Well I've been living in Los Angeles, California for nearly twenty years now. At least I think it's been that long. Maybe it's only fifteen, but I've never been too good at keeping track of time. I come from farm country in the northeast and it's quiet, peaceful and there's not a whole lot of people. It's just a whole lot different than this big town. Things move fast here and it's easy for me to get wrapped up in it. I lose myself a little bit and most of the time, I can't quite figure out why. Now I can blame it on this big city and everything in it, and I can blame it on that summer heat in the valley, or the guy that's in the Maserati trying to go eighty miles an hour down Sunset Boulevard, or the vultures in Beverly Hills.
But then one day, it all dawned on me. It's not the fast Maserati or the hundred and fifteen degrees in September or that entertainer ego thing. And I realized in this town, sometimes it's hard for me to believe in God. Now, I don't exactly know what God is, or looks like, but I know what it feels like, and I know what it wants. And you can call it him or her or them or whatever you want. I just call it God, because it makes things a little easier, and I'm not afraid of the word.

Anyway, it's not like home, where when the winter ends, it turns into spring. Spring turns into summer, and it's mid-July and you drive down Hector Logan Road and you pass through the tiny town of Burdett until you come to the top of Carpenter Road. The pavement turns to gravel and you park your silver Volvo station wagon at the top. You get out and you've got on your cut-off camo cargo shorts and your Tevas. And it's 1995. And you head down Carpenter Road headed west toward Seneca Lake. You've got your gravel pit on the right and the Argetsinger farm on your left. You walk along the edge of the farm until you get down to Ginny Argetsinger's house. She was Beren and Will Argetsinger's grandma and I'd get past the house as quick as I could. I was kinda scared of Ginny.

And you come past the first little outbuilding, they had a couple of old rusted-out packards in it. We'd hang out in there sometimes and sit in the packards. Mostly it was just to hide our weed. Head down the driveway a little bit further around the bend and past the apple orchard until you get to Beren and Will and their mom's. And maybe, maybe have band practice. But mostly, we'd probably just head back up to that orchard and sit there in those trees and watch that sun go down over the west side of Seneca Lake.
When the fall would come, we'd pick those apples and take them up to Marty Morris's house. He had an old cider press - this old thing is just two giant pieces of wood that would smash the apples together and just make what seemed to be just apple juice, but they called it cider. And we'd always grab a couple of those milk jugs full of apple cider and steal em away and hide em in the shed with the packards and the weed. You let those things sit there long enough and before too long, you've got something a little more than just regular apple cider. I'll tell you, there is nothing in this whole world like sitting in that apple orchard, drinking the cider that came from those apples, watching that sun go down over the west side of Seneca Lake.

Beren graduated from high school. I did not. He got a diploma, and I got a broken heart. I was lucky enough in this life to have what you call young love. I don't know if it was the real thing or not, but it sure felt like it at the time. But along came a taller and more handsome stranger with a motorcycle, and she was gone.

So we had a graduation party for Beren right there in the apple orchard. I was really looking forward to the party. The main reason was that I was going to get to meet their dad's friend - his name was Ruby Love. First of all, because his name was Ruby Love. And second, he knew a lot of old folk songs and I heard he was going to bring his big old Martin guitar. He was gonna sing Woody Guthrie songs and Carter Family songs. You know, at that time in that town it's not like I could just go to a record store and pick up a Carter Family album. I couldn't wait to hear these things.

We had the party and Ruby came. I brought my guitar and he brought his old Martin, and we stood there in the apple orchard after the sun went down and that moon came up. And I started things off and I closed my eyes and I sang The Tennessee Waltz.

I remember the night and the Tennessee Waltz
And now I know just how much I have lost

You know the one. And it was the first time in my young life that I'd ever sang a song and cried at the same time. Tears, they streamed down my face and pooled at my feet, and I barely eked out the words. I finished the song and I opened my eyes and looked at the moon and the moon was shining on Ruby Love and he was eight feet tall and his teeth glowed in the moonlight as he got right in my face and grinned. He grabbed hold of that big Martin guitar and he sang:

Takes a worried man
To sing a worried song
Worried now, but I won't be worried long

Yeah, where I come from, it's really easy to believe in God.

Sow em on the mountain, reap em in the valley
Sow em on the mountain, reap em in the valley
Sow em on the mountain, reap em in the valley
You've got to reap just what you sow"