I spent Halloween on a train to Tucson, AZ from Union Station, Los Angeles. Out of some sort of spiritual deference to Steve Earle, I took the Texas Eagle. It was not right on time (it never is), and two guys fresh outta jail met up with a white trash princess from 29 Palms who swore she could out party any guy who'd been in the can. Ten hours of my life I'll never get back, I'd say.

The quality clientele on the Amtrak made me nostalgiac for the Greyhound bus.

Keith Pawlak met my train in Tucson, and we set about discussing the program that was to happen Monday night -- his student ensemble playing first the music of Les Baxter (with Keith conducting) and then Robert Drasnin (with ob conducting and Keith playing vibraphone). I was playing guitar in the second half as well as saying a few words to put the music in a context with Les's. Jeff Chenault's boots were on the ground, so he gave the Les Baxter talk.

The student ensemble had things pretty well dialed in. Mind you, there's a lot about exotica that requires a sort of inner jukebox that college kids are only working up to, and there are a lot of tricks you have to pull to get the music just so, and these tricks only come with muscle memory. That said, they pulled the train admirably.

I'm looking forward to hearing the speech I gave. It got laughs. And Bob conducted really well. The ensemble got some grooves on, and the singer was excellent and a half.

I enjoy Tucson. Me, Rob, Lacey, the Typewriter Kid, and a few of us are a good crew to hang out and eat and speak about music, so I got dear pals there. Keith and I have become fellow soldiers in the ongoing battle of presenting this music, so these days I feel like he's such an ally. And Jose-Luis -- thanks for the beautiful guitar.


We left for Charleston, WV on Tuesday morning. Roert Drasnin was being inducted on Thursday into the West Virginia Music Hall of Fame, and I was giving the induction speech. Ah to be getting out of Mccain Country on Election Day. We flew via Houston. It was only afternoon when we touched down, so there was no real news. Bob and I were both tense. The thought of another Republican at the helm was not happy. Houston was a shockingly apolitical stop. Then again, the state that gave us Bush 43 might not be in a hurry to state its case just now. Camilla Aiken texted me "Go Obama", and I drank coffee and hoped. I called my dad to see if any returns were in, but he didn't know yet.

We boarded a Continental puddlejumper from Houston to Charlie West (aka Charleston, WestbyGodVirginia) and sat for what seemed like an eternity. Part of me wanted to sob, just in case the worst happened. It was a rough couple of hours.

I turned on my phone as we arrived late in the evening, and everything happened so fast. I called Camilla, and she said, "If Brooklyn means anything, he's gotta win. He's gotta."

I called my dad and got my mom. She said she was pretty sure. My sister called next. She was pretty sure too. The Hall of Fame had sent out a terrific fella named Bill -- a sort of ruralized Ted Gerike -- to pick us up at the airport. He offered to take us to the American Legion Hall. The Drasnin's just wanted to go to the hotel and crash, so I told Bill to take them to check in and I'd join him and we'd go to the American Legion, where Michael Lipton -- who runs the Hall of Fame with Clare Finly -- was with a group of friends watching the whole thing on a big screen TV.

I got there just as McCain was giving his concession speech. I was in a room full of strangers who were my fellow soldiers in putting the Long National Nightmare behind us. Everyone was close personal friends at that moment.

Michael Drasnin (Bob's son) showed up at the American Legion midway through McCain's speech and joined in the very considerable revelry. Michael [Lipton] filled me in on Steve Ferguson's condition, and we kicked back like a couple of old buddies in a room full of my oldest friends whom I'd never met.

When we finally broke away from the TV, Bill drove Michael and I back to the hotel, and I stayed up all night watching MSNBC.