I dreaded leaving like I always do when I get used to the routine of being home. I love being a husband and father and I get in the mindset where I am perfectly content to never stray from my yard. As the date to leave for our European tour approached, I complained about having to go, and in retrospect I can see that being perceived as ungrateful behavior, knowing how lucky we are to see the world through our music. We had played just a few European dates in the past, one in Germany and a couple more in Northern Ireland. Truthfully, I was leary of the unknown. We would return to Germany, but also scheduled shows in Denmark, France, and Italy. Would we be able to connect with our audiences? Would they like our music? Would we be able to navigate a tricky train schedule having never tried that mode of travel before? Thankfully, Leigh put in a lot of legwork in preparation for this tour. He always does, but our European tour required a lot of thought and troubleshooting.

We flew overnight from Boston to Iceland to Copenhagen, Denmark. I made the mistake of crashing in my motel room in the middle of the afternoon. I would pay for it. My schedule was thrown off to the degree that I would get one hour of sleep for the next three nights. Oh, I would nod off on the train for a little bit here and there in the next few days, but overall, I was sleepless for the first third of our trip. Sleep-deprived and all, I was able to take in the physical beauty of Copenhagen and to enjoy the friendliness of the people we met. I was so impressed with the Danes' ability to speak so many languages so well. A girl at a coffee shop told me that she started taking English at eleven and German at fourteen. I met others who could speak French and Swedish. We had absolutely no problems being understood in Denmark. Our show in Copenhagen went very well. The highlight for me was performing "Arleigh," a request for a gentleman who said he had driven a long way to hear it. My grandfather would never have believed that someone in Denmark would want to hear a song about him. I lay awake until 3 a.m. and then gave up trying to sleep. I dug my notebook out and finished a song I had tried to write for a decade. I went downstairs to the lobby to try to find other signs of life when Joe Walsh came bounding down the stairs. "Wanna go for a walk?" he asked. Joe is all about experiencing life. He has a very curious mind and is not going to waste time in this world. He wants to see it all. We walked to downtown Copenhagen on a glorious morning witnessing architecture that we just don't get to see, the only blot on the morning being that we got chased down the street by a couple of working girls at 5:30 a.m. No thank you. They aren't lazy, I'll give them that.

We got off to a rocky start on our first train ride at 8:30 a.m. We got on the wrong section of the train and had to make our way with all of our luggage and instruments through several cars and past many disgruntled people. Once we got our bearings, we were fine and made it to Aalborgh, Denmark, relatively unscathed. Our show that evening went off without a hitch, another full house of grateful people. I returned to my hotel room happy, but again could not find sleep. Leigh had no problem, and Clayton, Joe, and Mike crashed a blues club downtown where they sat in with the band. I tossed and turned and then found my notebook and finished another song that I'd been working on for two years. We caught our next train and stayed on the tracks all day until we reached Buehl, Germany in the evening. Our driver drove us to the hotel at speeds passing 150 kilometers per hour. It was exhilerating. I could not wait to find a bed. I ended up watching BBC until I heard the birds singing at 4 a.m. They inspired me to write a brand new song at that lonely hour.

We were excited to play at the Buehl Bluegrass Festival. Top bands from all over Europe were there along with Nashville's Alecia Nugent and her band. We had a wonderful meal together downtown before taking the stage for two evening sets. I have never experienced that many cameras going off for that long during a show. The room was full and the people were as enthusiastic as could be. We received four encores. Heady stuff. I don't know if it was jetlag or being high on adrenaline, but I never slept. Unfortunatly, I couldn't keep my eyes open through a magnificent ride through the Swiss Alps. Every time I opened my eyes, another brilliant vista would appear. Soon my eyelids would close. I just couldn't help it. I hope I get a chance to see that area again when I am well-rested. We reached La Roche du Suron, France, and after an eleven-hour sleep, I woke up to one of the prettiest days of my life in probably the most beautiful area I have ever seen. I vowed to bring Corina back with me. I went for a long walk in the French Alps and wrote another song. Later in the day, I walked through the town with Joe and Clayton. We entered a church built in the 1500's. I felt such peace there and didn't want to leave the space. Our show that evening gave me one of my highest highs as a musician. We connected with the crowd in a way I didn't think possible when I left our country. Many could not understand our language, but they could understand our music. We made attempts to speak to them in French and they appeared to get a real kick out of us, especially when Clayton ran up to the mic with his arms in the air and exclaimed, "Zut alors!" Afterwards, we celebrated with audience members with delicious food and drink and just really took the time as a band to verbalize how blessed we were to experience such a place.

We finished our tour in Torino, Italy playing to yet another wildly enthusiastic crowd. We met several musicians during the intermission and after the show. I was struck by the fact that these players love bluegrass and revere the founding fathers and mothers of the music as much as we do and how it must be even more difficult to find an audience as a bluegrass musician in Europe than it is in the USA. I respect the European bluegrass musicians so much for following the music in their hearts despite this difficulty. We took a train to Milan and spent one more beautiful day there, culminating in a night of great food and conversation with our new firends Massimo, Icaro, and Collim from Italy's Bluegrass Stuff. Oh yeah, I wrote another song that day. I had only written two in 2012 and I have five to show for my week and a half in Europe. I don't know if it was sleep-deprivation, sensory overload, lack of phone and computer access, or a combination of all these things. I do know that I returned home more proud of this band than ever and inspired to push myself even harder.

Eric

"I want to learn SONGS," I complained to my banjo instructor, Eric O'Hara. I was twelve years old and impatient. I could find melody notes to simple songs by ear on the banjo, but he insisted I learn the rolls in my Earl Scruggs instructional book. I didn't know much about this Earl Scruggs and wasn't so sure I needed to. I changed my tune when I listened to the Flatt and Scruggs at Carnegie Hall record Eric gave me. It changed my life as well. I wish I had a dollar for every time I listened to "Flint Hill Special." His playing and the audience response sent a chill up my spine. I dedicated myself to learning those rolls. I tried to soak everything up about him that I could, the timing, the taste, the tone. Banjo players all try to do that. We all fall short. I don't know another musician whose style has influenced so many. He is the template. He was not the first to put on picks and play in a three-finger style, but I believe he was the first to refine it and make it sound like pure magic. There is nothing tentative about even his earliest recordings. How does a young man pick a direction like that and single-mindedly forge ahead with his own style? I don't believe things like this just happen; I believe it is further evidence of God.

I'll never forget meeting Earl Scruggs in 1995. I acted like a fool falling over myself in the presence of my hero. He was in the lobby of a hotel in Owensboro, KY, just trying to mind his own business. I ran up to him like a blue-tick hound all starry-eyed. I don't know if my tongue was out or not. "I'm going to do something I've always wanted to do my whole life!" Earl took this as a warning and took a step back from the over-eager farm boy. His wife, Louise, took a step forward. "No, I just want to shake your hand," I explained. Real smooth. It was enough for me though. I got to meet Earl Scruggs and shake his hand, the right hand that changed music forever. He left this world last night at the age of 88. I feel thankful that I was able to live in the Age of Earl.

Eric

I have to be honest. I didn't pick up an instrument for close to a month dealing with Dad's life coming to a close and then trying to hold it together with him gone. Leigh didn't either. I thought surely our shows would suffer when we got back in the saddle, but, luckily for us, Mike, Joe and Clayton picked up the slack for us. They obviously had been playing a lot, and they carried us until we caught up. Diving back into our work has been the best thing we could do. We were gone something like twenty-five days out of thirty. In addition to the shows, we filled our time with so much work that we hardly had time to think. We played a bunch of shows in the Southeast and Midwest as well as the SPBGMA awards in Nashville where we picked up honors for Album of the Year, Songwriters of the Year, and Song of the Year. We recorded a performance/interview with Kyle Cantrell for Sirius XM's Bluegrass Junction to be aired shortly, and did radio with Eddie Stubbs and Bill Cody at WSM. We also wrote a song with Shawn Camp, easily one of our favorite Nashville Cats. The people were warm everywhere we went and we really felt like we were on a roll. Everytime I found myself reaching for the phone to call Dad, I tried to busy myself with exercise or music. Just stay moving.

After a run of ten days or so, we came home for a few. All the movement came to a stop as I looked up at the North Country sky in the middle of the night, full of stars and free of any sort of city haze. I could sense Dad all around me and my heart went back to feeling like a grapefruit in my chest. What do you do? He's our dad. He's worth grieving over and I can't run from it. When I love, it's all in. I found myself smelling a hat of his to try to catch his scent, but it was gone. I drove by the farm and I swear I could see us playing ball again. I purposely try to dream about him, but he hasn't made an appearance yet. He will. I feel like I belong to this new club. I keep running across other members who give me knowing looks and words of encouragement. They all tell me the same thing: you don't get over it. Eventually, the sting goes away, but you don't get over it. It is getting easier. We went out on the road for another ten days and pushed it just as hard. When I returned home, my heart wasn't as heavy. Thank God for a strong family and for giving me an outlet I can pour myself into. What would I do without music?

Eric

I got through the song the night before in Ithaca with less trouble than I imagined I would. Leading up to and immediately following Dad's death, I told myself I'd never sing "Farm of Yesterday" again. How could I? I cried when I wrote it. It tore my heart out to write it and I've found myself getting choked up many times on stage, remembering. I fought back emotions in places I knew my father would never see, like Ireland or California. I thought about it all day on Friday, knowing it was one of our most popular songs, knowing that some diehard fans would be waiting to see if we'd do it or not, and wondering if Leigh would want to do it. Leigh has been licking his wounds as well. Leigh and I have been through so much together, but the past few weeks was like nothing we'd been through before. I thought our bond was tight before. It was nothing like it is now. I hadn't even brought up the song to him, but towards the end of our last set at La Tourelle Resort, I asked, "What about 'Farm of Yesterday.'" He nodded and put a capo on his guitar. The band played it beautifully and we got through it. I steeled myself to a degree and we got a beautiful response. I had made up my mind that I wouldn't quit paying tribute to him. We gave him his flowers while he was living and would continue with him gone. Leigh said that he wondered if I wanted to do it and was glad that we did.

Saturday night was different. For one thing, Chazy is only a half hour or so from Ellenburg Depot. There were 600 or so people packed into the auditorium, a lot of them people who have supported us for twenty years now. Mom was in the front row. Dad was not. I tried not to look at Mom too much. She is such a strong woman and she laughed at all the typical Leigh/Eric foolishness. She has always done that, laughing at times when she really shouldn't have. I love her for it. Nearing the end of the show, I again asked Leigh. This time he announced the song and I saw those sad eyes that I've seen for weeks. Dad's eyes. I made the mistake of looking at Mom and my heart went even heavier. The song kicked in, and this time my voice was full of emotion, maybe too much. By the end of the second verse, some of the notes were breaking in the middle, but there was no question we were back on the farm with that strong man, that great man who never felt good enough...he should know we saw him as a king and we still do...the words were battering my already broken heart.

During Joe's mandolin solo, I gathered myself together. I could feel Dad telling me to toughen up. I delivered that final verse with power and pride and I felt Leigh do the same thing on the final chorus, a true tribute to a man and wife who made it through a lot of tough times. It felt good. When we played the song's last chord, the audience rose to its feet and I realized that I was shaking and that the tears were flowing as those kind folks poured out their hearts. I wasn't the only one. Many in the audience had read the obituary, had heard the song many times before, and they were telling us something with their ovation. We are one lucky band to have made a connection with people down through the years, people who feel like they know us through our music, that they know our family through our music. It has not been a product of any kind of phony marketing plan. Leigh and I will never forget that moment, and I know the rest of the band won't either. I cannot adequately express gratitude to those people for the moment they gave to us and to our mother.

Eric

When I wrote in my journal last, I was experiencing the euphoria of the band being recognized by the IBMA for Album of the Year and Vocal Group of the Year. You can't stay up forever. If I walked around constantly with the grin I've seen in pictures of me after the awards show, I would expect someone to rightfully smack me. Dad said, "You look drunk" when he saw us holding our trophies on the front page of Plattsburgh's Press-Republican. I definitely wasn't, but I was high on life.

Like I said, those highs don't and can't last, and while I haven't been as high, I have been happy. We entered our traditionally quiet time of the year, musically-speaking, not long after IBMA. Even though we haven't been on the road much lately, I still feel like I've been going a hundred miles per hour with the responsibilities of being a father, husband, and son, and that's a good thing. We have been doing some renovation around the house, and my very able brothers-in-law continue to make me feel inept at anything other than music. I try my best to help, but I notice they send me to Lowe's a lot and that maybe my best help has been to stay out of their way. I did do a decent job of painting the kitchen and diningroom, according to my father-in-law.

Leigh left for South Dakota for a pheasant hunt and a show with some red-hot pickers/hunters on Thanksgiving weekend, so I booked a solo show at Dick's Country Store and Music Oasis in Churubusco, NY, my old stomping grounds. It seemed like a good idea when I booked it, but as the day approached, I got cold feet. "What have I done?" I complained to Corina. "You'll do fine," she assured me. "They will love you." I had been playing music my whole life, but I had never done a solo show. It was just me, my guitar, a new beard to hide behind, and my fancy Tom Horn-style cowboy jacket I bought in Nashville a few years back. When kicked into my first song, I was taken aback by how lonesome it sounded. I'm used to the BOOM of Mike's bass, Leigh's hammering guitar, Joe's steady rhythm chop, and Clayton drawing that bow along with me. It was just me and I was afraid it wasn't enough. By the third song, I felt confident enough to try a new one I had written with Joe Newberry. Some of the people stood after the song. What a feeling! They asked for it as my encore as well, something that has never happened before. I had high hopes for the song after it was written and they are higher now. Kelley joined me on stage near the end of the show to play a few of his mandolin originals. I doubt there are many better feelings than sharing the stage with your son. I enjoyed the evening and would try it again, but it didn't compare to being up there with the band. I love the power of picking in a bluegrass setting.

I have worried about the journal being too Eric-centric, but Leigh has no interest in sharing his thoughts at this point. So allow me to brag about my first buck. I bought my license a few weeks ago on a Saturday morning because my twelve year-old, Kieran, kept bugging me to take him hunting. He sat with me a few times last year at the foot of one of Leigh's tree stands on our property in the Town of Clinton and we never saw anything but a few crows and a squirrel. Still, he listed "hunten" as one of his favorite activities on a poster I saw at his school on Spaghetti Dinner Night, so when my wife suggested I take him, I did. After four hours of sitting in the woods together on the same day I bought my license, I harvested a seven-pointer that dressed out at 150 pounds. I also received a gash above my eye from looking too closely to the scope before I pulled the trigger. I am no big hunter. I had only ever seen one other buck in the woods and missed him when I was eighteen. I was not prepared. I just thought it would be nice to hang out with Kieran for the day. I had no rope, so I had to drag the deer about 300 feet through brush and across a stream. I had no truck nor any cell service, so I bottomed out three times with my 2001 Oldsmobile driving from camp to get him. And yes, I picked him up and stuffed him in the trunk. I walked into Mom and Dad's kitchen and with my bloody face and asked them to come look in my trunk. I think it was one of the shocks of Dad's life. Leigh has shot plenty of bucks. A few days later, Dad said, "I'm proud of you." I said, "Proud of me? I'm not. That was luck. I'm proud of Album of the Year. We worked for THAT." Plus, you don't cut your head open making records. Well, not usually.

I received more congratulatory phone calls that night than after the awards show. Heck, I didn't get that many calls after either of my kids were born. Corina is so sick of me talking about it, but it really is nice when a totally unexpected and positive surprise pops up. I will never forget that day and I know Kieran won't either. We'll have to try "hunten" again.

Eric

People kept telling us we were going to bring home awards from the International Bluegrass Association in Nashville. I thought with seven nominations that we might have a chance, but I purposely kept my expectations low to avoid being crushed if we came away with nothing. I told people that we had already won because we had seen an uptick in interest from promoters since the news of our nominations came out. In my private moments, I would look at every category and think there was a very good possibility that we'd have to be satisfied with the nominations alone. I was steeling myself for that to be enough. I had a friend text me saying, "I'm praying for you." I texted back, "Pray I can handle losing." We don't do this for awards. We do it for the love of the music. However, the awards help us to continue making music because they can really help a career. I pray for other things. I pray for my family and all my loved ones. I pray for strength. I don't pray for trophies. Not usually. God doesn't love the winners any more than He does the losers, on a stage or an athletic field. That said, I thank God for putting me with the group of guys he has and that our music is touching hearts, touching them enough that we get to come home with trophies for Vocal Group of the Year and Album of the Year.

After all the waiting, the show at Country Music's Mother Church, the Ryman Auditorium, went by in a blur for me. Sam Bush was an excellent host. I love how he recounted hearing a musician play a Monroe-style mandolin song for Bill Monroe. Monroe said, "That's good. Now what can you do?" What can you do? That rang in my head all night. We heard wonderful performances throughout the evening and applauded as people we now count as friends were announced and won or lost awards. I was happy for every single person who won, even in categories we hoped to win. You cannot argue with Russell Moore for Male Vocalist. He is a machine. The same can be said about Gospel Performance. Three of my heroes, Doyle Lawson, J.D. Crowe, and Paul Williams won. I love that record. I knew Song of the Year would be tough because "Trains I Missed" is an incredible song done by a wonderful band (and new friends), Balsam Range. Entertainer of the Year? No one is bringing bluegrass to the masses more than Steve Martin and the Steep Canyon Rangers. Millions of people are getting a taste because of Steve's unabashed love for the banjo. I was so happy to see the bluegrass faithful at the Ryman treat him him so warmly.

As the names were being announced for Vocal Group of the Year, I thought the odds were against us. We are a duet. The other acts were wonderful, and all featured duos, trios, even quartets. What chance did we have? When our name was announced, we were backstage getting ready for our performance. I don't even rermember who announced us. I heard our names and asked Jason Carter of the Del McCoury band to hold my banjo. I said, "Man, that makes you look a lot smarter." I know I didn't thank everyone I should have. We didn't prepare any kind of speech because we didn't want to jinx ourselves. We also wanted to be in the moment. Remember, we're the band who never writes a setlist for the same reason. Leigh was great. He thanked me and said he couldn't have done it without me because we really don't sound that good apart. The crowd laughed. The band had asked me if we won the award whether or not they should join the singers on stage. I insisted. I told the audience that our vocals were allowed to shine because our band supports our singing so beautifully. Mike, Clayton, and Joe are so selfless. They never take a night off, never take a song off. They give us their all every single time. I was so glad they were standing with us.

We set up to play "Help My Brother" while the legendary Del McCoury was being inducted. I was so happy that both Del and George Shuffler were inducted into IBMA's Hall of Honor, both so deserving. I was proud of how we performed. I mean, there's more than a little pressure when the best pickers in the world are either in the audience or waiting in the wings. We didn't get caught up in that. We just did our thing. After our performance, Leigh and I settled back in our seats in time to hear the nominees announced for Album of the Year as the other guys milled around in the very cramped backstage area. I won't lie. Leigh and I really wanted this one. I told my closest friends leading up to Thursday night that if we could get one, this is the one we wanted. All the other albums in our category were worthy as well and it would have been no shame to lose to any one of them. As Tim O'Brien paused before reading the winner, I'll admit I prayed silently, "Please God." Maybe it was selfish, but I did it. I felt "Help My Brother" was the culmination of Leigh, Mike (co-producer, of course) and I pounding the roads together for eighteen years. The record represented some of our best writing and wonderful writing by Chris Henry, Joe Newberry, Tim O'Brien, and Jon Weisberger. It included songs by influences Jim and Jesse, the Louvins, and O'Kanes and performances with Ricky Skaggs and Claire Lynch, two real-life musical heroes who were willing to join us. It has been #1 for five months in Bluegrass Unlimited. I felt we had a legitimate chance and wanted it badly enough to pray for it. "And the winner is..."Help My Brother" by the Gibson Brothers!" Thank you, Tim O'Brien, for reading it. Thank you, Lord, for everything else, for keeping us safe and for giving us talent and inspiration, and for putting people in our lives who make this possible. There are people I neglected to mention in the rush of it all, but I'm so happy I was able to thank Corina and the boys. I hadn't planned on saying it, but I meant it. Corina has been married to me for sixteen years. It is not easy being married to a musician, but she has never made me choose between her and the music. God bless that girl. I thought of my parents and the farm I still dream about. I thought about a lot of things. I hope I made sense.

I have never seen Leigh or Mike happier. Clayton and Joe were flying high as well, but I haven't spent eighteen hours in a van with them since the show like I have Leigh and Mike. We laughed and joked all the way back to New York. I think it was just a feeling of "we did it." We will not rest on our laurels. We know there is always room for improvement and that goal stays the same, but for once we're not the baseball team that says yet again, "Wait 'til next year." This year, next year is now for the Gibson Brothers. We are so grateful to all who made it possible. Thank you.

Eric

I know, I don't have a radio show, but if I did, this is what I'd be playing on WGIB according to my iPod's Top 25:

1. New Year's Day -- Charlie Robison
2. Coyotes -- Don Edwards
3. Cheatin' Heart Attack -- Dale Watson
4. Scare Easy -- Mudcrutch
5. Roland the Headless Thompson Gunner -- Warren Zevon
6. Vegas -- Two Tons of Steel
7. Red Rocking Chair -- Big Medicine
8. Whiskey Angel -- The Black Lillies
9. What A Helluva Way To Go -- Blue Moon Rising
10. Leave The Light On -- Chris Smither
11. Staying Up All Night Long -- Chris Knight
12. If Hollywood Don't Need You -- Don Williams
13. You Don't Want My Love -- Doug Kershaw
14. Before The Next Teardrop Falls -- Freddy Fender
15. Laughing River -- Greg Brown
16. Arizona Star -- Guy Clark
17. Shaky Town -- Jackson Brown
18. Natural High -- Merle Haggard and Janie Frickie
19. Blown Away -- Jeff Lynne
20. Wild and Blue -- John Anderson
21. Clay Pigeons -- John Prine
22. I Look For You -- Kevin Welch
23. El Paso City -- Marty Robbins
24. Ghost Train Four-Oh-Ten -- Marty Stuart and the Fabulous Superlatives
25. The Grandpa That I Know -- Shawn Camp

Eric

Forgive us if we've been a little giddy on stage since the 2011 IBMA nominations were announced, but we are just so happy to be recognized with seven nods. We knew we were making inroads, getting in front of more people than ever this year and receiving strong airplay (the two go hand in hand, don't they?, but we didn't anticipate this kind of jump. Every category is filled with strong candidates, and we may come away with no trophies, but to be in the conversation makes us proud and thankful. Speaking of proud, I am so proud of Leigh. He is such a good singer. I called him after the announcement was made that he'd been nominated for Male Vocalist, and he was almost apologetic. "Well, it's because we're known for our duet, and I happened to sing lead on the songs that were nominated, and..."

No, Leigh, you are a great singer who is being recognized as such. Enjoy this. I have always been amazed by his tone, his range, his ability to blend, and his phrasing. He's my favorite singer (well, other than Merle Haggard) and I'm proud of him. I think he's a little embarrassed by it all so he cracks wise. I announced his nomination on stage at an Irish festival in Bennington, VT, and he said, "Thank you. I couldn't have done it without you. If folks didn't have your singing to compare me to, it never would have happened."

He's a funny guy. As Hurricane Irene approached, we were playing the Blistered Fingers Festival in Litchfield, Maine, and it was announced that the event would be cut short by a day and we would be the final band on Saturday night. The people who remained were enjoying the show, but there was a sense of dread as to what the weather would bring. After a fine response from the audience after an uptempo number, Leigh replied, "Thank you so much. But why do I feel like the band on the Titanic?" Earlier in the day, he warned the crowd that they'd be finding lobsters in the trees over the next few days. His mind works in mysterious ways. But he sure can sing.

Eric

Many miles have passed since I last wrote in my journal. I apologize to those who follow along for not tending to this, but life has gotten in the way. Trying to balance everything proves tough from time to time, and I have been stretched in ways I didn't think possible in the past few months. I am fine and stronger than I realized, but I think I'd rather be weak and untested. Musically, we have been enjoying a strong season on stage and on the charts. "Help My Brother" has topped the Bluegrass Unlimited and Bluegrass Music Profiles albums and singles charts for multiple months and "Singing As We Rise" and "Walkin' West to Memphis" have had chart success as well. We recently had excellent exposure on Katy Daley's three hour Master's Class on WAMU's Bluegrass Country and on Kyle Cantrell's Track-by-Track on Sirius XM. We received some outside-the-bluegrass-world coverage in Acoustic Guitar with a fine article by Kenny Berkowitz. I have said it so many times, but what a feeling it is to go places we've never been and to find that people are familiar with the songs and our story. This is what we've been working towards for a long time. People keep telling me how happy they are for us. I tell them that we are reaping the rewards of showing up for twenty years.

I would say the biggest highlight of the past few months was our trip to the Yukon. Clayton, Joe, and I went up early to teach at Kluane Bluegrass Camp for several days before Mike and Leigh joined us to play the festival in Whitehorse on the weekend. The people were so warm and treated us like kings. The scenery was jaw-dropping. I enjoyed the 23 or so hours of sunlight and the lighting in general up there. It tickled me to be called a 'southern boy.' I guess just about everybody is 'southern' to someone in the Yukon. The camp was in the wild, and I spent a good share of my time looking over my shoulder for grizzlies. The locals seemed to have a devil-may-care approach. "Ah, only about one person a year gets eaten. You're more likely to get hit by lighning." Well, I was almost killed by lightning on a mountain in Virginia, so I looked out for them anyway. A bunch of us went for a bike ride to the Yukon River. Bear spray and little bells were the deterrent we brought. I'd have preferred a higher calibre, myself. It was fun jamming with the folks up there. They play a lot of Fred Eaglesmith, which is fine by me. The food was delicious and healthy and I came away from the experience feeling good mentally and physically. I hope they invite the Southern Boys back soon.

I have seen a lot of baseball this summer. My youngest son, Kieran, made the Malone All-Stars (11-12 year-olds). I drove through several Saturday nights to get to see Sunday baseball. He tried catching for the first time this year and I cannot believe how quickly he took to it. He's blocking pretty well, has a strong arm, and frames pitches like someone much older. I can't teach him much because I never caught. He made the all-stars as a catcher and made me very proud. His hitting came on toward the end of the season. I almost fell asleep three times driving from New Hampshire in the rain last Saturday night in order to watch him, but I would have missed seeing him get three hits, the last a booming RBI double to center. I know it's stupid to risk it like that, but I miss too much. I need to be there when I can, and if I'm within striking distance, I'll do whatever it takes. Time is passing too quickly and I need to make my mark.

Eric

Wayne Henderson is one cool cat. We met the luthier/fingerpicking master in February at Wintergrass and hit it off. My friend Eddie Greenwood's Uncle Tom let me borrow one of his guitars, a Henderson, and I loved it. Uncle Tom Sulock actually has TWO Hendersons and Leigh and I jammed on both of these exquisite guitars, smiling the whole time. After our performances at Wintergrass, Leigh and I rode with Trisha Tubbs to a nearby Grange Hall to attend a Wayne Henderson performance. His picking was wonderful as was his wit. He invited us onstage for a few numbers. I think we are musical kin. Fast forward a month and a half or so when we were touring the Southeast. We had a couple of days off in the middle of the week, so Leigh and I drove to Wayne's in Rugby, VA, Population 7. We had heard of The Crooked Road, Highway 58, but had never experienced this beautiful and treacherous stretch of blacktop. I am afraid of heights, much to the delight of my band mates. Something about sheer drop offs with no guardrails really bothers me. In fact, it makes sweat beads pop out on my forehead. I've experienced similar feelings in California and in Colorado. The ride was worth it to see Wayne's shop and to meet his daughter Elizabeth. She had my number. We were talking about Facebook, and I said that I really couldn't have the Instant Messaging function on with 5,000 friends. I said, "I'd never get any work done." Right away, she said, "Oh, that's right. You're FAMOUS." I felt my face turn red. "No, I didn't mean it that way." She and Leigh had a good laugh at my expense. We picked with Wayne and swapped stories (his stories were way better!). He let us play so many of his beautiful guitars and ended our visit by firing a small cannon off that sent the horses in the hilly field across the road running. In between, Wayne invited us to play his festival next June. We look forward to it. I like Wayne. He's talented and likes to laugh. Good combo.

Eric