..rustle..old heritage train whitling its

..rustle..old heritage train whitling its way in this evening. So many of the scents we inherit from childhood get lost until you really need them! I live here in Prague now-so far from the Appalachians and the dreams as boys of starting bands that will change the world.Where we come from matters-the misty tobacco scented moon lit nights where I’m from. So many friends faces. A sense of mystery there in the North Carolina foothills. When you live a long while among the nations or on the road-or in rainbow teepees or RV’s, you have to often re-member (ie put back into your physical body) the old sounds at the end of the dead end street you grew up on. The smell of the woods on Friday night when you just knew that entering them was imminent. And..just so many trains. I wish I could gather all my musical friends for a night. It seems like I’ve been out here so long, many of them have cds and tours and others have passed on. The circus never ends, but every once and a while we have to remember where we come from.