Miracle road

Christian bikers did not spoil Walter's sound check last night, nor did the dog poop. When you book a rock show in a folkatorium on April 1st, I guess you take your chances. The bikers took their confab elsewhere and the next door neighbor's guard dog lost all interest in my bassist-manager and his freshly odoriferous loafer. Walter, the road warrior, spritzed his sole with holy water Fantastik and proceeded with load in.

Midway through sound check entered the Hendersons and Krista. Peter, having recently stared down countless health demons, looked terrific, though his smile-at-the-ready can often fool you. Ann and Krista settled him in and beamed their own beacons around the shipyard. One by one, the listeners -- weldor, therapist, contractor, teacher, chef, working mom, Marine -- docked at Scott's Folkatorium, dipped into Ann's meatless chile and Dottie-mother-of-Scott's potato salad and plopped down to feast on music.

A successful show feels to me like some kind of miracle. With theater, suspension of disbelief is to be expected, as stage sets, costumes and extra ordinary scenarios draw you in. Music, where imagination reigns, has neither bread nor circuses to prop up the puppet regime. You rely entirely on the integrity of your songs, the quality of your musicianship and the willingness of your audience (and you) to be transported. And inspired.

Last night's show seemed all the more miraculous because my laryngitis-laced voice was still recovering from the flu. It occurs to me at times like this how fragile is the borderline dividing earth and heaven. All the careful song craft and disciplined practice, in the end, brings you to a lover's leap where anything, from bikers' alleluias to canine skank to audience malaise might land you on the rocks below, hugging your broken bones.

As we tore down the set, Doris showed me some of her filigreed poems and one by Daniel, her son, as husband Kevin looked on and spoke of his sculpting muse. An artist family, honoring my art. The road to miracle is paved, it seems, with delicate invention.