Mike and the Moonpies in Wittenberg, Wisconsin

It was a birthday weekend in Appleton and parts to the north. My sister turned an unnotable age, nothing with a zero at the end or even a five, but we celebrated still.
 

We had tickets to the Symphony on Saturday night, and dinner beforehand is always rushed, so she decided she wanted a Birthday Brunch at our parents’ place. She requested an egg dish that’s called “Stunning Brunch” for family historical reasons; it has cubes of bread and cheese and green chilies and is baked in a 9x12 pan. We ate in the sunroom which has lemon yellow walls. My parents’ place is open and very light, and always very orderly and welcoming and peaceful, so my mental picture of this brunch, with its yellow walls and eggs and light, was of a springlike golden burst of sunshine. It’s fitting, because I feel the same way about my sister.
 

Because we had Symphony tickets, she had to miss the performance in town of one of her favorite bands in the world, Mike and the Moonpies, who hail from Austin, Texas. A tip had made us see them on the stage in Houdini Plaza one early evening during the Mile of Music, three or four years ago, and she went out and immediately bought all their albums which have been on heavy rotation ever since, but they have not been back to town until tonight, almost her birthday, when they were playing a local bar but she couldn’t go. Like a miracle, though, a friend saw another show on Sunday afternoon at 4 pm, on her actual birthday. Mike and the Moonpies, from Austin, Texas, we’re playing in the auditorium at the high school in Wittenberg, Wisconsin, about an hour and a half’s drive away. 

Originally four of us were going to go, but one pulled out at the last minute due to studying for final exams – she’s a student at nearby Lawrence University – so in the end my sister, her friend and colleage from the PAC ticket office, and me planned to go.

We’d had a brutal few weeks of weather. Rain, which turned to three inches of ice, then snow, then historic cold that reached minus 24F degrees over two days, then warm and melt and rain again, then more ice and more snow. The last shoveling out was the last straw for my sister, who had to move the ice chunks that the plow left at the end of our driveway, with the help of several neighbors, as I was away. During that same storm, white-out conditions on the highway had caused a 131 car chain-reaction crash that left one day and many seriously injured, and all the cars totaled. It had been a few days since that snow, but another one was predicted for her birthday weekend, which caused some trepidation. We all agreed that it was not worth risking life to see this band, so if the roads were icy or blocked with drifting snow or in low visibility fog, we would stay home, and she planned an alternative peaceful day just in case. 

But, joy of joys, the snow ended early in the morning, and the roads were all dry and clear, and so the conditions were great for our drive. We saw some patches of blue sky, and the snowy fields and gentle hills to the north of town, setting off the red barns, were beautiful, like paintings or photographs in a calendar. I had to carry the mental pictures because I was too slow with the camera – by the time I got my phone out the scene had changed.

We got to Wittenberg about an hour before the show was due to start. We found the high school where it would be, and there were about three cars in the parking lot and not much movement evident, so we decided to drive back down the street and get gas for the trip back, but just as we were leaving the school parking lot, we saw a camper van towing a trailer, and just knew that must be the band.

We stopped at a very well-stocked gas station which also had a little gift shop, with pretty nice clothing, jewelry, leather purses and home decorations, painted signs with sayings on them about wine and coffee and things. We didn’t buy any gift shop items, just snacks and drinks. We also sussed out options for dinner after the show, which were pretty limited in a town that doesn’t even have a stoplight.

Back at the school, the doors were open and a few people were sitting around. There was a long lunch table set up with merchandise, and another one with a small sign advertising the three shows in the series, of which this was the first one. We showed our tickets to a girl near a money box, and she kind of shrugged and said, yeah, go in, and didn’t need to scan or collect or tear our tickets, so we retain them as souvenirs. We were able to buy raffle tickets for the high school dance team, who was having a 50/50 raffle which are usually a good deal.

While the entry into the show was very humbly just a high school cafeteria, the auditorium itself was actually pretty nice, with comfortable seats and a proper PA system aside the stage. A very kind middle-aged brown-haired man greeted us and showed us to our seats – he turned out to be the promoter who had organized the concert series. We were about half-way back. The front rows were starting to fill in. Most of the other patrons were older, white haired, clad in warm coats.

(During the first part of the show, Beth and I received messages from our Mom, to let us know that our cousin had passed away, after a long battle with ALS, but that’s a story for another entry.)

At the appointed time, the kindly promoter took the stage, thanked us all for being there, announced the next two shows (The Bellamy Brothers, and I can’t remember the second one, both in April), and then invited the dance team members up to the stage to draw the winners from the raffle. They gave away three CDs, one each from the artists in the series, and then the 50/50 pot which was just over $200. It was the cutest, but most normal and matter of fact, opening of a show that I’ve seen in years.

The band then took the stage – without the keyboardist who’d been with them in Appleton, with a new bass player since we saw them last, but same drummer, lead guitarist, and most importantly pedal steel guitarist who is my sister’s favorite. My sister will remember what they opened with, but I remember the sound – perfectly realized, unabashedly traditional country. They played for several hours, covering material from all of their albums, plus one George Strait, one Willy Nelson and one Freddy Fender song that were more familiar to the crowd. Mike’s voice sounded a little beat up from the road, but the energy and performance was great. There was silence between many of the songs, because the crowd applauded politely but not for long enough. At the end of the show, though, they stood and hollered and called the band back for a multiple-song encore. But didn’t buy much merchandise – I could walk right up to the table, where I got two CDs, a shirt and threw in a beer coozy so the manager didn’t have to make any change.

We ended up dining at the local Subway, which also contained a pizza place. We drove home just at twilight, rapturously recalling the show, hearing my sister’s friends story of her family connections to the towns we drove through, and watching the warm sunset light on the snow.

Jamie Kent and Wild Adriatic at the Appleton Beer Factory, March 3 2019

It’s been a cold week in Appleton. The past few weeks have been brutal in their various forms of winter - snow, ice, gloom, subzero temperatures. Three weeks ago, a polar vortex made the temperature drop to 24F degrees below zero for two days - days when I couldn’t stay home from work because we had an important live video conference, so my sister and I were both out in it. After that we had several big snowfalls, adding up to a record for any February. Then, we were saying today that it was just one week ago that whiteout conditions caused a 131-car accident on a stretch of highway that all of us drive all the time. It seems much longer than one week ago that it happened, and sort of cruel that today only a week later was sunny and brilliant blue, although still crazily cold and icy in patches.

It was a great day for doing comforting work with fabric with your Mom, and that’s what I did all afternoon. My Mom and Dad moved here in July, and in her old home Mom was very involved in the rug-braiding community. She has made probably more than 100 rugs of wool strips, following the techniques laid out by her teacher Norma Sturgis in her instructional book. Dad always says that Mom has one of the best senses of color in her rugs. So, convincing her to move here to be closer to her daughters meant tearing her away from all of that, and we haven’t replaced that community, but I am learning to braid, and I hope to go with her this summer to the annual braid-in in Salida, Colorado. She is taking me through the steps - choosing colors, tearing strips, making the “T”, starting to braid. Today we worked on lacing, and splicing the lacing cord, and how to add a new color. We worked for about two hours, and were both weary at the end. The wool is a bit hard on your hands. It irritated my sister’s skin, so she prefers quilting with cotton fabric. It can be hard keeping the sides of each strip folded in just so. I felt like I was wrestling with the fabric for every loop. But braiding is one of the most forgiving crafts. Bumps and twists will work themselves out as you walk on the rug, and the process doesn’t change the materials so you could in principle take apart and redo anything without any loss but time (and with the gain of practice).

We sat in Mom’s sun room, with the blinds tipped a little because the sun was so bright off the snow piles outside. She was working on a round rug with light blue, grey, and a grey-purplish plaid, a gift for a cousin. Mine is dark forest green, tan, and green-and-cream plaid. Neither of us exactly has a plan for what colors we’ll use as we go along. I asked Mom how you decide, thinking she would quote some principle like that you always start with light and then do a dark band, but she answered with a question, “How much of that green plaid do you have left?” Not that much. That’s how you decide, or at least one way.

I had to leave before dinner to go to a show at a bar and occasional music venue downtown. My sister and her friend had seen it and got tickets, and I got one for me and one for my significant other. The show was early, since it’s Sunday night, and featured two bands who became familiar to our town through the Mile of Music Festival, a summer celebration of original Americana music that will be in its sixth year this summer. Appleton in a music town, with a Conservatory at one end of the main street and a big performing arts center and bars featuring live music at the other.  So we know how to pay attention to a musical performance and how to listen, and we’re not shy about whooping and dancing and singing along. So the bands that come to play the Mile notice this about us and express their appreciation for us from the stage, and many have starting returning between festivals to play single gigs.

Tonight was one of those, with two acts - Jamie Kent and Wild Adriatic. We got to the venue not long before it started. We got very good parking spots in the next block, and I was rugged up in my big calf-length down coat and lots of wool, but it was still fiercely cold walking from the car to the bar. There was the slightest little breeze but it was enough to drop the four degrees down to a chill I could feel through the sleeve of my coat. 

The bar was busy when we got there, packed but not uncomfortable. Jamie went on first, a solo acoustic set and then joined by a second guitarist. He sings catchy and sincere songs that are right in the Americana genre of the Mile of Music. The crowd gave a warm reaction, and it was so nice to be out among other people. It felt normal, and fun, after weeks of extreme and treacherous weather, when even the simplest things like walking out your own door felt dangerous (wind chill, icy steps, crazy big icicles overhead).

The rest of the group I was with hadn’t seen Wild Adriatic before. The crowd filled in a bit when they took the stage. They play in the nexus of rock, blues-rock and soul, and they’re not a band whose records I would put on at home to listen to, personally, but they are a very good live act. Very loud, but strong, not blarey. Strong beats, and a good drummer, but so relaxed. They are all completely confident on stage, and seem not to take themselves too seriously. We stayed for about five songs, including one they said was written about Appleton, which then morphed into a medley of a number of different soul hits, and then back, with a rhythmic riff played on guitar and bass in unison that got the crowd jumping up and down, and when it stopped we let out a roar, a sound you only hear from a crowd when band and crowd have joined together.

It was a little bit of summer in our winter. A gig you would walk to in sandles during the fest in August, which a big room full of us struggled through the cold to get to tonight. I feel grateful to the performers to have come play for us. We’ve had a few difficult weeks, and really needed this show.