This past Friday night my dear wife, Carrie, and I were back in my hometown watching a high school football game.  The Brownstown Central Braves played host to the North Harrison Cougars.  The score was 7 to 6 in favor of the Cougars at halftime.  North lost the game 35 to 9.  I was not happy with the result.  I was rooting vehemently for the Cougars.  That is quite the juxtaposition from where I was two years ago.  That night I was standing on the Braves sideline taking pictures of my Brownstown friends.  I was in the press box at halftime talking on the Braves radio broadcast and having a nice time with old friends.  I turned the page on that night with a post on these very pages.  You won’t find it here now.  I removed it.  I took it off the day I was hired by North Harrison as a school counselor.  North Harrison became the home school again.  I was not going to let my Brownstown allegiance hang around.  After all, when I came back to North I became a Cougar again.

I have that luxury.  I was able to choose.  You see, my Dad worked for both of these schools.  He was the head football coach at both of these schools.  I attended both of these schools.  I played on the field at Blevins Stadium as a fledgling Brownstown pee-wee football player and then a few years later I kicked the first of my many points on that same field as a North Harrison Cougar.  I have friends on both coaching staffs.  I just know the guys from Brownstown a little better, as I have known them much longer.

The Braves in pre-game.

The Cougars in pre-game.

Coach Mark Williamson in a pensive moment.  What he has done for Cougar football is extraordinary.  Thanks, Coach.  And thanks to Mr. Hatton, our principal, for making football welcome at NH like no other principal ever did before.

The field at Brownstown was awful.  They admitted to it.  And for someone from Brownstown to admit to something bad…well, it must have been awful.  I hope they beat Seymour this week.  And I hope we meet them again in the sectional later in the year….on OUR turf!

On Saturday I got my hair cut.  When I got home, I watched college football.  That was my Saturday.  I watched college football on television until I was tired.  I will leave it at that.  Well, I won’t.  You get tired when your noon team(Marshall)  loses, then your 3:30 team (Ole Miss) loses, and then your 8:00 team (Oklahoma) loses…and you wake up at 2 AM to see that at least UCLA was beating BYU 17 to 7.  The Bruins won 17 to 14.

On Sunday we made beautiful music.  Well, Rod Wurtele made beautiful music.  Let me just say God Bless Jeff Carpenter for introducing me to Rod Wurtele.  Rod plays with the Louisville, KY based “Wulfe Borthers”.  Let me just say that Rod is the man.

I have been blessed to be in on many recording sessions.  At each of them we were working with material I had a hand in creating.  Save one, every song I ever recorded was one I wrote.  Still, I have this innate sense that I had little to do with what just happened…when I hear something like I heard Sunday afternoon as Rod layered tracks that were recorded…seemingly for him to add his magic to.  I mean that.  I am not being glib.

One session, many years ago, was a time when my friend and music virtuoso, the late Tim Krekel, was laying some guitar work down.  What he did that day made me feel like I had never felt before.  He played a guitar solo that was over the top.  I was younger then.  I loved it.  As the years have gone on, I have appreciated it more.  Well, I never thought I would ever feel that way about a session again.  I thought I had caught lightning in a bottle and had fortunately recorded it.  That is what happened.  I never thought I would find lightning again.

On Sunday afternoon, Rod Wurtele brought the thunder and the lightning and the hail and rain and the sunshine back out and a beautiful sunset to go with it.  I was just proud to be there.

How could he not?

The control board at Al Fresco’s Recording Studio.

Count me fortunate to have a project going with recording master Jeff Carpenter.

Jeff and I taking it all in.

I sat there amazed and thankful as I listened to Rod’s work.

I think he liked it too.

Know that I will treasure this photo, Thank you, my dear Carrie.

If I never walked into the studio again, as there is more planned work on this collection, I could handle it.  How it will ever be better than this day, I can’t imagine.  But I am willing to give it a shot.

Thank you Jefferson.  Thank you Rod.  God Bless you both.

That is truly speaking the rights!

Danny Johnson