Hóla Fellow Traveler, Our tour bus refuses to go into reverse. The forward gears are functional, but the possibility of our going backwards has been mechanically eliminated by our trusty steel steed. Now, at the last few venues we’ll be visiting as we wrap up this tour, we have to be very mindful so that we don’t get stuck in a cul-de-sac or a dead-end alley. We’ve only a few days left of a tour that started Labor Day and has taken us coast to coast, north to south, from Anaheim to Boston, from Minneapolis to New Braunfels, TX. As I look at the map, it is now true that every mile we travel shortens the distance between us and home. And it seems that our vehicle intends to keep it that way. All along the way, been blessed with ecstatic crowds, fair weather and safe travels. And now, as the leaves across the land are yellowing and the hay is being harvested, we are once again making our pilgrimage to Rocky Point for one last bask in the sun’s warmth before it begins it’s summer vacation in the Southern Hemisphere. And, evidently, the ghost in our machine is not taking any chances. Yes then, beloved bus, carry us to México!
While so much about our world today seems unstable, economies, ideologies, even the climate, I am very much looking forward to standing before and amongst you, fellow peacemakers, south of our busy-buzzing border, where we can celebrate life through rock and roll, together again, seaside, under the fireworks and moonshine. México is slow to change, time is not money, and she is always a gracious hostess. The exchange rates in sunshine, siestas and cervezas remain unchanged and, as always, very generous. With so much of our outside world in flux, I relish those moments when we peacemakers stand and sing together what is ever inside and unchanging: the Joy of Life, itself. Come then, visit us in Mexico, where a bad hat is a good thing, where a smile bridges the language gap, where siesta is considered productive, and timepieces have been known to revolve counterclockwise. Sí, amigas y amigos, trade your crow’s feet for laugh lines, Mexico beckons we come together and make ourselves at home.
As we bid a bittersweet farewell to another U.S. tour, we thank all of you who welcome and support us along the way. Thanks for being there, whether in Times Square or at an old bowling alley, whether there were 50 or 5000 concertgoers, weekend or weeknight, you all never fail to fill every hall with the highest spirits, the most positive vibrations, and the best medicine in rock and roll! Indeed, no matter how many miles away from Arizona we are, you always make us feel at home.
Ukuleles are easier to keep inside the bus than guitars. They take up very little space and have a charming native laughter in their voice. It’s difficult to walk past one without at least giving it a strum or two. We have a pair on-board, and as you may have seen from some of our videos, we’ve been playing them quite a bit. Accompanying this letter is a short video of P.H. and me strumming a Beatles song (Two of Us) in the back lounge. “We’re on our way home,” rings the chorus. It seems no matter where we go, so long as we’re together, we are at home. And though, to our directionally-fixated tour bus, it may appear as if we’re returning to our beloved desert, in my heart, I’ve felt at home the whole tour.
From somewhere on an American highway October, 2008.