Your presence is welcome
With me and my friend here
This is a hangout of mine
We come here quite often and listen to music
Partaking of yesterday's wine
Yesterday's wine
Yesterday's wine
Aging with time
Like yesterday's wine
Yesterday's wine
Yesterday's wine
We're aging with time
Like yesterday's wine
You give the appearance of one widely traveled
I'll bet you've seen things in your time
So sit down beside me and tell me your story
If you think you'll like yesterday's wine
Yesterday's wine
Yesterday's wine
Aging with time
Like yesterday's wine
Yesterday's wine
Yesterday's wine
We're aging with time
Like yesterday's wine
Monday, April 16, 7 P.M.
JUST FINISHED MY SECOND RUN for today. I'm trying to get ready for a run in Austin on October 21, a benefit for Farm Aid. The run is sponsored by the city of Austin, Runner's World, New Balance, RunTex, and hopefully twenty thousand runners.
A press conference was held in Boston at the Hard Rock Cafe to promote the run in Austin. Everyone was already in town for the Boston Marathon, which was today. The winning time for the men was two hours and nine minutes, and the winning time for the women was two hours and fourteen minutes. A lot of people from Farm Aid, New Balance, and Runner's World were there. It turned out to be a very positive press conference. We all agreed to make the run in Austin a huge success for Farm Aid, and I'm sure it will be.
David was reminding me of our first Farm Aid concert. Thanks to our old friend Buddy Lee, we were able to pull it off. With only twentyone days to go, Buddy gave us a hundred thousand dollars to promote it. We made more money on that first concert than we have since. Buddy, you were a great friend and a credit to your profession, or all your many professions.
Buddy was a professional wrestler turned talent promoter, and opened a booking agency in Nashville, the Buddy Lee Talent Agency, of which I was proud to be with. We had many happy years and times together. Thank you, Buddy Lee, wherever you are.
Also we can't forget our friend Paul Corbin and The Nashville Network for coming to the rescue. They offered to broadcast three hours of the first Farm Aid. I said at a press conference they would broadcast all twelve hours, and they did. I think they were glad they did—I know I was. I hear that Paul's at BMI now, replacing Roger Sovine. I know he'll do a good job there. Thanks, Paul.
TODAY IS TAX DAY, and it's all over the TV. I think you should be able to write a letter to your tax man explaining to him how your tax bill is way too high and there must be some way to work it out. The letters would then be rated on originality and sincerity. The winner would never have to pay their taxes again. Kinda like a contest. The first million winners would live tax-free forever. The rest of the letter writers would be awarded a deferment on their taxes. What do you think?
THERE'S A GUY on TV lifting eleven pounds of iron with his eyelids. That reminds me of the guy who went to a house of ill repute. When the madam opened the door, the man said, “I would like to experience something different. Do you have anything on your menu that would be different than anything I've ever experienced? I'll be happy to pay you well.”
The madam said, “Sir, you're in luck! I know just the girl for you. Her name is Alice, in room 601.”
The guy goes to room 601 and opens the door. Alice comes to the door. The guy explains how he wants something different, and Alice says, “Have you ever been winked off ?”
“No, I don't think I have. What is that?”
“I'll show you.” Alice reached up and pulled out her glass eye. She said, “Just put it in.”
He did, and they did, and when it was all over he said, “My God. That was the best sex I've ever had. When I'm back in town, I want to come back here to see you.”
She said, “Great! I'll keep an eye out for you.”
L.G. AND DAVID have gone to Denny's, and Gator is probably sleeping. This is a day off and I'm alone on the bus. Lana went home for some physical therapy on her neck. I know she'll be fine in a little while. So, sister Bobbie fed me breakfast this morning—bacon, ham and eggs. A fan gave me the ham last night at the show. I've been eating on it all day.
When I recorded the Red Headed Stranger album, I had in mind doing a Red Headed Stranger movie to go along with it. I had a big dream of an album and movie out at the same time, each promoting the other. It didn't work out that way. It was ten years after the album came out before I could make the movie. My idea of having them come out together was down the drain already by then. However, I still thought the movie was a good idea.
I went to my friend Bill Wittliff who had written the movie Barbarosa, and asked him to write the RHS script, and he did. He wrote a great script but we still needed the money. I asked my friend Don Tyson for some seed money. He came through, along with a few other close friends. A banker in Austin agreed to handle the RHS movie account. An Austin investment company had agreed to come up with the rest of the movie money, and we were in business.
The Red Headed Stranger
There were disagreements between me and the investment company, so they dropped out, leaving us in the middle of the first week of shooting. You have a hundred-thousand-dollar-a-week payroll to meet, and your backer backs out. Well, I started writing hot checks. The banker, for whatever reason, never bounced a single check. I guess he liked me and believed I would eventually pay up.
I had done an interview with Cheryl McCall and People magazine. She was now covering the making of RHS for Life magazine. She knew all about the money guys falling out and the banker staying with me. She went back to the East Coast and was telling our story to Carolyn Mugar, who we later nicknamed the “Mysterious Woman from Boston.” Carolyn turned out to be a huge fan of mine and asked Cheryl how much did I need to make the movie? To make a long story short, she brought down a check large enough to cover my hot checks and enough to finish the whole movie. Needless to say, she is still one of my closest friends, and now runs our Farm Aid offices in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Thank you, God, for Carolyn Mugar.
Time of the Preacher
It was the time of the preacher
When the story began
The choice of a lady
And a love of a man
And how he loved her so dearly
He went out of his mind
When she left him for someone
She'd left behind
He cried like a baby
He screamed like a panther
In the middle of the night
And he saddled his pony
And went for a ride
It was the time of the preacher
In the year of '01
Now the preaching is over
And the lesson's begun
Blue Rock Montana
Well, he rode into Blue Rock
Dusty and tired
And he got him a room for the night
And he lay there in silence
With too much on his mind
Still hoping that he was not right
But he found them that evening
At a tavern in town
In a quiet little out-of-the-way place
And they smiled at each other
When he walked through the door
And they died with their smiles on their faces
They died with a smile on their face
The Red Headed Stranger
The red headed stranger from Blue Rock Montana
Rode into town one day
And under his knees was a raging black stallion
And walking behind was a bay
The red headed stranger had eyes like the thunder
His lips they were sad and tight
For his little lo
st love lay asleep on the hillside
And his heart was heavy as night
Don't cross him
Don't boss him
He's wild in his sorrow
He's riding and hiding his pain
Don't fight him, don't spite him, just wait
till tomorrow
And maybe he'll ride on again
A yellow haired woman leaned out of her window
Watched as he passed her way
She drew back in fear at the sight of the stallion
But cast greedy eyes on the bay
He bought her a drink and he gave her some
money
He just didn't seem to care
She followed him out as he saddled his stallion
Laughed as she grabbed at the bay
He shot her so quick they had no time to warn her
She never heard anyone say
Don't cross him
Don't boss him
He's wild in his sorrow
He's riding and hiding his pain
till tomorrow
And maybe he'll ride on again
The yellow haired woman was buried at sunset
The stranger went free of course
You can't hang a man for killing a woman
That's trying to steal your horse
Now this is the tale of the red headed stranger
And if he should pass your way
Stay out of the path of the raging black stallion
And don't lay a hand on the bay
Don't cross him
Don't boss him
He's wild in his sorrow
He's riding and hiding his pain
Don't fight him, don't spite him, just wait
till tomorrow
And maybe he'll ride on again
Denver
The bright lights of Denver
Are shining like diamonds
Like ten thousand jewels in the sky
And it's nobody's business where you're going
Or where you come from
And you're judged by the look in your eye
She saw him that evening
In a tavern in the town
In a quiet little out-of-the-way place
And they smiled at each other
As he walked through the doors
And they danced with their smiles on their faces
And they danced with a smile on their faces
I Guess I've Come to Live Here in Your Eyes
I guess I've come to live here in your eyes
This must be the place called paradise
You are so precious to me
And what a special time within our lives
So I guess I've come to live here in your eyes
A thousand times I see you
And a thousand times you take my breath away
On the bus, early morning
And fears and doubts consume me
I'm afraid someone will take it all away
I hope I'm here forever
But I think it's time that we both realized
That I guess I've come to live here in your eyes
I am still on the bus between a Holiday Inn and a cornfield. We're just outside Somewhere, Pennsylvania, watching the Mississippi flooding on CNN. It makes these Pennsylvania cornfields look very nice.
Did you hear about the drunk who leaned a little too close to a two-story apartment building window and fell out? He was laying on the sidewalk when someone ran up and asked what happened. The drunk looked up and said, “Hell I don't know. I just got here.”
THE NEW RAINBOW CONNECTION CDs just arrived so I can give some out to the press. Island Records once again came through like a champ. The David Zettner art work is exceptional, and I'm happy to see a photo of me and Dean Bird, my great-grandson. He's the son of my beautiful granddaughter Martha and Matt Hubbard, who's a musician and engineer, and the coproducer of Rainbow Connection. Matt Hubbard, remember that name. I believe you'll be hearing a lot more from him in the future.
6:10 P.M., Easter, Pennsylvania
THE STATE THEATER IS ON MY RIGHT and Church Street on my left. Did I tell you the publishers liked the book? Some of the best jokes I hear I get from the kids, my kids of course. Since Paula is a blonde, I get all the blonde jokes.
I like the one about the blonde twins. One was on one side of the room, and one was on the other. One blonde said, “Come over here” to her twin, who replied, “Hell, I am already over there!”
7:00 P.M.
LOU DOUGHERTY CAME BY THE BUS just a few moments ago. Lou is one of the oldest fans I have, and she's not really that old, we're about the same age. There is not a better fan in the world and I'm always glad to see her. She has probably seen over a hundred of our shows. If we're anywhere in Pennsylvania, she will be there. I forgot to ask her why she wasn't in Hershey the other night. She wasn't in Williamsport either. She has a lot of explaining to do.
I admire his courage and tenacity. But I'd still rather be on Church Street parked behind the State Theater, safe and dry on our Honeysuckle Rose #3. Honeysuckle #1 we wore out. Honeysuckle #2 we wrecked in Nova Scotia. We have over a half a million miles on #3.
THERE WAS JUST SOME LADY on CNN holding a sign that was very negative about drinking milk. I have heard all this bullshit about how bad dairy products are. I would like to say on behalf of dairy products that I have eaten eggs, bacon, and butter, and I drank plenty of milk my whole life. I am sixty-eight years old and in damn good shape. I do exercise quite a bit, and now I have started drinking skim milk. I have been on a no-sugar diet now for a few days. No fries, no bread, nothing with sugar. Nothing that will turn to sugar once eaten. Eggs, eggs, and more eggs. Now I would like to ask the lady holding the “no milk” sign just what is your problem? Why do you care whether or not I drink milk? As long as I drink milk responsibly, why is it any of your business? Get a life, lady. Eat more ice cream and lighten up, you'll live a longer life, or at least you won't be pissing people off by trying to run theirs.
I grew up in Abbott on the edge of town. We had a milk cow, chickens, and a garden. I raised a fat calf and a fat hog every year. I was a Future Farmer of America and proud to be one. The fresh organic vegetables from our garden and the livestock could not have been healthier. Now, I admit, nowadays when you buy eggs, meat, and milk, it's not the same. There's additives to give the milk a longer shelf life, and growth hormones given to the chickens and the cattle. Nothing tastes the same these days. Eggs coming from hens walking around on just a little bit of concrete eating questionable foods as opposed to eggs coming from chickens allowed to roam around scratching for worms, there is no comparing the taste.
Will You Remember Mine?
Sweet is the song when the song is love
Love that has stood the test of time
And when you've heard all the songs of love
Will you remember mine?
Gone are the times when I held you close
And pressed your lips to mine
Now when you kiss another's lips
Will you remember mine?
I have sat beneath the trees
While the cool summer breeze
Blew away the sands of time
And thought of days when you were near
Remembering when you were mine
Gone are the times when I walked with you
And held your hand in mine
Now when you hold another's hand
Will you remember mine?
Wednesday, April 19, Lowell, Massachusetts, 3:20 P.M.
I WOKE UP THIS MORNING and looked out the bus win
dow and saw snow, so I decided to go for a run. I started running and realized I was running around a golf course. Just my luck. The motel is next to a nine-hole golf course and it's snowing. I don't believe it.
This looks like a December day
This looks like a time-to-remember day
And I remember a spring
Such a sweet tender thing
Where love's summer college,
And the green leaves of knowledge
Were waiting to fall with the Fall
And where September wine
Numbed a measure of time
Through the tears of October
Now November's over
And this looks like a December day
This looks like a December day
It looks like we've come to the end of the way
And as my memories race back to
Love's eager beginning
Reluctant to play with the thoughts of the ending
The ending that won't go away
And as my memories race back to
Love's eager beginning
Reluctant to play with the thoughts of the ending
The ending that won't go away
And this looks like a December day
11:55 P.M., same day
THIS LADY WAS LAYING ON THE FLOOR without any clothes on doing her Jane Fonda workout. Her husband came in just as she was on her back with her legs up in the air. He said, “Honey, get up and put in your teeth and comb your hair. You're looking more and more like your mother every day!”
12:35 A.M., next day, same night
WE'RE ON THE WAY TO Trenton, New Jersey, and the War Memorial Auditorium, coming from the Lowell, Massachusetts Memorial Auditorium tonight, our last night. I know, I'm confused myself.
I used to play the White Horse bowling alley in Trenton several years ago. I'll bet it's not even there now. After Trenton we'll head to New York City and the Beacon Theater. I'm doing an interview with Dan Rather. That should be fun. He's an old Texas buddy. The other night he was the speaker and a presenter for the first Texas Artist Achievement Award, which I proudly received. He's a good man and I'm proud to know him.