In December 1997, Brenda and I had recently moved into a little white stucco cottage not far from High Rocks Park on Smithtown Road in Pipersville, Pennsylvania. Gregg had sort of moved in with us, too, floating between eras. He stayed in Kristina's room when she wasn't with us, his boxes and CDs in the basement. We were all in the kitchen with its tile floor and red counters when Connie called and told us the news. We had all just been in the Poconos for Folk Alliance and then a gig at Shannon Lounge in Hoboken, our last gig with Don.
10 years, and Don's son Perry is now 15 and singing like a rock star, from what I hear. 10 years, and so there's going to be an album of Don's songs, sung by those of us he left behind. Graham Parker, The Bongos, Dar Williams, Marshall Crenshaw, other coolsters and hipsters. And Camp Hoboken, of course. Connie called a few weeks ago. Howsabout singing "Mr. Woods" she sez. Howsabout indeed. I haven't sung a note since 2000. Why not why not. So in the studio we went, Thanksgiving weekend...that's Gregg, Connie, and Carol with Rave down below.
Boy, did it feel good. Gregg and Con grabbed the first verse, me and Con grabbed the second, Linda and Carol with their harmonies all over everything.