Scene from 2024

Really cool that I have a blog. I guess I had forgotten, or life gets in the way. From Maine to Santa Barbara Cali was the move after my last blog entry about seven years ago. Are there two more disparate places on earth ?

 I then pursued my love of gainful employment and nature by walking tens of miles of power lines each month, listing how and when to prune these. I know I know its a banjo blog. But that figures into my geographical/sustenance and sustainability mission. Here at Jack O'Shea, we treat all our blood cells like citizens. They get water, rest, food when its available, and other entertainments like walks and swims too. Stay tuned for more superior content!

I played at Chico's Saturday Farmer's Market. It was no less than a magical experience. In a few weeks I was introduced to jamming and potluck with friendly people in town, I had a gig on the radio one day (another group was also scheduled after me - they never woke up-so I took their slot too) with Dan Carter, who has a fascinating show, if he ever gets back to town. I mention it because it was one of those off the cuff performances that really hit. I had family and friends all over the world listen in and if I were more tech-savvy, I could send you a recording of it. Its somewhere locked in this computer.

That's KZFR, the Zephyr, the bitchen radio station here. I also got in the Chico State newspaper back when an analog news source was used. Remember those halcyon preCovid days? I feel I was ready and the people of Chico were ready for aid and comfort of the musical stranger. In a little under a year, walking power lines with an orange vest and computer around my neck lost a bit of luster.  Did I mention the heat in Chico? Summers it gets to 112 regularly. Stays hot at night ot near 90... Not a good place to sweat all day.

It was a superior profession with little pay in those days. I quit two weeks before the Paradise Fire in 2018 what is called the Camp FIre, that forced a successful evacuation of thousands of people who were either just waking up or ( like a good friend) had just dropped the kids at school. At around 7:30 I saw the smoke from our redoubt in Oroville. I kept working for a few more weeks. Long after I quit, the IBEW finally recognized line walkers ( consulting urban foresters-ha!) as members with benefits. Before that it was friends without benefits. Anyhow they started making serious money then. 

I had fallen from a tree in Maine and my arborist career was in force quit mode. I thought. But it was really in force quit climb mode. Which is different. I began making more money and enjoying life more  by teaching for two solid and wonderful organizations I will not mention just yet.Not here at any rate. If they each want to make a contribution to the Jack O'Shea sustainability fund, that's different. I taught climbing, pruning, decision making in trees. If I were a tech savvy dude I could show you links and things. I don't need that. You don't need that. This is a musical blog.

 So I met my love at the Chico Saturday Farmer's Market. She and another woman asked about lessons, etc. Susannah was my student for a while. I suppose you could say she still is, but that would take a bit of a stretch. She plays banjo well, but her forte is her authentic and individual singing and playing outstanding rhthym guitar. She and I have been together since a little before the Camp Fire. Luckily for me.

Sometimes my brother and sister call me"f-ing Jack." with real venom, though they love me dearly. Like when I say I'm moving to Chico to take this nutty job and less than a year later I am living with an incredible singer and guitar player in her home. I just want to say for those of you who have stuck with this post this long: At some point I was making more money than I could smoke, and Susannah and I flew to Geoff Hohwald's banjo warehouse. There, having the forethought to bring credit cards to tide us over until we got checks printed, we bought a total of three superior banjos.

We rented a truck and took the least expensive and lightest banjo as our luggage extra. We drove across the south, we were heading way out west, we got caught in a thundershower that was sort of humid (suns so hot I froze myself) and on the first day I crowed " I'm leaving Alabama-going to Louisianna, with Susannah, with a banjo on my knee." She sort of winced, which I take as encouragement for stories like this. The banjo was technically in the back seat, but still.

Hanging out.