George Rebane

Say what you will, but them big city folk just don’t know what it is to drive a few minutes, have a good dinner with your sweetie, and then set your bag chairs in front of an impressive little band under the trees and listen to some mighty fine toe tappin’ tunes.  Jo Ann and I did just that late this afternoon as we drove up to the Five Mile House on Hwy 20 in our pick-up (natch, how would we look driving something else?).

This afternoon the Five Mile House featured a reunion of the Foothill Flyers made up of Paul Emery, his longtime pal Ray Mann down from Oregon, and Bob Woods on lead guitar.  Ray Mann is a man of concurrent talents – able to sing, and play both percussion and base while wearing the same birthday suit.  Bob Woods sings and can pull so many beautiful notes from his guitar so fast that it hurts your fingers just to listen to him.

And then there’s Paul with his saloon singer voice, well worn and comfortable as an old shoe, that perfectly renders his songs of life’s foibles and fickle love.  You’d never know that in real life he’s the News Director of our local KVMR-FM.  Or does Paul really live when he entertains us, hugging his big rhythm guitar and peeling off some earthy philosophy in four-four time?

RR readers will also recognize Paul on these pages as the ever civil and gentlemanly voice from the left, patiently explaining why a little bit of socialism here, and little more there, will fix what ails the country.  You have to watch him like a hawk, or pretty soon we’ll all be learning how to describe our aches and pains in Danish to a nationalized health care system patterned after the one so popular on the Jutland Peninsula.

This summer we’ll be going back to the Five Mile House with neighbors on weekend evenings, and also to other venues around here where Paul and friends decide to unlimber their git-fiddles and do some wailing.  Given what’s going on in the flats, this is a very good place to live.  Don’t tell anyone.