My mother gives me folk punk cred.
A kinda charming and sorta maturing thought crossed my mind this morning. My mother to some degree is a part of the folk punk tradition. She wasn’t a Johnny Hobo style traveling punk, More an introverted painter and soft folk guitar player, but she was a grandmother of the never ending tradition of nomadic folk artists. A significant part of her youth was hitch hiking her way around Europe with a guitar on her back and a desire for adventure. Skinning dipping with boyfriends, hanging around acid heads in the 70s. Authenticity more punk that I have ever been. In a world of $90 plane tickets and Uber I rarely ever hitch or sleep under the stars. I play music out in the streets but I’ve only once or twice stayed in a hostel.
I’m not sure to make of this post but it felt good writing it. Here’s a Bob Dylan song, my mom’s favorite artist.