And so I strummed and I sang and I strummed and I sang. An hour went by. People came and people went but almost nobody paid me any mind and showed me no appreciation. I began to wonder if this being thy brother’s keeper thing was going to pan out. My stomach growled. I looked in my case. I had a couple dollars. I would need that for gas for the car to run tonight for heat while I slept. Business was slow. So I switched it up and dove into a rendition of The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald by Gordon Lightfoot, which had proven to be a crowd pleaser in the past. Sure enough a preacher, a leader and representative of the community, walked up wearing a collar, a solemn smile on his pious face, and towing a small child by the hand, the good book and some pamphlets in his other hand pressed against his hip. He stood impassively for a moment or two looking on and listening while the child peered up with a look of curiosity from beside him. Mid song he let go the child, extended his hand, and introduced himself saying rather stiffly, “I am Father Tom.”
February 10, 2014
Yorkton: A Fallen Man Dreams Of Redemption, A Starving Man Dreams Of Food Pt. 2 of 2
February 2, 2014
Yorkton:A Fallen Man Dreams Of Redemption, A Starving Man DreamsOf Food Pt. 1 of 2
With nothing but the bare essentials of life packed in the trunk, which included an amount of camping gear, about $400 in cash, no credit cards, an assortment of cassette tapes, and a guitar along with a small amount of sheet music stowed in the back seat, I backed out of the driveway one last time and pointed the nose of the Mazda in the direction of the nearest highway with no clear idea where I was going or what would befall me. As it turns out, I would end up traveling not only across Western Canada by car but also in far away lands on foot and would return six years later a different man than when I left. For the first six months of that journey I would keep myself fed and gas in the car by busking, that is, performing in the street for money, at various stops along the way. In the heat of summer and the chill of spring and fall I sang for my supper, literally. read more