• The refreshing, muddy water of the creek.
  • Riding in Hayden’s pickup truck bed.
    • The wind drying our hair.
  • The army of plastic snowmen lawn ornaments on a neighboring farm’s lawn.
  • The diversity of folding chairs at the festival.
    • Two with hydraulic rockers.
    • Two with headrests, reclinable.
  • The band members sluggishly carrying gear to the barn.
  • It’s possible that blues scales need to be banned, at least for white people.
  • Eating Avrom Farm chicken, my only allowed chicken.
  • The father-and-sons punk band.
    • The bassist son reminding me of Steve Albini and my friend Gabe.
    • The guitarist son reminding me of young Dad.
  • Al Scorch commanding the audience in a special way, singing new, sadder, slower songs.