Some weeks leave your boots dusty. Others leave your soul full. Last week did both.
This Monday found me doing something I don't do very often—sleeping.
I finally made it back home from Helena, Arkansas, after spending the week at summer camp, and I guess my body had been keeping score. I eased back into my chair to rest for a minute, and the next thing I knew, I'd slept away most of the day.
Truth is, it felt pretty good.
I'm not making excuses. I'm just plain tired.
When you spend your days pouring into young people, sharing stories, playing music, and watching those little lightbulb moments come alive, it takes something out of you. But it also gives you something back that you can't measure.
This past week was one of those gifts.
The kids made me laugh. They asked great questions. They reminded me that the blues isn't just old songs and old stories—it's something that still got a heartbeat. Seeing that spark in the next generation gives me hope that this music and the stories behind it will keep rolling down the road long after we're gone.
A heartfelt thank you to the Delta Cultural Center for making this camp possible and for continuing to invest in our young people and our musical heritage. Programs like this matter because they plant seeds that can grow for a lifetime.
And to all of you who follow along with my journey, thank you. Whether you've been reading these diary entries for years or you just found your way here, I appreciate every comment, every message, every share, and every word of encouragement. You remind me that this road isn't one I travel alone.
I've got plenty more stories and photos from Helena to share over the coming days. This week gave me more memories than I can fit into one diary entry, so we'll take our time and enjoy them together.
For now, though, I believe that nap and I still have unfinished business.
Sometimes the best thing a bluesman can do is slow down, catch his breath, and thank the Good Lord for another week worth remembering.
Until next time, keep the music playing, keep your heart open, and don't laugh too hard at an old bluesman catching up on his sleep.
Have you ever come home from a trip so full of memories—and so worn out—that your body insisted on taking the day off? I'd love to hear about it in the comments.