These are uncertain times. During upheaval, decision-making can be affected. Formerly easy choices become more difficult: for some, paralysis sets in. Of course, if the height of choice difficulty for you is deciding what over-priced, foodie establishment to eat at, you are in luck—you won’t have to contend with that dilemma today (or for the near future).

Doubts about what may happen tomorrow can lead to hearkening back to the familiar—those places where we’ve found answers or solace in the past. Insecurity causes dissonance and discomfort. Fear in turn forces us back to places of familiarity.

The internet can be a source of trusted information. It’s also a breeding ground for the dubious and even fallacious.

I’ve been a blogger since 2003. Over that period, I developed go-to sites. These were written by fellow blogging travelers I developed trust in. When lost without answers, I could go back to them by default. I also incorporated ideas and ideologies from them.

Many of these sites are now shuttered. If still online, it’s been months (or even years) since they’ve been updated with a new post. Disappointing for sure, I simply moved on. Meanwhile, I’ve stayed with it, even following the floor of my life opening-up. I’ve shared with readers from a place that at times felt like freefall. Persisting in the face of dissonance, upheaval, and even tragedy is what resilience looks like, especially if you fancy yourself a writer.

Social media and Facebook have certainly usurped blogging for many. Yet, some of these tried-and-true bloggers that I’ve read for a decade or longer are still out there.

Over the last few weeks, I’ve gone back to some of these standbys. Reading through many of these sites that have posts up since the onslaught of Covid-19 were by-and-large disappointing. A couple of these writers/bloggers seemed to be exhibiting a sense of schadenfreude—gloating in their “I told you so” hubris. In addition to the off-putting smugness of the blogger, their followers posting comments seemed somewhat unhinged or worse, totally wrong on the scope of what the Coronavirus signified.

One, John Michael Greer, seemed to counter so much of the groupthink that’s become the endemic during the announcement that we’re living through pandemic. I’m not surprised, as Greer is as thoughtful and erudite as anyone I’ve ever read. He’s also not someone steeped in the liberal elite ideology that permeates almost all our sources of news, both left and right. I’m anxious to come back to this post that touches on astrology and also serves as a sort of predictor of where we might be headed, in a fairly broad sense. His most recent post is an interesting read, and a nice break from Covid-19, although in the comments, he does address questions and theories shared by his commenters, perhaps one of the most thoughtful coterie I’ve found in comment sections.

Holding up during days of difficulty requires fortitude. There’s also an element of rationing required in terms of how much media and information consumed. No matter how careful you are in choosing sources, it’s easy to become overwhelmed. Even well-intentioned and trusted thinkers who value veracity are forced to tilt towards the obedience required to advertisers: this is central when your media choice is television (whether Fox or MSNBC), magazines, or newspapers. Don’t be fooled by NPR, either. They require sponsors that require their news to follow a prescriptive path (read, liberal elite) to be awarded the dollars necessary for keeping their lights on.

The familiar for me—well before Covid-19 became ubiquitous in our thoughts—has become playing guitar. No matter how crappy I’ve felt in 18+ months, the times that chords, lyrics, and the sound of either my acoustic or electric guitar hasn’t helped could be counted on one hand. That’s truly remarkable to me, someone who never thought of himself as a guitarist until recently.

On Sunday, I ran through a setlist of about 10 songs I can play fairly well. I was thinking about heading out the following Tuesday (which also happened to coincide with St. Patrick’s Day) to play an open mic that featured a full band. The venue was about an hour’s drive from home. Over the course of about four hours of practice time in my basement, I whittled the selections down to 5 or 6.

Then Monday came and talk of gathering sizes shrunk to no more than 10 people. Curve-flattening had killed open mics, too.

Dinner after an absolutely insane day of taking calls from fearful patients at work (our call volumes crested at four times the normal numbers) was a welcome tonic. I shared with Mary that I wasn’t going to the open mic on Tuesday. She told me she thought that was a prudent choice. Still, she knew I was disappointed. Perceptive as always, she said, “maybe you could play your songs for me.” I truly appreciated that. However, Mary is that audience member who always applauds (at least when I play) and I knew this wouldn’t be the same as playing live before a less enthusiastic audience. These are the kinds of things I’ve been pushing towards, knowing they’re essential in growing my chops as a guitarist.

Conversation that turned into brainstorming brought to considering Facebook Live as a viable alternative. Prior to tuning-in to MSNBC and Rachel Maddow (what has become familiar evening ritual), we agreed we’d announce an event we called “Tuesday Night Live from the Double Deuce,” the name of the saloon we inherited when we bought out house last July.

Then, waking up Tuesday morning, I was filled with doubts, second-guessing whether announcing this was a good idea. I said to Mary, “we could always cancel,” as cancellations have become commonplace in our post-pandemic world. Mary wasn’t having any of it. “You’ll do fine,” she said, assuaging my self-doubt.

Following Tuesday at work, we began re-ordering the saloon for the evening’s performance. I lugged my amp and accessories up from the basement. Then, I began running through what was to be the night’s setlist. Mary did a test recording on her iPhone. We argued about volume on one of the backing drum tracks. Since we’ve been together for forever as a couple, not even creative differences could derail that night’s performance.

At 6:30, I ran through a formal soundcheck. At 6:58, Mary told me, “two minutes ‘til showtime.” We were off.

“Tuesday Night Live at the Double Deuce”

I opened with a Sparklehorse cover, “Sad and Beautiful World.” That was a marvelous choice in hindsight as it’s a song I’ve played long enough and it’s not overly complex so that I could deliver it near flawlessly (for my skillset) and not have to think too much in doing it. In that regard, it’s the kind of song someone like me, new to performing as a guitar-player, can use to quell their nerves and build on.

We’d talked about not playing too long. “Keep them wanting,” or something like that was one of our overarching plans. Honestly, I figured we’d have maybe 15 to 20 people tuning in via Facebook and perhaps that number might double. Having used the platform a few times before, viewers dropped off and I assumed that by the end, maybe I’d have 10 people, tops, sticking around to the finale.

JBE setlist from St. Patty’s Day

We crested above 100 viewers with new people joining during the live broadcast. The audience chimed in with encouragement and it felt interactive, with Mary relaying information to me while I continued playing. Two songs on the electric and some between-song patter segued into me turning to my Yamaha acoustic to play my most personal song, “Walking Down the Road,” about Mark, written from the perspective of what he might want to convey from beyond this life in terms of his final walk. It’s a song I’ve been playing as long as the Sparklehorse cover and it’s another song that I’ve internalized due to the repetition of playing it over and over in practice and live (at my prior open mic appearances). Then, thinking it would be my finale, I launched into my paean to Rachel Maddow, “Rachel, Rachel.”

As the final chords of the song rang out, we were at 22 minutes of performance time. I’d delivered a set of songs, to an audience of more than 100 people who’d stayed with us and engaged via comments. I was truly humbled. Mary shouted out, “they want an encore.”

Like has happened at a handful of book signings I’d done as a writer, I thought perhaps those watching were confused. I used to joke that at a hometown Moxie book signing for my first book about the elixir at that summer’s orange-themed festival, “maybe they have me mixed-up with Stephen King,” since people stood in line for nearly two hours for me to sign their copy of Moxietown one summer. Similarly, in April 2016, people lined-up for nearly the same timeframe, snaking into the late Frank Anicetti’s store, just to have me put my imprint on my follow-up tome on Maine’s distinctly-different soft drink, Moxie: Maine in a Bottle.

Maybe on St. Patrick’s Day, 2020, in the midst of the Coronavirus and being cooped up at home caused people to think I was Keith Urban, or better, Neil Young. That’s because my song, “National Disgrace,” is Neil Young-esque and about Young’s disdain for our orange-toned menace of a president.

And an encore I gave them. “Icarus,” the Gold Connections’ cover I’ve been working on for about two months with versions that are both electric and acoustic was another number that this work-in-progress guitar slinger knew he could deliver anything at this juncture. Six minutes later, we were ready to wrap.

Thinking about Tuesday night, I wonder why Mary and I chose to do this live event. Perhaps better, why did it connect with people like it did.

I think there are a couple of takeaways and things I learned from the experience. One, it was positive. I say this because we had no agenda other than to entertain and share this with friends and people we know. Then, give the directives aimed at social distancing and flattening the curve of the virus and it’s spread, people had a hunger for something other than reading updates from their friends, or having someone tell them how dire things are at the moment.

Second, people that know Mary and I and have been supportive of us since Mark’s death, care about the two of us. Many of them have been deeply affected by his death and have remained tethered to us as his parents.

Then, playing my guitar, singing my songs, and sharing a little about my own thoughts about how this time offers us all a chance to be better and associate with our better angels was me, speaking to me about how best to deal with uncertainty in uncertain times. I think people understood that I was right where they were at that moment.

While I hope that everything miraculously resolves itself in a few short weeks. Then, I can simply get out to an open mic again. But I think that might be overly optimistic. We could always do another one of our live broadcasts from the saloon.