Captain’s Log, Stardate 2022.2.7 Homeward bound. Slowly. Made it to Alamosa. More music. Three-fifths of the Red River Songwriters (Susan Gibson, Walt Wilkins, Kelly Mickwee) played Preservation Hall. It was a perfect coda to the weekend of music. Our host, Don Richmond of the Rifters joined in. I was cold and tired and in need of sleep, but the music warmed me, and I slept well last night.

On the trip into Alamosa yesterday, we stopped by the Great San Dunes National Park and Preserve. I’ve been to the beach and shore all my life, lived in the Mojave desert, I have never seen sand piled this high. It was a great brown mountain of sand blown in by the wind from around the San Luis valley, Slow and steady work. We walked out to them, but I retreated back to the car, a victim of the cold and the light snow blowing in from the neighboring mountain. Maybe I’ll return in slightly warmer weather and trek to the top. Maybe.

The experience, following our weekend of manmade music in Red River was a nice reminder that for all our effort eventually the works of man will be drowned in the sea, swallowed by the earth, or buried by the sand. Humbling, I believe, is the word I seek. Humbling. Still, is it nice to have people making music in an effort to lighten the mood, show us the beauty of life, and help make sense of it all. Very nice, indeed.

John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver’s Tale