life ended after several really hard and difficult  years and final desperate tries on my part to hang on to what was left of our hopes and dreams... and finally at the end of December, it ended awfully. I've never been more depressed, hopeless and alone in my life. I'm living here with my two old dogs, Gibson and Jesse (14 and 12) in a little over 144 square feet of living space through a cold Colorado Winter. 

I am a pretty hardy girl.I've been splitting my time for the past 5 years living in these trailers. And before that, I lived for 7 years in an old log cabin with just an old wood stove for heat and just 15 amps of electricty in the ice box of the Nation, Fraser,Colorado... I'm an only child, I'm a singer songwriter, and I know what it is to be alone...but nothing in my 43 years of aloneness has even come close to preparing me to the kind of fear that comes with the isolation from the alone zone I am currently in. About 6 years ago I quit drinking. About 4 years ago I got fired from my last bartending job and there went my entire social network. Now I work for myself, with my 'Girl Friday' business that I started. I clean houses, organize things, do yard work, what ever really. Some days I talk to no one. Maybe a clerk at the grocery store...'Would you like a copy of your receipt?' 'No thanks.' That's a big conversation day. I talk to my dogs. I tell them 'your Mama loves you' over and over and over. My black dog, Gibson, doesn't  hear so well anymore, so I hum next to his ears and blowhot air on to his neck which he seems to like. He's lost all control of his potty and poops so I've got our living space as water proofed as possible. I laid down a grey vinyl plank flooring that is meant to go into basements for areas that can get wet. So any of his accidents get cleaned up quickly and don't cause much damage. He has a special water proof dense foam pool floaty dog bed I made for him. I am finding that my greatest gift I can give in this life is to love and take care of my dogs. They have given me so much. 

I try and keep things clean and organized in all three of the trailers that I keep here. All three have electricity but I only keep my main one heated. 

This wasn't the dream. Me alone, living behind a factory, next to a ditch, alone in mid century pull behind vacation trailers.

I dreamed of a small cabin or cottage in a mountainy place with a stream or river... A place for a garden and a wood fired hot tub...a place to be quiet with my love and our family of dogs. 

I am finally accepting the fact that that dream didn't happen with him... and that it's up to me to find my own way to that place. To not give up on my dreams. I realize that I am very lucky to have this space here for me, the trailers and my dogs to regroup. To use this time to heal myself, to tend to my wounds. To reinvent again. 

So what is my dream? It certainly isn't cleaning houses on my hands and knees when I'm 65 but if I have to I will. My dream: to travel and write about the experiences. To smile. To laugh. To love and be loved. To have enough money to get by. To live a simple life with a beautiful man who I love and who loves me. The real love. The Real Me and The Real Him. Where truth is the foundation that our love is built on. Where things flow relatively easy. Where our everyday lives are an adventure. To have my own life too where I am creative in my music, art and writing. To give back and make a difference. To get a handle on my mental health. To have supportive friends and a community I belong to. And I'd get many more stamps in my pass port, spending lots of time in warm climates, seeking out the blue and the green. And I'd have the love of my life right by my side. The one who would never let me go. 

This isolation island I've been on for about 9 months can't be it. My therapist says, 'what if this IS it?' 

'No thank you' I reply in my Chelsea Peretti voice. 'No thank you.' 

What if you wind up in a place and you say to yourself : wait a minute, this really wasn't the plan. What if everyone you knew and loved all walked away. What if you found your self unlovable. What if everything you did to make life work no longer worked. Well then, you'd be where I am, painfully,slowly inching your way forward trying to figure out what to do and where to go next. There is no hiding from this kind of broken. There is no more running away. All I can do is what is right in front of me. 

My number one goal is to be able to financially take care of myself...It's been scarry and it still is...but I have to have faith that the money will come and I will be all right. I hope in time I have enough money to buy a truck of my own that can pull my trailer. As of right now they are just land yachts and land locked. 

I'm making collages/vision boards... I am painting pictures of what I love and what I hope for. I'm getting ready to start recording my 3rd album. I'm listening to music again. I'm playing music again. 

I'm hanging on to what is real and not what is a fantasy.  i'm trying to stay out of bed for as long as possible today and everyday from here on out...just putting these words down is a success. I was able to buy myself a used old Ipad and a wireless key board so now I can type. That in itself is a success. Here I am writing my story in hopes that I am getting though...maybe I'm only getting through to myself but that's a good place to start. It's the only place to start. I am the one I've been looking for. 

All photos by Jami Lunde and all paintings by Jami Lunde too 

copyright 2015. 

Land Yacht

1959 Kenskill 'The Birdhouse' in the winter 

I am a single handed land-yacht sailor. I am embarking on the biggest solo sail of my life: a full Colorado winter in a 1956 Kenskill Trailer that I have yet to name or even spend a night in. On board will be Gibson and Jesse Lunde, my 14 and 12 year old dogs (forever friends) and me. They don't do much in terms of helping, which keeps in line with the strict rules of single handing. While I am not a stranger to shorter jaunts in my current trailer, a 1959 Pink Kenskill that I call The Birdhouse, to this new-to-me 1956 trailer that I plan on moving into soon has not yet been tested to be livable...

The 1956 Kenskill

1959 Kenskill 'The Birdhouse' that I am currently living in

1966 Airstream Overlander I lived in from 2010-2012 

Before/during the scraping

After two years of living part to full time in the Birdhouse ,and two years prior to that living in a 1966 Airstream Overlander, plans to do the biggest repairs to the '59 will begin in October, just a few weeks away. The repairs include fixing and sealing the roof seams. I spent my first summer of owning her doing the prep work for this job. It was the hottest summer ever here in Lyons,Colorado, and I'd be out there in 109 degree heat, scraping off the 55 years of past random sealants with a heat gun and putty knife.

Hot tin roof 1959 Kenskill after all sealants had been removed. 

 Since then, she has traveled short distances but has been covered with various layers of roof tarps to keep the rain out. My other plans also include sandblasting and painting her outter skin. I haven't decided an exact color or stripe pattern, but, one thing is for sure, there will be some pink. All these repairs need to be done indoors, so the time has finally come when I have such a place to do these much needed things. My trailer partner, JMac, who owns 35 acres about 30 minutes north of here, finally got his airplane hanger size garage put up (only two years behind schedule.) So now we can do what we've been talking about for the last couple years: restoring trailers! My 1959 Kenskill is first on the agenda! 

JMac putting the rain gutters back on. 

I have been a bit nervous about moving into this '56 trailer while my '59 is being worked on. We don't know each other very well yet. On one of the first days I spent cleaning her, she wasn't fully leveled and a big rain storm came and the rain poured  in through every window. To see even one drop of water come in a trailer is devastating, let alone, a pouring stream from every possible place! Yikes! After looking things over,when the rain stopped, my trailer partner discovered that the previous owners had probably taken all the windows out prior to selling her in hopes of painting her, and when they sold her, not having painted her yet, they didn't seal the windows back up, or put the rain gutters back up over the windows, so naturally when it rained she didn't stand a chance. That was the first order of business with the '56: putting the rain gutters back up over each window and then taking each window out and adding a new layer of Butyl tape sealant to the window frame and then putting them back in. 

1956 Kenskill as yet unnamed. 

I have spent the last two years perfecting the livability of the Birdhouse. Everything has it's place and it's purpose. In just 119 square feet, there's not an inch of extra room for unnecessary things. I love it. I love everything about the Birdhouse. From her giant bay front window and jalousie windows, to her pink Princess stove, pink sink and  pink shower, to her light birch walls and rounded cabinets. I love the way that the three of us fit in here and know our places. Jesse mostly hangs out under the bed with my guitar cases. Gibson, is either on the bed, when I want him out from under my feet or laying in the 3x3 square feet of space in front of the sink, in front of the Dometic 3 way fridge. As I sit here on my booth seat, we are all in our places. I have just heated up three pots of water in my electric water pot and I washed the few dishes I had from the day in my little wash basin I place in the sink. I don't let the water go into the grey water tank. I just dump the soapy water out side and use the rinse water to water my plants and little container gardens outside. 

I am lucky that I have an electricity source close by and an outdoor water spicket that I can take my gallon jugs to and fill up every other day depending on my needs. Most days I use less that 3 gallons of water a day, and that includes the dogs' water bowls. I wash my hair once a week, and take sponge baths every day or so. During the spring, summer and fall, I have a 10x10 out door living area with a table I made from old pallets, a couple chairs, a long front porch and an old secretary's desk that  I found in an alley and painted to keep my cleaning products and laundry soap in. An old non working Pink Hadco fridge sits out there and houses my gardening tools. I keep a few metal painted trash cans around for bird seed and dog food, and a pretty 1940s metal trash can keeps my dirty cleaning rags that need to be laundered. I have strung big clear Christmas lights all around the trailer's windows and the canopy of the 10x10 pop up shelter that makes up my outdoor living room. I have a large piece of that green fake grass carpet, to help keep the dirt out of the trailer...Like I said, I love it and everything has it's place. 

Outdoor living area of 1959 Birdhouse. Table I made from pallets. 

Winter is coming. That is a fact. And I have spent not only the last two but really the last 4 years living,like I said, part time in trailers. My first for-go was in a 1966 Airstream Overlander. It also didn't have the water hooked up. I had electricity and kept it heated with an little electric heater when I'd be there. There were nights I slept in her when it was 7 below outside and maybe 40 inside. It would take a long time to heat up. After living for 7 years in an old log cabin high in the mountains of Colorado,also with no running water, just a wood stove for heat and only 15 amps of electricity,  I know what it was like to be cold. It would be 40 below outside and frosty blankets inside. Brrrrr. Looking back, I guess, I am an unconventional liver person.

Elk Creek Ranch cabin I lived in for 7 years. Snowy bunnies! 

 

I just tried a four stint living with my boyfriend (part time when I wasn't in the trailers) in his high mountain town town home. We lived in the basement and had roommates upstairs. We shared the kitchen and common areas. I swear this nearly killed me. It was strikes all around. While I love him, I couldn't handle the stress of the living situation. So this brings me to this current situation of living full time year round in a vintage trailer. I really have no place else to go but no place I'd rather go anyway. 

I sit here tonight, in my pink trailer, front door proped open, listening to what could be a sleep noise mix tape: bubbling brook, mixed in with chirping crickets, low bass-y frogs and an oscillating fan. It is another full moon? Good Lord, it sure looks like it through the trees. The Harvest Moon.  I am barefoot and enjoying the last of these summerish nights. Soon enough, I will replace the fans with heaters, flip flops with snow boots, and hoodies with down parkas. I will close the door and nestle in for the winter. 

This whole last year has already felt like a long winter emotionally. From the Lyons' flood a year ago, to the dissolving of my relationship; emotionally it's been incredibly dark. So now for it really to be getting dark again, I'm just a little apprehensive about it. 

Gibson Lunde

This afternoon, during a particularly windy storm, I decided to do something I haven't done in months: watch a movie on Netflix. Instead of watching it with my guy, snuggled up in our memory foam bed, at his town home we lived in together, under down comforters and dogs all around, I watched it on my iPhone, on top of my feather bed with Gibson,my 14 year old black lab at my feet. I watched this documentary that my friend Craig (a real sailor who sailed from America to Tahiti!) suggested because he knew I'd love it, Maidentrip, the story of Laura Dekker, the youngest girl to sail single handed around the world. These stories have always inspired me. From the first time I saw the movie The Dove, about Robin Lee Graham,another young single handed sailor, to reading all kinds of books on sailing and sailors ( Maiden Voyage is another favorite). I especially like the single handers for some reason. I like the idea of just being out there alone...and liking being out there alone, and then not liking being out there alone, and then not wanting to come back from being out there alone. Learning to like your own company the best. To rely on yourself entirely. To find your true happiness, to finding your true self and finding you never want to leave who you found. 

While in my relationship with my guy over the last four years, when I'd feel overwhelmed by our living situation, I kept another trailer up at his place, where I could go to escape if I needed. Yes, all these trailers get confusing for everyone to keep straight. So all total, my trailer partner and I have 4 trailers between us: the two Kenskills, the Airstream and this little one called the Cardinal that is a 1962. 

1962 Cardinal outside of the town home, Frisco Colorado. 

I am now in a place in my life I've never been and I like it. I am totally alone. I can do whatever I want. I have my own little cleaning and organizing business called 'Girl Friday' and I live with in my means. I also wear many different hats that include: songwriter,musician, writer, chef, crafter, sewer, upholsterer, gardener, horse whisperer, star gazer, mountain climber, river rafter, and photographer to high light a few things that I can be found doing. Instead of worrying about the Doldrums that are sure to come mid-winter, I am going to use this time as a land locked solo sailing journey around the world of me. Who is this 42 year old that I've become? What else is she capable of? There's no running away. There's no jumping overboard, there's only sailing on towards the horizon to what is right in front of me. In my mind, as the wind blows and the snow comes, I will think of my trailer with sails on top, heading towards the sun. 

Elk Creek Ranch/Gardens

Seven years ago,when I was 35, I did something, which now, seems not very original, I left my husband of 15 years. It's a big complex story with lots of reasons, but one of the bigest reasons was that I had dreams that I wanted to live, dreams that he didn't want to live with me. 

Sure, for a long time we were living our dreams. We had lived on 360 acres in an old log cabin with out running water, minimal electricity and just a wood stove for heat for 7 years. It was a big old horse ranch that over looked the Continental Divide. That was a big dream for sure when we were first together. We learned to live a simple way. Every day was chop wood and haul water. 

We built greenhouses from lodge pole pine logs and salvaged windows and raised bed gardens from scrap wood we found. We had an out door shower that used hauled and heated up water from the Elk Creek irrigation ditch that ran throughout the property. We caretook the horses and chickens, the dogs and cats, feed the hummingbirds in the summer, cut 15 cords of wood when the snow had melted and we could get the early 80s F150 back on the ranch's  logging roads and v then plowed the snow in the winter. 

 I grew dozen of kinds of heirloom tomatoes on that ranch at 9,200' in the  raised beds of 100% 2 + yr old composted horse manure (from the horses we care took, who ate the hay we grew, cut, raked, put up in the barn and hauled out on sleds in knee deep snow in the winter) and never had a bad insect... In the raised beds, in perfect patchwork squares, I grew every weird kind of lettuce, spinach, kale, chard, and mustard green I could fit. Spring peas would grow intertwined on old scalloped edged wire fences along the irrigation ditch and tubers and root vegetables grew in sandy deep dark soil. It has been over 7 years now since I've had a garden of my own, it used to be such a big part of my life... It's going to take some time to get my soil just right... I am hoping to head up to the ranch tomorrow and get a few buckets of Annie's muck pile to add to my new garden's soil... Sort of like a yeast starter for bread that you never let die. I drew out my garden plan on squared grid paper last night with my seed packets all around me... This will be so small in comparison to the scale of what I used to do, but it's a beginning. I am reminded of that Christine Kane song 'She Don't Like Roses' that says : she wants a garden| a little bit of land to put her hands in. 

 And then the next dream was to own  our own house.. So .we bought an old 1875 farmhouse about 30 minutes out of town. When we moved from the ranch, we took down the biggest of our greenhouses and moved it to  back of our new-to-us farmhouse. We even hauled all the soil in our gardens from the ranch because to us, not only was it expensive to replace, but it was like gold. I went completely nuts planning the gardens every winter. Seed catalogs were prized possessions. I spent more money than I should have ordering heirloom seeds, starter plants and organic seed starting mix. Coming from 9,200' at the ranch to about 7,800 at our new place, it meant a longer growing season. Our new green house was bigger. We made it for starting seeds and then as a hot house for growing tomatoes, peppers and things that thrived in the heat. 

But I wasn't just a thirty something backyard gardener, I was also a singer songwriter with one album under my belt and dreams of playing music and seeing the world. After two years of making the farmhouse picture perfect, ready for the magzine shoot (incase they ever came knocking- they never did), I realized that I still had many more dreams to live. Dreams of my own that my husband didn't share. It didn't help that I had been sleeping on the couch for years, either. 

So in the last seven years, since I left our marriage and our beautiful farmhouse, I have made many of my  dreams come true. I lived in Venice, California, bought a surf board and tried to learn to surf. I traveled alone for 2 months  with a mountain dulcimer all over Thailand and Indonesia. I landed in the artistic community of Lyons,CO.  I've played some big and some small stages, made my second album that I am very proud of. Started a community music night at a local venue that helped to fundraise thousands of dollars for things like the Japanese Earthquake/ Tsunami. The Haiti Hurricane, Hurricane Sandy, Colorado Wild Fires and more. I was even presented an e-chievement award from the radio show e Town for my community service. I've also since fallen in love with another mountain man in another mountain town. We have summitted 14,000' mountains, ice climbed frozen water falls, back packed, hiked, backcountry skied deep powder, and white water rafted raging rivers. Still with all that adventure, something's been missing :  My love of a simpler life, watching things grow from seed and being quiet. 

You're Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go

I couldn't even focus on the photos on the giant board yesterday at the memorial. Someone handed me the program/service paper, I don't even know what it's called...pamphlet, brochure, program? Those words just aren't the words that come any where near the definition of Todd...yet, here we all were re defining and defining the way Todd, who passed away May 20, 2014, made our lives, our trips around the sun, feel like we were living our own  Kerouac-lives, hoboing trains across the West, even if we were just walking down the street, sitting out on his deck in the sun with a 12 pack, or swirling on a bar stool waiting for him to glance our way. 

Everybody will help you
Discover what you set out to find
But if I can save you any time
Come on, give it to me
I’ll keep it with mine

Listening to this song now, I can hear Todd saying, 'Susanna Hoffs? Total babe.' As he rolled a quarter across his knuckles. Did I make up in my mind that he tried out for clown college? You'd see him riding down the dirt streets of Fraser, Colorado on his uni-cycle, spinning an Ultimate Frisbee on one finger, bare footed and bare chested smiling at everyone he passed

Leave your stepping stones behind, something calls for you

Forget the dead you’ve left, they will not follow you
The vagabond who’s rapping at your door
Is standing in the clothes that you once wore
Strike another match, go start anew
And it’s all over now, Baby Blue

Our bond was over music, Bob Dylan and The Grateful Dead mostly, the old black and white episodes of the Andy Griffith Show and the fact that we had the same sarcastic sense of humor,the ability to talk about anything at all or sit in comfortable silence. 

 

Years ago, when I still lived in Grand County, I used to do a lot of canning...pickles, preserves, salsas...and My friends would receive jars for gifts. I know I gave Todd some of my bread and butter pickels one time and he always made sure to tell me how much he loved them. 

Last summer, after we knew he was sick, he sent me a text, and asked me if I had any more of those Bread and Butter Pickles left. I said, Todd, that was 15 years ago...I haven't canned pickles in a long time...He said, just wondering, Don't want to be any trouble. I got on my sea foam green cruiser bike and rode down to the farmer's market and ordered up a bushel of pickling cucumbers... I was down to double digits in my bank account but I spent the last of my money on Ball jars and those cucumbers...I made up a batch of those pickles because Todd said, 'I'm hungry and had a hankering for those pickles.' I sent him two large jars as soon as they were ready... Funny, as it turns out, Frances Bavier (Aunt Bea) and I have the same birthday...I pickled my cucumbers in vinegar, not kerosene, but the sentiment was the same... As long as my family loves what I do, that's all the blue ribbon I need. 

Todd and I spent a lot of time going to concerts and festivals. He was always fun to have around. When I got married, he was my bartender...there was no other choice. My wedding reception was full of wedding crashers and pukers. We did it up right back then.  The next day, my mother in law, said in a thick Wisconsin accent, 'Oh, gee, your bartender sure did get drunk last night.' I said, 'Well, I hope so, he is one of our best friends.' 

Sept 19, 1999 Woodspur Lodge, Winter Park, CO

Sure enough, look at the cup in his hands...There was a lot of Wild Turkey going around that night. This is at my wedding in 1999. I am not one to judge, I was at the Creek before my wedding having a shot of Turkey myself. This was the only time Todd had short hair. Apparently, he cut it in some sort of 2 am dare...I'll  leave it at that but that story is pure Todd...but it's not my story to tell, so you'll have to ask him about it if you ever run into him again. 

Around the end of February, I got news from Sudi, one of my oldest girl friends who was also Todd's best friend, that he  was in the hospital and it wasn't looking good. I canceled a few shows I had scheduled and made the trip back up to Grand County to see Todd in the hospital. To let him know I was coming, I sent him this photo of us at my wedding telling him I loved him. When I arrived, Todd had decided that he wanted what remained of his long hair to be cut off like this. Julie did a great job doing the cutting while Jeanette, Sue and I sat there, telling him how handsome he looked. It was surreal. His phone was blowing up with messages and calls as his friends got wind of his where abouts and condition. I held his hand as he wiped away tears. He said he was ready to go. Even though he said that, and it looked like that would be the best decision, it still seemed like he would kick this, bounce out of it... Be back out in the summer sun, spinning his Grateful Disc...

I asked him how old he was, as he always kept that vague. He told me his real age, which made him older than I thought, but it seemed right as I always knew he lied about his age. I kissed him forehead and asked him if I could take a photo...he said, sure... This was one of the last smiles I got. I know he loved me. You can still see it in his eyes. 

March 8 2014 Granby Medical

A few days after this was taken, he was released from the hospital. They had gotten him to the point where he could leave. So I was coming back to Grand County to play a show, and I sent him a message, asking if he was up for some company, he called me and asked if I could come and pick him up and take him to the Library... which I did. I helped him out of his house, through his snowy, unshoveled driveway, walking with a cane, into my car...the same one, we drove everywhere in together...I tried to keep it but upbeat...'Look at you,' I said, 'Land of the living!' 'Barely...' he chimed back. Gone was the laugh that would have follwed that comment.Just a wincing of pain. I could tell he had gotten accustomed to the IV pain management in the hostpital and being out wasn't necessarily a good thing. After his library visit, and I dropped him back off at home, just a few blocks away, I wouldn't let it sink in, that I was probably saying good bye for the last time...It couldn't be the last time. 

We sat there in my car for a few minutes, looking at all the other places he had lived in the 20+ years I had known him, all of them with in sight of my windshield, and laughed a bit. I confessd to him of the time many, many years ago I came knocking on his door at 2 am but he was alseep... Startled, he said 'you did?' Yeah, it was probably a good thing you didn't wake up, I said... 

We could see his old second level deck that we'd sit out on and drink beers in the sun and we shared a few laughs and then I helped him back inside his house. I told him I loved him and he said, I love you, too... 'See you next time' I said and shut my eyes, not wanting to see the last moments. 'See you next time, Jami.' He said in his still deep voice. 

And that was it. 

In the weeks after that day, I had gotten news that he had requested no more visitors...that he just wanted his quiet time. 

On the afternoon of May 20, I was on another call when Sudi's name flashed across my phone and I took the call...

Hi... I said... Hi... she said back...I knew before I even clicked over. 

He had passed away shortly before she called. 

It doesn't feel like he is gone. 

I feel him with me while I am listening to these songs, in the voice of Andy Griffith, in the words of Bob Dylan and in the waves of Jerry Garcia's guitar. 

I know this wasn't our first go around and I know it won't be our last. That's the thing about the souls you are surrounded by in your life...we seek each other out...we need each other to help us make it through. We are each other's guides. 

Todd, Sudi, Stefan and me, Oct 2007

Oddly enough, yesterday, at his memorial/life celebration, there was a rack of all of his shirts. He said he had wanted his friends to have his clothes. I couldn't even walk up to them or walk past the photos. But as I was leaving, I glanced up and there was one shirt left hanging there...it was this one he was wearing above in the photo taken at my going away party in 2007. I didn't know it then, but I guess it was hanging there for me. I left it for someone who might actually wear it.  Like with autographs, which I never want, I didn't want the shirt as a momento...as I can feel him with me, I didn't need a shirt to remind me of our friendship as he is in my blood and tattooed on my heart. 

Sudi had asked me if I would play a song at the memorial, but when I got there, it just didn't feel right. There were so many people to talk to and catch up with and my songs would have gotten lost in the crowd.  So I passed on the playing to the others but I said I'd play a song for Todd here at home... I made a little video along to my little iPhone recording of Bob Dylan's 'You're Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go'... 

"Death Is Not The End"

When you're sad and when you're lonely
And you haven't got a friend
Just remember that death is not the end
And all that you held sacred
Falls down and dows not bend
Just remember that death is not the end.

Not the end, not the end
Just remember that death is not the end.

When you're standing on the cross-roads
That you cannot comprehend
Just remember that death is not the end
And all your dreams have vanished
And you don't know what's up the bend
Just remember that death is not the end.

Not the end, not the end
Just remember that death is not the end.

When the storm clouds gather round you
And heavy rains descend
Just remember that death is not the end
And there's nowhere there to comfort you
With helping hand to lend
Just remember that death is not the end.

Not the end, not the end
Just remember that death is not the end.

Oh the tree of life is growing
Where the spirit never dies
And the bright light of salvation
Shines in dark and empty skies
When the cities are on fire
When the burning flesh of men
Just remember that death is not the end
And you search in vain to find
Just one law abiding citizen
Just remember that death is not the end.

Not the end, not the end
Just remember that death is not the end.

And lastly, this is the song I want to be played when I pass on to the other side. I can't wait to see him there. He'll be waiting at the gates, rolling a quarter across his knuckles standing in a ray of sunshine saying, 'What took you so long?  Let me show you around. You're gonna love this place. Everyone's here...' 

When I ask him who...

Oh, they're ALL here he says laughing and forever young. 

Old South St Vrain (Airstream)

Photo Old South St Vrain by Jami Lunde

Lyontown. That's what I call the place I call home. As Craig Ferguson, the owner of Planet Bluegrass, told me once, He brought each one of us here, one person at a time. I started coming to Lyons in the late 90s for the Folks Festival held at the Planet Bluegrass Ranch, which wound up changing my entire life. I came first for the Folks Fest, then The Song School, then, when I had no place else to go, I came to Lyons and asked her to take me in, to give me a home of my own. She at times, was my only friend and She's never let me down.Every time I'd leave Lyons after spending a week there in the summers for the music festival and song school, I'd cry and cry the whole way back to my mountain home 3 hours away. It was like I was being ripped away from my only true self.

It was through an ad I placed on Craigslist that I found my first place to call home in Lyons. I was in Sumbawa, Indonesia at the time when a girl read my ad that said, 'I am a musician in Indonesia, wanting to move to Lyons, I have very little money, and I will live in your barn, yurt, Airstream, basement, attic or room in your house...just looking for a place to land.' Amy Jensen replied and said, I wasn't even really looking for a roommate but I have a room in my house and you can live here. So when I landed back in L.A., collected my few belongings, I drove out to Lyons with my best friend, to see if it would work.

My friend and I followed Amy's directions to her house up on Longmont Dam Road, below the Button Rock Reservoir, I couldn't believe my luck. Amy's place was right on the St Vrain river in a red rock canyon. I lived there for six months, got a job waiting tables and bar tending at the local bar and started writing the songs that would end up being on my second album, Big Black Birds. 

It wasn't the easiest of transitions though. When I moved there, I was thinking that since I knew so many people that lived there, I was going to be surrounded with musicians and friends...My friends who did live there when I arrived, had their own lives going on, the day to day normalness, and a few of the people I thought would be there, had recently moved on to Brooklyn...It wasn't how I had imagined it. The Bar I got a job at was one of the most difficult places I'd ever worked at...it took about 6 months before I had any friends there, too.  I had a friend who owned a house in downtown Lyons and was looking to rent out her garage. I jumped on it. I would be able to live alone but yet with people. I lived there for about 3 years while I worked at the Bar, recorded my album and played shows. My neighbors became my family. 

After three years of living in the garage apartment, my friend who owned the house, said that her boyfriend was moving in and that they were going to remodel the garage...that meant I had to move out. The main problem was, I didn't want to go. I didn't want to leave Lyons. So I started looking for other places in town to rent...that sounds easier than it is. I found one place a few blocks away in an artist's home...it was a little lock off studio that looked like the perfect place for me... I had my two dogs and I was grateful to have  plan...About 10 days before I was to move in, that woman who owned the house, called and left me a message, that after second thought, she didn't want me and my dogs... I was heartbroken. I had just started dating a man about 4 months previously who lived about 2 hours away up in the mountain town of Frisco, where I was spending a lot of time. It wasn't my original plan to move in with him that soon, but after a long day out on Lake Dillon, canoeing and talking, we decided that I would move in with him, he would watch my dogs while I kept my job at the bar, and I could try and find a place to stay while I worked that would take me with out my dogs. 

My reflection in the Airstream

Photo Jami Lunde

Across the street from my garage apartment, was an old Airstream travel trailer. I knew the owner of this and had always pestered him to let me move into it. He always replied that I had dogs and they would ruin it. So now that I had a place with my guy for my dogs, I asked the owner of it again...this time he said yes... So for the next year, I lived in the Airstream during the time I worked at the bar, and I on my days off I drove up to Frisco. 

The  Airstream in the Winter with the St Vrain below

Around a year later, I was fired from my job at the bar...it was time. But it was my job that technically kept me there. My friend who owned the Airstream, said, I know this is your home, keep the key and come anytime you want.  The Airstream was perched over looking the North Fork of the St Vrain River...I spent many days, holed up inside her belly watching the black squirrels run in the trees and the birds splashing in the water. I wrote many songs in there and spent a lot of time just thinking. I also was very lost and very depressed. It was my alone time in the Airstream that made me feel better. Even as I split my time between Lyons and Frisco, and towns in between playing shows, I always called Lyons home. As time went on, I realized that trailer living was for me...a little place of my own. So with the help of my friend who owned the Airstream, we found my dream trailer, a 1959 Pink Kenskill...and it's been in Lyons for the last year, where I stay in it while I am 'visiting'...which is often. This spring, we moved my kenskill to the spot closest to the river where the Airstream once sat for years...My door and windows were just feet above the North Fork...it was my paradise. 

Photo Jami Lunde

Photo Jami Lunde

River right out my window

That little corner of the word, at 4th and Evans by the footbridge, I don't know how to explain it...but that's where my soul feels like it belongs. That's where my people are. 

I left Lyons last Sunday night as I had a house to clean in Frisco on Monday. As usual I was planning on coming back later in the week, to spend the weekend and hang out with friends. We have tickets to see Neko Case tonight... that seems like the least of our concerns anymore. On early Thursday morning, while I was in Frisco, my dog, Gibson, woke me up around 3:30 am to go outside. I use my iPhone as a flash light to navigate my way in the dark, upstairs from my basement to let him outside. While I wait for him, I check in on Facebook. I saw posts from friends who were hearing those God awful loud emergency sirens they test the first Monday of every month and evacuating their homes. They are there for a reason...but who would have ever predicted being awoken at 2 am to leave home?

JMac's House taken from where my trailer was just sitting. Photo Whitney Way

I thought of my friends and neighbors who live in my neighborhood on both side of the St Vrain River...Especially, my friend JMac, who owns the house and land where my trailer is on and my friends, Annie and Eben who live the next house down also directly above the river. I called JMac, and he was already evacuated at the Lyons' Elementary School and said the water was not to my trailer yet. As the day went on, and we talked every half hour or so, me in Frisco and him in Lyons, I knew my trailer wasn't his first priority. His house, tenants, cats, belongings and vehicles were... But at a certain point, listening to him tell me about how his cats were all sleeping in their crates in his jeep, I said, Jmac, while it's calm, move my trailer, more rain is on the way. At this point, water was rising and just feet from the tires. My trailer was attached to his old brown Willy's Jeep that was nosed up to the guard rail right above the river embankment on a slight down hill slant. JMac, finally realized the danger and told me he would work out getting it out. Just last week, we had moved the trailer from where it's been all spring and summer...as it was attached to an old milk truck in the same location, but the milk truck was sinking into the ground and we knew we had to move things around before it was impossible to later. It took JMac and I probably an hour to move things around. The Milk Truck and my trailer were so heavy and stuck, that we broke several tow ropes and chains trying to get them pulled out with the Dodge Dully. But after several attempts, and me digging the tires of the milk truck out of the dirt, and we borrowed a super fat tow chain from some neighbors, we were mobile again. The milk truck is for sale, so we used his old brown Willy's Jeep to tow the trailer back in place...to the lovely spot perched right above the river. 

Summer above the river

Gibson fishing for rocks in the North Drinking Pool

I was on Facebook all morning, following all the posts from friends in Lyons, who still had cell service and batteries. My friend, Whitney, posted a video of JMac pulling my trailer away from the high and rising water. 
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I watched on my phone as she posted it. I was so relieved. About an hour later, JMac, called to tell me that the spot where the brown Jeep was had now collapsed into the river...and had the Jeep, which the trailer was attached to, not been moved, they too would be in the river. I had a feeling that things were going to be getting worse.

Photo Whitney Way

This is a photo of the space where the Jeep was pulled up to (a little to the right and more down hill). 

Here is what happened just a couple hours from when the trailer was moved...That is my blue cooler that I kept out in front of the trailer.
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 The rest of that day, more images and videos came in through Facebook, showing the world mind blowing images. Like this one from our beloved Planet Bluegrass Ranch.

Photo Jeff Scroggins

Photo I snapped from an areal video i found on Facebook.

And this one of the mobile home park where many of our friends live...

Photo Jim Botsford

 It's just horrendous. Yesterday, most of my friends who were in Lyons, were stuck there, with no way in or out. The news reports coming in were saying that roads were washed out and Lyons was cut off from the world but that the National Guard and FEMA were on the way. I didn't hear from my friends, Annie and Eben or JMac. I worried myself into knots thinking about both of their homes that sit right on the river. Coincidentally, Jmac, is selling this house and my best friend, had this week put in an offer on it, so we could live there forever. 

A drawing I did this week before the flood. 

Today, I am hearing from people who are getting out. They are saying that people should evacuate and that it will be at least 3-4 weeks that Lyons will be with out the basics : electricity, phones, sewer and gas... I am seeing photos of friends' houses that were destroyed and friends' houses we thought were destroyed but are bone dry. These natural disasters have no rhyme or reason. 

What I do know for certain. I love Lyontown more than any place on Earth. I knew that from the minute I first came to that town all those years ago. This town will rebuild. Our communal love for this place we all chose to spend our lives will get us through. 

I read on Facebook this morning that Annie and Eben are ok. Their house is flooded but still standing... 

Annie and Eben Taken in July at the Grace Design 20 year anniv party in Lyons. (by Jami Lunde) 

 It feels really weird to not be in Lyons right now with my friends, neighbors and community. I am alone here in Frisco with my dogs. There is nothing I can do now, no way in to town and no reason to get in the way. I am doing what I can though from here...Organizing a benefit concert for Wed Sept 18 at Oskar Blues Home Made Liquids and Solids...where we will raise money and take donations for Lyons' flood victims. As usual, it's the least I can do. When things get more stable, I will offer my cleaning services to my friends and neighbors who need it. 

When I was about 14 my house was burned down by a serial arsonist. We had no insurance and no  money. It was 3 days after Christmas...our town gathered around us. The folk music venue my Mom ran, hosted a benefit for us where all the musicians played. It got us back on our feet. Life was forever changed but we still had a life to live. That's what we do...we just do what has to be done. The waters will go down, the debris will get cleaned up, and we will rebuild and We will talk about this flood for the rest of our lives and we will continue living the dream.

Sunset in Lyons...

 These are the lyrics I wrote March 20, 2011

Lyontown

YOU GAVE ME A HOME WHEN I HAD NO PLACE TO GO

YOU GAVE ME HOPE WHEN I WAS AT THE END OF MY ROPE

YOU FOUND ME WORK WHEN MY POCKETS WERE EMPTY

WHEN I FALL YOU ALWAYS CATCH ME

I OPEN THE WINDOWS I FEEL THE SPRING BLOWING IN

LOOKS LIKE I MADE IT THOUGH THE WINTER AND I'M WAKING UP AGAIN

YOU ARE THE PLACE WHERE I QUIET MY MIND

YOUR ARMS HOLD ME ALL THROUGH THE NIGHT

LYONTOWN 

I CAN'T LEAVE YOU BUT I'VE NEVER REALLY TRIED

WITH ALL THIS SUNSHINE, BLACK BIRDS AND BLUE SKIES

I AM YOUR AND YOU ARE MINE WE GO TOGETHER LIKE CHERRY BLOSSOMS AND SPRING TIME

LYONTOWN

LYONTOWN

LYONTOWN

YOU GAVE ME FRIENDS WHEN I WAS SO ALL ALONE

YOU BROUGHT ME TO THE RIVER WHERE I SIT AND STACK THE STONES

YOU BROUGHT ME MUSIC AND NEW SONGS TO SING

SEEMS LIKE ROUND HERE THERE'S MUSIC IN EVERYTHING

I WAS SO YOUNG WHEN WE FIRST MET

ALL THOSE YEARS AGO AND I'M NOT TIRED OF YOU YET

AN OLD AIRSTREAM IS MY HUMBLE ABODE

I AM JUST LUCKY YOU LET ME CALL YOU HOME

LYONTOWN

LYONTOWN

LYONTOWN

JAMI LUNDE