Meeting folks

I met these folks from the television show Pitbulls And Parolees a while back. Good people doing good things.

Eva Holbrook

My interview with the amazing Eva Holbrook.

How old were you when you stared singing and playing mandolin?

I was 10 when I started playing Mandolin, and 16 when I started singing. 

Which artists inspired you when you were starting out, and still inspires you today?

Chris Thile was a big inspiration, my dad used to buy his music books and lesson dvds to cheer me along each birthday. I really enjoyed those. Imogen Heap and Enya were my singing heroes. I’ve always had a soft voice and they made that seem like a magic power. 

If it were possible and you could cover any song with the original artist singing along with you, what would it be?

Going to California with Robert Plant, Jimmy Page, and John Paul Jones. 

Could you tell the reader about the band SHEL you are a part of with your sisters?

The sisterhood itself was founded in 1993 when our youngest sister Liza was born. The band was founded in 2001. It’s a joy to be a part of both. 

I love the song by SHEL "Lost At Sea." Could you tell us about filming the video and your time in Belfast?

Belfast felt like coming home. Filming at the Dunluce Castle was a dream, though we almost got stranded by the tide coming in, which lead to me climbing a cliff wall barefoot in a large torn up wedding gown. 

What have you been working on lately and what would you like the reader to check out?  

We’re hard at work on the next SHEL album which is very exciting, you can check out our Instagram to hear how it’s coming along. We’ve just finished filming a music video for our upcoming single in Vrindavan India to help raise awareness for the plight of widows in that area. I’m dabbling in a bit of traditional folk and Irish music as I prepare to launch a solo project called Lady Moon. SHEL’s album should be out sometime this summer, and Lady Moon will debut in 2020. 

Joan Jett's Guitar

Willie Nelson's Guitar

Maggie

I ran into Maggie on 43rd Street today.

We were both headed down the same

hot endless sidewalk that seems to be everywhere

in Gainesville this time of year.

White cotton clouds drifted above

as the sun cooked everything below.

“Hey Jason,” She said with a smile. “Long time no see.”

“For sure,” I replied.

I watched her smile fade and her eyes grow a little more serious.

“I’m sorry about Ellis. I know you two were close.”

Ellis Amburn’s smiling face raced through my mind. “Yeah, I’ll miss him.”

“His stories of the times he spent with Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg,

Susan Sontag, Anais Nin, Edie Sedgwick,

and so many more were incredible to hear.”

“I bet,” Maggie said.

“Most of all I’ll miss his friendship.”

“I know you will.”

We began to walk.

She glanced at my journal.

It was cradled in my left hand.

With each step it swung like a pendulum by my side.

“What have you been working on recently?” she said.

“I’m trying to put something together about the past.”

Her brow lifted. “Your past?”

“Like a poem or something?” her eyes now widened.

I sighed. “Yeah something like that.”

Maggie smiled. “I’ve always liked the way you see the world.”

“Through the eyes of a poet I guess?” I said.

“Jason you’re more than a poet. I’ve never liked the title poet for you anyways.

You’re more in the thick of it.

You give us the scraped knees and blackened eyes of the world.”

I chuckled a little. “So true my friend.”

Maggie stopped and turned toward me. “Remember Bob?”

“Irish Bob?” I said. “How could I forget?”

“What was wrong with that guy?” Maggie laughed.

“What was right with him? Is the better question,” I said.

“Remember the stories of Bob shooting rats

with his pistol behind the pub downtown?” Maggie said.

“I remember. I’ve heard the stories of Irish Bob

and seen the stories in real time,” I said.

“Being a Seal in Vietnam kinda made Bob a little off.

But hey, a little off isn’t all bad.”

“Remember that time the two brothers and you

got their jeep stuck on the train tracks?”

“Yeah Maggie Girl, I remember. It was freezing that night.

We slept by the tracks till morning. It was miserable.

I woke up and walked to

a friend’s house to get help to push us off

before the 8 am train came through.”

Maggie glanced my way. “Yeah, that would’ve been bad.”

“Remember that late seventy’s Vega

With a 350 motor stuffed inside?” she said.

“I remember that beast. At 110 mph the car felt like

it was floating. It had no seatbelts but that

didn’t matter much at those speeds.”

We walked a bit more. The humidity turned the air into a blanket of moist hell.

Cicadas called loudly all around us like an insect orchestra begging for rain.  

Maggie pulled out her phone and checked the temperature, “97 degrees so far.”

Putting her phone away she asked, “Remember when you were grazed by a bullet?”

“I do. It went right across my left hip. A little trickle of blood stained my shirt.”

Maggie slid a cigarette from her pack.

She flamed its end.

“Jason, you remember the Gainesville Mall?

That was the first place I saw an escalator.

I would always jump onto the first step and off the last.

I was sure that thing would suck me under.”

“That’s funny. I thought the same thing.”

Maggie’s voice climbed in volume as she reminisced some more.

“It seemed every time we went to the mall

there were rumors that Tom Petty

had been seen walking around the same hallways that day.”

I laughed, “Yeah, I remember.”

“Remember all the good times at The Jonesville Ramp?

I can’t believe it was in your back yard.”

“Believe it, Maggie Girl. I rode with the best back then.

They were real pioneers in the world of skateboarding.

Mike Frazier, Sam and Donny Myhre, Monty Nolder, Billy Rohan,

Buck Smith, Chris Baucom, and many more,” I said thinking of all the folks I’ve

skated with over the last thirty something years.”

“Jason, wasn’t a movie filmed there that had Tony Hawk in it?”

“Yes, it was. Mike Frazier’s part in Powell Peralta Eight

was filmed at my home on the Jonesville Ramp.

Tony Hawk also has a part later in the film.”

We approached Archer Road.

Maggie pulled hard on her smoke.

Its end glowed bright even in the sunlight of midday.

She exhaled, “Remember the Hang On Sloopy guy?”

“I do. Bobby Peterson. He played with The McCoys.”

“That song was their big hit in the 1960s,” I said.

She punched out her cigarette then placed its butt

in her back pocket.

She then turned toward

me wearing a half smile, “I hate litter.”

“Me too, Maggie girl.”

We walked a few more blocks. Maggie was quiet for a bit.

Then spoke as we were almost at the intersection, “Remember Harry Crews?”

“Yes, my friend. I’ll never forget that day!”

We came to the end of the sidewalk. 

“This is my stop,” I said.

“I’ve got to pick up my truck from the mechanic.”

“Yeah, I’ve got to get back to work.” She smiled.

“Take care of yourself, Maggie.”

“You do the same.”

She turned and walked off into the blazing afternoon.