This Land Is Our Land

Last weekend my beautiful wife and I had the chance to truly escape. A concert, for which we had purchased tickets at least six months in advance, friends to watch all three lit'luns and a free hotel, provided by the slumping economy and central planning of the Doubletree Hotel. We shot to metropolitan Modesto, CA to see, for my first time, Arlo Guthrie, and two generations of family members perform in the newly-built Gallo Center for the Performing Arts. Modesto is closer to home than thought; we arrived more than a half-hour ahead of schedule which allowed us to primp and preen and find a place to have dinner. Downtown Modesto is one of those quaint and wonderful Valley towns that is in the attempts of growth and development. A walking mall with restaurants, a couple of theaters, bars and many empty storefront with facades written in two languages. We ate at a pan-American resturant and walked to the venue, a beautiful and modern, though a bit sterile theater. People mainly my parents' ages were in attendance and I was personally thrilled for what was ahead, though I actually had no idea what to expect. I had forgotten where our seats were since we bought them in October and we were pleasantly surprised to find that we were sitting in the fourth row, spot center. The theater filled and the show began. Sarah Lee Guthrie and Johnny Irions, Arlo's daughter and son-in-law, started the show with some amazing folk duets, perfect harmony blends and folk stories. Arlo (and many, many more family members) came out about ten minutes later and the evening kicked in to full gear. The evening was billed "The Guthrie Family Rides Again" and the purpose of the evening was for three generations of Guthries to sing and celebrate the gift of their family's music. Many songs and stories of Woody's, and to our treat, many that the man had simply written the lyrics but no music to. Songs from each of the three adult daughters, some for children and others about, and a few of Arlo's classics. Every song spoke to the beauty of family, the gift of our children and the responsibility of adults to teach future generations of love and harmony. Arlo spun yarns, some true and others mythic that helped contextualize each song. My wife and I found ourselves in tears every other song as the power of each song was driven through gorgeous singing, amazing instrumentation and the sight of sixteen Guthries keeping alive nearly a century of storytelling. I have always felt a strong connection to Woody as my grandfather and his family were Okie refugees just as he was. Woody's Dust Bowl Ballads help give me an appreciation for the complex and nuanced man my grandfather was. Arlo gave us three of his songs: "Coming Into Los Angeles", accompanied by a hysterical take on the 40th anniversary of Woodstock, "The City of New Orleans" (which had the tears flowing, it was so amazing) and "The Pickle Song" which my older son had been singing just hours earlier as we were cleaning up the play-grocery store in our family room. Arlo and kin closed with "This Land", in which, after a couple of verses, he interrupted himself with a story, only to leave out most of the song but closing with the most powerful final verse. Arlo encored with a song left incomplete by his dad titled "My Peace", in which the man's entire life in art, his family and hopefully his grandchildren's wish to all people about the importance of embracing life and the beauty amidst the messiness of life. We gave Arlo a standing ovation. Heather and I agreed; this two-and-a-half hour show was exactly what church is supposed to be like: inspirational, fulfilling and truly spiritual.
We hit the lobby with the hopes of a meet-and-greet like an attendance said could possibly happen. We met Sarah Lee who was selling cds and t shirts (a totally family run operation - the men of the group broke down the equipment after the show) but Arlo was not to be seen. Though we wanted to see Arlo, we were happy and since it was early, we decided to stroll back to the hotel and maybe have a drink at the bar. We walked back in the beautiful Spring night and as we hit the lobby, we noticed most of the bar filled with a wedding party, including the bride and groom, keeping the bar loud and celebratory with the hopes of yet another promised future. As we were ready to sidle up, my wife stopped and grabbed my attention. "There he is!" she whispered and, sitting in an easy chair in the corner of the bar, checking his e-mail on his i-phone, was the man himself. "I have to bug you", I said, as we walked up and introduced ourselves. We chatted for a few minutes and Arlo was gracious enough to host a couple of fans who were interrupting his post-show come down, and he did his best to be polite and welcoming. He was both. He signed a cd I brought and while I didn't ask for a picture (good call), we downed a whiskey feeling fulfilled and at peace that we had not only heard but thanked a man who has given his life to the art of lifting humanity above itself. I thanked him for all his music, shared the pickle song story about my son and left him. For the rest of the evening (or at least the hour or so we stayed), not a single person approached him. That left me both saddened and calmed. Shame on you, I thought to the other patrons, that you have no idea who you sit amongst, a wonderful person and gifted musician. That emotion was blocked out by the thought that it was good that no one recognized the man; that his music was bigger than he; that what we try to find in others actually exists in each of us. That made me happy, considering here was a man who played Woodstock, has sung with some of the greatest folk singers in the 20th century and continues to speak truth to power.
We hit the sheets, only to be kept up until four o'clock by the wedding party in the adjacent room but for the rest of the weekend floated above the ground from the experience we had. What a gift.

Next up: my mid-week journey to Santa Cruz and the amazing show by Truth & Salvage.