A Way to Be – Karen’s Place

There was a place, captured in thought, where time would pause, you were there to witness it. There were times you were transported, perhaps finding yourself among the deep rolling hills of old Virginia. A short drive down a gravel road was all it took to get away from the noise and confusion. Standing in the backyard, looking out at the fields with contented cows, taking in the aesthetics of a dilapidated shed at the end of a large barn, letting the sunset wash over me. None of this was a dream, it happened. Just standing there, I knew this was a way to be. Everything so inviting and fresh and wonderful! That was just the beginning. Then, I met the women who lived at this place and the real magic began.

I met her through one of my musical partners, Walter. He and I were looking to play some new music after taking an absence from our old endeavors. He mentioned this woman who lived on a farm, played guitar, was a spitfire of a gal, and would I like to meet her. With an introduction like that, I was on board. We drove over to Karen’s place on a Friday night and that’s where good times happened and where strangers became friends.

As it’s coming back to me, I recall Walt being excited for me to meet Karen, thought there might be some music we three could make. In that regard, I’ve always felt like a tagalong with my instrument of choice being the harmonica. Like to play more as a background harp player, take a few breaks and mainly color the song.

The great soloist harmonica players are long gone from this earth and I doubt we’ll see the likes of these great men any time soon. As for me, much rather support a guitar player and a song than make a yokel out of my limited self.

But I digress. Walt and I drove down a gravel road a bit and pulled in next to an old Volkswagen Van, up on blocks and wearin’ history. The faded colors bore adventures of the past, displaying divine rusted glory, majestic in repose. Then and there, time began to waver and we knew we were in the right place.

That night, Walt and I played some songs we were familiar with and Karen took it in. Pretty sure we had a good audition, she didn’t throw us out. Still, with the music, we had some problems. Walt’s a complicated man to play music with. Isn’t your normal, everyday guitar-strumming, happy guy. I’ll have to write more about Walt in another story. There is just so much there to unpack. Suffice to say, Walt is a dear friend and his friendship with Karen is what started all the magic.

Karen lived outside of town, just far enough away from the noise where you could hear yourself think. The place she had was a modest block house, but inside and outside there was character…character that had you thinking this was exactly where you needed to be. The vegetables were ripe when it was time and the lay of the land welcomed you, embraced you.

She always took pride in keeping her yard in order. It was fastidiously tidy and everything where it needed to be. Daily chores took a lot of effort, made easier by a partner in crime, her beautiful daughter Jen. Jen kicked butt at getting things done. Whether Karen had to coax her or bless her out wasn’t my business. I just saw a team of two strong, independent women making life work. Jen was no slouch that I remember. If she wasn’t doing chores or engaging in other exotic ideas, she certainly was good at planning them.

Did I mention cows? Yes, there were cows. Not just ordinary cows either. These bovine babies were loved and pampered by the ladies. Taken out, put back, fed and taken care of, midwifery duties, washed and brushed, talked to, sang to, and always handled with unconditional devotion.

There was one cow who held a special place in everyone’s heart. Rosie was wise and good lookin’. She was the leader alright, making sure her girls behaved. Rosie did her own thing and was damn good about it, kinda the same way I’d describe Karen. In all, seemed to be Karen, Jen, and Rosie who were the conduits for this happy and peaceful place. Good energy flows through people and cows.

We talked of music, of life. Mainly, we talked of nothing but what was happening right then and there. Everyone just fell right in feeling relaxed with each other. The laughing kept up and we had so much fun, we decided to do it again the following week. This was our shelter from the storm and we each protected that shelter, made it better. We leaned on each other like Peter Noone leaned on that lamp post.

During the time we hung out, we reimagined the big smile, that happy grin that comes across when you’ve finished what you were saying, having explained it perfectly and completely, knowing that you nailed the nuance, with everyone looking right at you, realizing just what you’re feeling. When you stop breathing for a minute, you understand just how fine, how sublime this moment is, was and shall be. Well, then, that big shit-eatin’ grin grows out from the corners till the whole face changes shape, takes on a whole new meaning. Many laughs are quick to follow. Lots of smiles over at Karen’s place. We all fell in love with our closeness of purpose, our camaraderie, our revolution of spirit.

We did play some music, mostly originals that Walt and I knew. Trouble was, what we could come up with were heavy duty, serious songs. In light of what we were after, big words, long verses and pained imagery weren’t going to work. The music was turning out to be a bit of a brick wall.

As it happened, our little music sessions fizzled out. Karen did end up playing for us her original composition, The Ballad of Lorena Bobbitt. Somewhere around, I might have the lyrics, but then again, this isn’t my song to sing. Unfortunately, don’t think there was a recording of her singing this one.

Anyway, Karen was enjoying our company. She loved a good laugh, music and friendship went hand in hand, and with that, we set our sights on higher goals. She told us of a dream, where folks from near and far would come by, enjoy an afternoon of food and sunshine, music and friendship. From Karen’s dream, we invented the Concert for the Cows.

So began over a decade of year-round planning, organizing, t-shirt making, lists and ideas to make the Concert for the Cows a staple music event and an annual giving back to the cows kinda thing. We knew of friends and family who played music and settled on a full moon fall event that would maximize the magic.

In all, I think there were an even dozen and every one was its own amazing affair. During the year, we would sit around and plan out what we wanted to make better for the next one.

Truth be told, the committee meetings were just as much fun as the end result. There were far-out plans that ended up in the embers on account of being too wild or just too complicated to pull off. Still, there were other crazy ideas that got half-baked attention and we wrote them down.

Like the ceremonial lighting of the torches…that one was one of those complicated ones that needed a script and choreography. As it turns out, it ended up being a lukewarm ceremony thrown together at the last minute. It was still a blast.

The sing-a-long for the musical acts was another idea, where each act would be required to do a song that the folks out on the lawn could sing along with. That one was a fun idea that could’ve worked too. Can’t recall anyone doing the sing-a-long.

There was one mainstay that pretty much took place every year. Karen’s brother Patrick would come on and do a big welcome. He was good at building up the excitement, then belting out to the other end of the fields, ‘Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the nth annual Concert for the Cows!’ After a few obligatory announcements, he would glide right into a Little Feat number on his acoustic. Willin was always there. He sure could light up a crowd. Behind the scenes he was a powerhouse setting up the sound system and would walk around talking to folks, making sure they were havin’ a good time…and also where the porta potty was.

Another central component was in taking care of our guests. We provided any information, navigation, or security to follow with plenty of signs throughout the venue. There were also basic rules to follow, such as using the porta potty instead of killing the grass.

As wild as we were with some of our ideas at planning, during the concerts we had most everything covered, from grilling and everyone bringing a dish or some wonderful pies and just making sure everyone was enjoying themselves.

The pivotal character in all of this was Karen. She lit the fuse, seemed to have a direct line with Lady Karma. Rosie and the girls spoke up too, informing Karen that the ladies approved of the hootenanny.

As the party got close each year, Karen and Jen did most of the behind the scenes work that got the canopies, non-perishables, and sundry items off the shelf and out of the basement positioned into place and ready to go. If they weren’t doing it themselves, they were able to pull in help where it was needed.

In the end, I suppose we can take comfort in the fact that everyone had a good time every year. All the planning, script writing, and preparations end up being thrown into the stirring pot and when it’s poured out onto the hallowed grounds, whatever happens happens.

Now, when Karen reads this, as she still is, my friends, very much alive and with us in this realm…when she reads this, if she doesn’t beat me up for writing about her, she will likely get one of those big, shit-eatin’ grins, laugh and say, ‘Whatever, Wally, sounds good to me!’ Just like those long ago Friday nights, everything sounded good and friendships were fine and dandy over at Karen’s Place!

Wasn’t hard to transport myself there, for Karen’s Place became a way to be. Strong friendships defy space and time, bring us closer to enlightenment, and help lighten the burden along this road. The time we walked that road together was when the road got better.

A whole host of characters near and far, weird and other worldly, strangers and close relations, all came to Karen’s Place and learned about that shit-eatin’ grin and unconditional love…from each other and from Rosie and the Girls. Long live the Concert for the Cows! For certain, a committee of friendship and a sharing of love, most undoubtedly, a way to be. Karen, Jen, and Rosie opened their hearts, their home. As for me, I believe I was transported.