I’m guessing most of you who follow me probably feel like I do right now: truly grieved by what’s going on these days and wondering what you can do to see yourself and those you love through.
I strongly believe community is an answer.
I have always found community in music. The first time I felt it was listening to music (probably the Beatles) with someone else (probably my cousin Brad) who GOT IT—the excitement of what was coming out of the speakers.
I wanted MORE OF IT.
More of the sounds, of course.
But sharing the music with others also kicked my voracious music jones into high gear. “You mean we can read and write and even talk about how awesome the music is?”
Picking up guitar made the addiction worse. I could make my own music by myself.
But it was an entirely different animal making music with others.
That’s what I seek.
Community
That’s because we thrive in community. It is essential to the human experience.1 And I celebrate the work and efforts of those working to build community wherever that may be.
One of the earliest bandmates2 in my professional world is Eric Gray. We have maintained a long friendship over the years and miles.
Eric was the development director at the History Center in Orlando, the museum I helped open in 2000. We bonded instantly as young fathers and Florida Gator fans.3
He remains as solid a cat I’ve ever encountered. The lessons I learned from him decades ago about community and nonprofits still resonate. I’ve passed them on to countless colleagues over the years.
Conversation from the Crossroads live
February 6 at 6pm
Barley & Vine
downtown Orlando
Eric and I are going to meet for beers and I’d love for y’all to join us.
I don’t do the endorsement game at all, but my friend is running for office in Central Florida, a place that means a lot to me. It’s where I went to college (and the pros).4 It will always be home.
I personally know Eric as a difference maker, a change agent, and as a community builder.
I’ve waited for him to run for office for a long time and I would like the community I’ve gathered here at the Crossroads to meet someone genuinely committed to public service at a particularly fraught time in American life.
There will be no pitch, no fundraising.
I do support Eric. I have financially supported him because I believe in people like Eric.
Because I believe in causes.
I do.
And I believe public institutions with effective leadership can help us through the mess we have found ourselves in.
My friend is running for office.
And you are my friend because you’re hanging here with me at the Crossroads of Southern music, history, and culture.
And I want to see some of y’all I haven’t seen in forever. Particularly my longtime Central Florida/Orlando bandmates with whom I made lots of good trouble over the years.
For those local to Orlando, here are details.
February 6, 6pm
Barley & Vine Biergarten
2406 E Washington St
Orlando, FL 32803
Please come say hi if you’re nearby.
I’d love to catch up.
Special thanks to Jason Earle for helping me put this together.
It’s also essential to the study of the humanities and history, my life’s work.
A term I stole from Monkee Mike Nesmith’s excellent book Infinite Tuesday: An Autobiographical Riff.
Eric was drum major for the Gator band in 1996, the year the Gators won their first national title. I was at nearly every home game that year. I cannot put into words how cathartic the 1996 National Championship was for me, having suffered through 0-10-1 in 1979 and a beatdown in 1995.
Met my wife, got married, started and finished grad school, bought a house, began my museum career, had children.
