Easter Puppy

I told my 4 year old this story this morning. It's as true as I can remember, the hat may have been black or tan, but this is, essentially, non-fiction. 
Easter Puppy

I was 5 years old and my brothers, just a bit older, were playing with their new (plastic) golf clubs they had gotten for Easter. I wished I had golf clubs too, but I was more distracted by the thought of the 'big event' coming up. Every year, in Teutopolis, the tiny town where my mom grew up and where we spent most Sundays, the Knights of Columbus hosted a city-wide Easter Egg Hunt. I don't know if my brothers were too old for it or just didn't want to participate, but I was excited to go and my cousin Tim was too. 

My parents were off somewhere and we were staying with our grandparents and my Aunt Cathy, who was in high school at that time. I don't know who was supposed to be watching Tim and me, but in typical small town fashion, we were left to wander the field where the hunt was held. We filled our baskets up with colored boiled eggs and at the end, all the kids gathered around for the prizes. I was a pretty distracted child in general and I had no idea that there were any prizes to win. The men in charge, my grandpa among them in his brown cowboy hat and smoking a cigar, started calling out for specially marked eggs. They were standing by a table that had a number of prizes on it and I remember there was a cage with a beautiful puppy in it. 

One by one, the eggs were called (the blue egg with a white spot, the green and red egg, the egg with a star on it) and the kids would come forward and collect a prize. Most of the prizes were candy or cheap toys but toward the end, there were some fancier items like a Tonka truck and a toy John Deere tractor. I hadn't won anything and wasn't really expecting to. I had come to hunt eggs and I was pretty happy with my take. 

The excitement built as they were about to give away the grand prize and they asked who had the gold colored egg. I still wasn't really paying attention, and I think it was my cousin Tim who told me that I had the gold egg, I was the grand prize winner, I had won the puppy! Puppy? I won a puppy!? Tim and I were very excited about the puppy. I stepped forward with my egg and I showed it to my grandpa. 

"Oh boy" was his reaction. It wasn't "Oh boy!" like "Yay!", but the other "Oh boy", like "uh oh". There was some laughter at this as I walked over to the cage, Tim right beside me. And my grandpa leaned down and said, "Bill, are you sure you want a puppy?" My grandpa was a very smart man, and that is the dumbest thing I ever heard him say. Of course I wanted a puppy! I was a 5 year old boy! 

I don't remember what kind of puppy it was, but no doubt it had a fine pedigree. People in Teutopolis in 1971, even the kids, would not have considered a dog worth anything if it couldn't do something, or at least have some promise to do something useful in the future. It might have been a german short-haired pointer or an Australian shepard. But to me, and to every five year old on the planet, it was a PUPPY. The only thing that could exceed the value of a puppy was a pony. 

The negotiation was swift and ruthless. Tim lobbied for the puppy and was quickly taken out. I cried a little bit and was mollified. But I remember my grandpa, faced with the possibility of sending me home to my mom with a puppy, said to me: "What do you want? Anything you want, what is it?" And that is how I got my first set of golf clubs. 

Dishes

It's March 25th and we have been without water in the new (old) bus since we left Effingham, IL on March 5th. It's been below freezing since then too, until the last 24 hours, so even if we had water, it would have been solid. In any case, we have been having to figure out how to cook and do dishes without running water in the kitchen. It's not a first, but it's the longest we have gone under these conditions. 

Mostly we put the dirty dishes in a big bag and take them into a legion or a hotel room, wash and dry them, and bring them back to the bus. We often, inexplicably, lose items. Most recently, we lost a coffee press and several forks. But mostly, it just makes cooking in the bus WAY more challenging. 

These lazy days of March, when we only have three for four gigs per week with not a lot of driving involved, we get to spend a little time in Port Dover. It's nice here for us because we have lots of people to visit with and there is a nice RV park with a playground and beautiful view of Lake Erie. But this time of year the RV park is closed and we are spending more extended time at friends' houses. 

Blue and I were loafing around at our friends Suzy and Darrel Miller's house this afternoon and evening, chewing the fat, playing games while Suzy made a big, delicious pot of chili. After we had some dinner, Suzy went for a walk and Darrel and I were talking about how nice it is to have a place to park our butts, talk, not talk, stare at computer monitors, and not feel like we are imposing. Also not feeling like anybody has to entertain anybody. 

I started doing the dishes and Darrel told me that I didn't need to. I'm pretty good at letting people take care of me, not feeling guilty about eating their food and watching them do the dishes while I drink their beer. Of course I'm also just as likely to make them dinner and do the dishes as I go, and to bring enough beer for everyone. Making dinner and cleaning up after can be one of the best social experiences in my world, especially when people stand around in the kitchen, pour wine, get in the way and talk and gossip on whatever topics come to mind. It makes me feel loved and it makes me feel welcome. 

But cooking and/or doing the dishes by myself can be one of the most personally rewarding activities for me. Something about that simple, menial chore puts me in a comfortable 'home' space. It has to do with the domestic nature of it, but there is also something about being useful, purposeful. It makes me feel like I'm at 'home'. That is a feeling that I miss. 

Bill Poss Dispatches

I have been touring for most of the last 17 years, one way or the other. Four years ago, The Ginn Sisters joined the Fred Eaglesmith Band and my touring reached a new level. I have lived in an RV since then, with my wife Tif Ginn, my son Blue and for much of that time with Tif's sister Brit Ginn and her dogs Sola and Flora, respectively. We have had a lot of fun and a lot of adventures and we have seen more of the North American continent in that time than most Americans or Canadians will ever see.
Toward the end of 2012, I decided I would write a book detailing some of our adventures. It was originally meant to be a sort of yearbook, but it developed into more of a memoir. I called it the Bill Poss Travelogue: Dispatches from the Fred Eaglesmith Traveling Steam Show. I wrote most of the essays in the book but there are also contributions from Tif Ginn, Robbie Fulks and Cal Orok.
It was great fun and a lot of work. I hope you will check it out on my web-site: www.billpossmusic.com
I'll be blogging from time to time and this where you can find it. I hope to contribute at least once a week, but no promises. I mean to talk about our travels, gigs, life on the road, life in general, probably not much about politics, but no promises. I hope you will subscribe and keep me up-to-date with any feedback.
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