Well fuck, now Jerry Jeff Walker is gone too. 2020, keeps mowing the great ones down. Prine, Little Richard, Kobe, RBG, this has been one miserable year. Not to mention the 1,152,489 other poor souls who have lost their lives to the microbe globally.
I sat next to a woman at the show who grew up next to Jerry Jeff when he was known as Ronnie back in Oneanta, New York. He could sure pour on the shitkicker schtick like he was raised in Ozona.
Paul is a professional bass player, used to play with a lot of big national acts, including the Association and Gary Puckett. Retired from his technical job at Legoland last year.
Paul and I have two kidneys between us, having both undergone a similar scalpel treatment at some point in time, his very recently.
His fared a little better than mine did, his guts aren't falling out. Anyway we have both had our tsoris of late, needed a good walk.
He told me that he had a friend that refuses to set his clocks back for the upcoming daylight savings time, doesn't want to spend one extra hour in this awful covid ridden annum that he doesn't have to. I concur.
He is getting into photography again and I told him to meet me there with a camera. I brought my small lens so I didn't get any birds to speak of, although the hawks were plentiful overhead. We grabbed a couple of obligatory shots of flora and rusty metal instead.