It’s a smoky Thursday. There’s a large picture window in my living room. Today, I can barely make out Moscow mountain in the distance (that’s Moscow, Idaho). It’s about thirty miles from here in Pullman, WA to there. During forest fire season — which now can honestly be almost anytime of the year — the haziness of the mountain is generally a good gauge for how healthy the air is. On a clear day, it’s a green reminder of the epic beauty of nearby Idaho, where the forest stretches from that mountain for hundreds of miles to the East. But on a day like today when I can’t see the mountain much at all, it’s a grim reminder of climate catastrophe. I’ll avoid going outside, of course.
Recently, those on the east coast and midwest where I’m from have been acquainted with the smoke. While that fact brings me no pleasure, at the very least, at this point most Americans understand how unpleasant it is. For a few years, when I traveled east I felt I had to explain the misery to those who had never experienced it. The smoke seems to not just be in the air but in my head and bones, I would say. It can make me depressed if I don’t take steps to avoid it. Well, now you know. But today I am fine.
Fortunately for me, I live in a big ugly 90’s construction, practically hermetically sealed suburban home with many comforts. I have a room dedicated to writing and recording music, a great coffee machine and a big beautiful living room covered with art.
When it’s not smoky, the summers out here on the Palouse are glorious. Mei and I and Linus have built a great life out here. We make art and music, go camping, ride bikes, buy flowers and cheese and vegetables at the local farmers market. Both college towns of Pullman and Moscow seem to shrink during the summers. You run into people you know everywhere; professors, staff, and brave students who’ve chosen to stay here for the summer, they have all shaken off any remaining doldrums of the semesters, looking tanned and in brighter clothing. There’s a rhythm to life.
As part of that rhythm, at least once a year I brush up on my guitar playing and singing, write some songs, and prepare for a Cincinnati, Ohio concert with my band July For Kings. This summer we will perform outdoors at OnPoint Music Festival, a free all-ages event organized by the City of Cincinnati. We will headline the evening of Friday, August 7th. If you’re in Cincinnati, please come!
We’ve played just a handful of shows these last few years (since a big 20th anniversary show rekindled our passion), and each time it seems a little more natural. It won’t be perfect. We are not quite the well-oiled machine we were when we played hundreds of shows a year, but we are more relaxed and more grateful. We will make mistakes, but we will have fun. Fred Durst claimed he did it all for the Nookie (probably untrue). But why do we do it? For the music and for the hang. It’s just fun to hang out. Come hang.
It’s notoriously difficult to predict how the air will be from day to day. My weather app cannot even predict the rain. I’ve largely stopped trying. Instead I simply notice the mountain when I can. It’ll come back.
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