I had arrived in Albany, New York about three o'clock on Saturday afternoon. Since I had a couple hours to kill before sound check, I decided to take a walk. With no particular destination in mind I was surprised to find myself, after a short amble,  in front of St. Patrick's Catholic Church. Desiring to go in and light a candle for the pope I was delighted to find that 4PM mass was soon to take place so I took a pew in the back of the church and began to meditate.  It had been a difficult few days - life stuff -and my troubled mind quickly melted into the stillness of this holy place.

I was there a few minutes when a man with a high pitched  voice roused me from prayer saying, "You can't sit here!" Since the huge church had only twenty or thirty people in its two hundred long empty pews  I was confused. The pew had no reserved seating indication so I asked, after the statement was repeated, "Why not?". "This is the usher's pew" said the balding middle aged man who did not choose to identify himself. My  sleep deprived, road burned brain instantly sensed that caution was necessary as I was talking to an usher. With cunning and guile I masked my slight irritation  at being rousted over a territorial dispute. I pointed the pew in front of me. "Can I pray here?" I asked in a volume calculated to be slightly louder than that necessary to span the 30 suddenly tension filled inches that separated me from the man's white belt and combustible neck tie.  "You need to sit somewhere else" said the man. "You  can't sit here! This is for ushers ONLY!" "Can I pray here?" I repeated. Anywhere but THIS pew" he said. "This is for ushers ONLY!" He was obviously becoming agitated, and no further fun  could have been wrung from the absurdity of the moment so I stood, gathered my old felt hat and gloves, bowed to him and moved forward exactly one pew. I knelt down and began to pray again.

A few minutes passed and I heard another voice. This one deeper and more menacing than the last. "Hey Tex!" said the voice. Not being from Texas or dressed like a cowboy, I remember hoping dearly that I wasn't being addressed. In any event I chose to ignore the salutation, although its proximity and tone suggested that I was indeed its target. "Hey Tex!" repeated the voice, loud enough to be heard by others in the church, I opened my eyes and looked up to find an older Italian looking man, his arms folded imperiously above an expansive middle. "Tex?" I asked trying to stifle a smile.  "You can't sit here!" said the man. "My name isn't Tex" I said. "It doesn't matter what your name is, you can't sit here!" said the man. "Why not?" I asked becoming annoyed. "Because this pew is for ushers only" said the man in a voice that was clearly intended to convey a "We know how to handle trouble makers  like you around here!" sort of impression. "Wait a minute, I thought THAT pew was for ushers only" I said gesturing dramatically at my former seat.  How many of these trees had they peed on? "So's this one!" said the man. "You have to move." "But that guy told me I could sit here"  I said pointing toward the first man who was standing nearby in obvious dismay.  "You guys should get your story straight." By now a dozen heads were turning around to see what all the commotion was about. "Look pal, you have to move somewhere else. Don't give us a hard time!" said the bigger man. "You guys ought to put up signs so strangers can figure out where it's okay to pray around here!" I said in an exasperated voice. I stood, picked up my stuff again and walked to an empty pew in the middle of the church. "Does anyone have a problem if I sit here?" I asked in a loud voice.  Disapproving parishioners glared at me from all directions as the Italian looking man dismissed me with a disgusted waive of his hand and turned to admonish his colleague, apparently explaining yet again the complicate but ever so crucial "Two Pew Rule". I knelt down and struggled unsuccessfully to reclaim a sense of the serenity I had come into St. Patrick's to find.

At one point I looked back my shoulder to find that the balding usher had taken a seat directly behind the deep voiced one, each man commanding sole possession of an otherwise unoccupied back bench.

Eventually the mass began. We offered a prayer for the soul of John Paul and sang a hymn about triumphing over the grave. I got lost as I often do in the deeply mystical ritual of the mass and didn't give another thought to the pew police until I saw them begin to go from person to person taking up a collection. I quickly took a piece of paper and pen from my pocket and scribbled out the following note which I deposited in the collection basket:

                                                                       I.O.U. :
                              Nothing for the unwelcoming attitude and discourtesy
                              you showed a stranger in your midst.     Peace, Tex

I know what your thinking...  I could have handled this one a little better. Maybe you're right. But the thing is... There's a lot wrong with the church. Much of it of it we have no control over. But some of it we do! Someone once asked the Dali Lama what his religion was. "Kindness" he answered.  Wouldn't it be nice if we each could respond the same way? 

Other the unfortunate side effects of my slight impulse toward ecclesiastical anarchy, it was a truly wonderful weekend. The shows in Brookline, Albany and Oxford were amazing. The audiences gave as much to us as we to them.  Saturday night was a special thrill for me as I got to perform with folk music legend Dick Kniss.  Dick was John Denver's bass player. An immensely talented  musician and modest person, Dick is also, when prompted, a great story teller and he held many of us in rapt attention with his tales of life on the road with folks like Peter, Paul and Mary. Dick backed me up on a rousing version of the great Phil Ochs anti-war anthem "I Ain't Marching Anymore".  It will be an experience I will always treasure. I  also debuted my new song "Put Your Freedom Where Your Mouth Is" in this concert/ radio-internet simulcast. The song was greeted warmly and brought audience members to their feet.  I think Phil would have been proud.

My thanks to Aztec Two-Step, Greg Greenway, Kim and Reggie Harris, Magpie, David Roth and especially Sonny Ochs for the great music and warm friendship they shared with me.  We'll meet again at the Guthrie center in May. I really look forward to it!