A friend has given me a 1956 Hammond chord organ. It was in an old house he bought that was filled with furniture, tools, and musical instruments. One of the instruments was the organ.

Turns out this same organ was once owned by the previous owner of my Dunn Center house. Neighbors Alice and Loman remember its eerie sounds well.

Somehow the dusty beast has found its way back, perhaps searching for its former master.

But there's a new organ grinder in town.

Drove ancient heat-spewing tractor today for three hours during the hottest part of day (107 F). Should've drunk more H2O.

Yesterday's luau at the I Don't Know Bar in South Heart was interesting. There was a touch of Girls Gone Wild goin' on and lots of tequila and cigarette smoke. People weren't sure what to make of my music, but by the 47th song I'd officially won most of 'em over.

And may I say that tonight's moon looks exactly like a slice of tangerine floating in syrup?

The night is humid like Santiago, Guatemala, 1991, the year the 13 martyrs were shot in my backyard.

Like Nashville, 1998, when I surveyed storm water for Davidson County, when I fried fish, when the cicadas hatched, when I asked Nina to marry me.

Like Liberia (1968), where Mom lived with Peace Corps friends, where torrential rains fell each hot afternoon, where women covered their legs and not their breasts.

Like India, with her ecstatic saints and poor children. Like Viet Nam and Cuba. Croatia and Morocco.

Come firefly! Sing frog! Prowl panther!

The night is young and eternal, and God sleeps in the wet grass.

Dad and I are finding our work rhythm and we're getting a lot done. We've been insulating and drywalling. We've found time to recreate, too.

Two nights ago he, Grandpa, and I rode the horses to see the recently erected oil well east of the Diamond C Ranch. I rode the pinto, Shorty. I wish I'd had a camera, 'cause words cannot describe it: the green, sloping hills; the rugged limestone buttes; the setting sun; the air fragrant with sage and mint. At one point, three whitetails with big racks bolted from around a bend and bounded out of sight.

Dad rode Partner and led Grass Dancer on a halter. When he saw an eagle launch off a boulder, Dad headed up the mountain for a closer look. There was a precarious moment when Grass Dancer's halter rope got looped under Partner's tail on a narrow, rocky ledge. Fortunately, Partner stayed calm until Dad could free the rope.

Grandpa rides and looks great for an 88-year-old horseman. His shirt was tiger lily orange.

While working to get the old Dodge pickup started today, Dad ignited. He was pouring gas out of a plastic bottle into the carburetor when a flame jumped up and lit the bottle on fire. Intent on trying to put out the fire without throwing the bottle on the ground and starting a prairie fire, he didn't notice that flames had jumped onto the back of his clothes. When he felt and smelled the flames burning his backside, he did throw the bottle down, which did start the grass on fire. Soon, though, both fires were subdued. Dad came out singed but unharmed.

RELAY FOR LIFE FUNDRAISER:

Pig Roast/Luau
Saturday, July 21st, 2007
I Don’t Know Bar
South Heart, ND

Supper begins at 5 p.m.: Pig, beans/wieners, potato salad, cucumber/tomato salad, and fruit/watermelon.

Cost is $10 per plate with all proceeds going to the American Cancer Society. Come check out their balloon fundraiser and more!

Featuring entertainment by Sandman the Rappin' Cowboy. Music starts at 9 p.m.

A friend of mine almost died in a car accident yesterday and another friend did die of breast cancer. I'm feeling sad. I may not blog for awhile.

Last year had 6/6/06. Next year will have 8/8/08. This year we have 7/7/07. Three sevens means you hit the jackpot.

God rested on the seventh day. In Islamic tradition there are seven heavens. In Buddhism, Buddha walked seven steps at his birth. The Hindus have seven great saints. Seven Lucky Gods exist in Japanese mythology.

"Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, 'Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Up to seven times?'

Jesus answered, 'I tell you, not seven times, but seventy times seven.'"

There are seven dwarves, seven chakras, seven seas, seven Wonders of the Ancient World, and seven virtues that correspond with seven deadly sins. The United States declared Independence in the seventh month of 1776. There are seven openings into the human head. Most mammals' necks have seven bones.

My post office box is #7.

For even more trivia visit the homepage for Seven Magazine. You'll learn among other things that the common ladybug has seven spots; the opposite faces of a dice add up to seven; and that wool is the gift traditionally associated with a seventh wedding anniversary.

Time for my doctor-recommended seven hours of sleep.

Looking for a unique experience? How about helping to restore a Russian immigrant homestead in western ND?

My friend Dale Bentley, who is the Director of Preservation North Dakota, is having a volunteer week (July 14-21) open to the public, to begin the preservation effort. There will be a variety of projects to fit all age levels and skill sets. Stop in and lend a hand!

Visit the Preservation North Dakota website for details.

Calvin Johnson, the fellow pictured with phone above, is a long-time friend from my Olympia days. He's legendary in the Indie rock world and an inspiring person to know. He's probably one of my top ten favorite musician/songwriters of all time.

Luke Graner is one of my new favorite musicians. I have yet to see him play in person, but I've listened to a lot of songs on his website. I read an article about him in the Bismarck Tribune and tracked him down last month and asked him to join the bill. He not only agreed but also found us a Bismarck show, made the poster, and did a lot of promotion.

These promise to be tremendous shows and I hope some of you can make one or both!

Today I tore my porch apart. The floorboards were rotten. Then came the Dunn Center 4th of July parade and potluck. And then came playing Pinochle and 31 at Alice Goetz's guest house. And then came the rodeo, which I missed. And then came Lindsay and watching fireworks in Killdeer. And then came three bars. Uno, dos, tres. And then came midnight. And then came midnight. And then came midnight.

If decades or centuries down the line, when (and if) a monumental U.S. revolution occurs and a new country gets born out of the ashes of "old" America, I wonder what it will look like. On what date will these new Founding Fathers & Mothers choose to celebrate their new day of independence? And what will they name their new country? And will the citizens remember us fondly? Or will they judge us like we judge Great Britain?

And will there be fireworks? Rodeos? Baseball games?

Life is a trip.

I just received an email from my brother Ray, who lives in Zimbabwe. He says he's missing home, especially with the 4th of July coming up. He sent along a 15-second dance video that he choreographed last week. Click here to view.

It works best on Mozilla (Explorer cuts off the image). Be sure to turn the volume up!

The firecrackers are grating on my nerves today. Time to head out to the country.

Here's another family reunion picture:

Grandpa rode Dude into the campfire circle.

Last weekend my friends Dani & Lacy entered a women's fishing tournament at Lake Sakakawea.

They tied for 1st in the biggest Walleye competition. Their fish was 4.6 lbs.

Oy. Lots of things to report, but the days are too nice and long to spend time at a computer. The family reunion is over. Great times there. Now I'm going swimming with Lindsay at Lake Sakakawea.

I have become another piece of history at Dunn County Historical Museum. My days as Curator are over as of today. I'm mostly happy, but feel a twinge of sadness, too. It was a good job.

In other news, there is a Sand family reunion going on this week on Killdeer Mountain. I'll write more about it later, but for now here's a picture of Hannah Joy getting baptized, earlier today, in the spring.

Today I played a fun outdoor show at the Rhubarb Fest in Washburn, ND. The performance took place at Fort Mandan (the fort that served as the winter headquarters for Lewis & Clark's Corps of Discovery during the winter of 1804-05.) My friend V also performed, interspersing a few of her songs during my set. V is a bona fide cowgirl from Wyoming. She sings some of the most authentic "Western" music I've ever heard.

My pal Alex from Winona, MN, surprised me by showing up towards the end of the show with his Grandma Alma and Aunt Ardie. According to Alex, Alma has been a Sandfan since 1999. It was sweet to finally meet her.

The folks at Fort Mandan are a class act. They fed me lunch, supplied a sound system, paid me well, and rallied a nice crowd. The only negative of the day is that I ate too many rhubarb desserts and acquired a mild stomach ache.

Every day when I walk to work, I see a rabbit and a mourning dove communing amorously beneath a solitary juniper tree. Interspecies love is not uncommon out here. My neighbor had a cow who birthed a clamb (calf-lamb). The neighbor's ram purportedly rammed down the gate and finessed his way into a Hereford heifer's heart.

This same neighbor claims she caught a fish once that was half pike and half catfish.

In the 1940s my grandparents had a female cat that lived in one of their sheds. During a cold spell in December of 1946, a rangy jackrabbit seduced this feline. For an unusual winter, the mammals shared a woodshed and, come spring of '47, an offspring. The grandparents called it a "hop cat."

Happy summer solstice. The longest day of the year . . .

Bittersweet, indeed.

When I lived in Nashville in the late 90's I had some brushes with country music royalty. At one honky tonk I witnessed Hank Williams III get drunk and rowdy to a packed house. Midway through his set, a middle-aged woman squeezed in next to me. At some point she let me know that the inebriated singer was her son. I asked if she still got along with his dad, Bocephus. She cussed his name and let me know what a skunk he'd been as dad to Hank III.

A nicer Nashville father-son story, though, was when I was dating an Australian singer/songwriter named Sherry Rich. One night, at some downtown bar, we ran into her friend Bobby Bare Jr., son of legendary Bobby Bare. Bare Jr. spoke warmly of his father. Here's an endearing duet they sang in 1973.

Upcoming shows:

June 23 - Washburn, ND @ Rhubarb Festival. 2 p.m. Free.

July 9 - Minot, ND @ 62 Doors Gallery (11B S. Main) w/ Calvin Johnson & Luke Graner. 7 p.m. $3-$5.

July 10 - Bismarck, ND @ Stringbean Coffee House (on Divide & Grandview) w/ Calvin Johnson & Luke Graner. 6 p.m. $3.

July 10 - Somewhere in western North Dakota.

On this Father's Day evening I had supper with my folks and grandfolks up at the Mountain. I took Dad candy bars and Gramps some raspberries. After supper Grandpa entertained us with harmonica tunes. Grandma told me that she's heard through the relatives that I sometimes perform "dirty" songs. I had a hard time tryin' to explain that one, let me tell ya, but I think she appreciated my explanation.

I'm lovin' these long nights. I hiked to the beaver dams after supper. A white-tail doe snorted fiercely at me. I saw a baby bunny and a beady-eyed beaver, too.

Yesterday morning I swam in Lake Sakakawea with Lindsay. In the afternoon she joined me in Manning for a covered-pit outdoor barbecue feast. I played guitar and sang and got two suppers in trade, plus a succulent hunk of roast wrapped in denim. We had the roast for supper at Grandpa and Grandma's tonight, along with other good things. For dessert Grandma served vanilla ice cream covered in blueberry-rhubarb syrup.

The tidal wave of life has swamped Sand Land, USA. I'm pretty much under water at the moment. I gave my two-week notice of resignation at the Museum. I'm considering driving for Goodall Trucking out of Killdeer. My friendly old license plates "HIY 918" were stolen. I replaced them today with new ones--they assigned me with the unfriendly "HTE 092" (which sounds to me like a Nazi skinhead radio station). The grass outside my house is almost three feet high! My neighbors are disgusted with me. Allergy season has started. My Fantasy Baseball team is slumping. Brother Raymond cussed me out for writing about him in my public journal.

But besides all that, I feel pretty darn good. I've got a date with Lindsay Danger tomorrow evening for one thing. There might be some fishing involved.

Last night I had supper at Lindsay's parents' ranch. They served elk, walleye, and catfish, along with other finger-lickin' fixins and dessert. As I was driving home, Shawn Goodall called to invite me to float with him and a couple others down the Little Missouri River. I met them at 6:00 this morning and we put in at the Long X Bridge north of Grassy Butte. We paddled 52 miles (10 hours) to the Lost Bridge, where we pulled out. Along the way we saw 1 owl, 2 elk, 2 buzzards, 3 deer, 6 beavers, 11 pelicans, and a host of other birds (mergansers, blue heron, Canadian geese, hawks, songbirds). The buttes and badlands were greener than Al Gore. The Little Missouri was muddier than McKinley Morganfield.

This is my brother Raymond. He became a minister a couple years ago and recently moved to Zimbabwe. In his day he was a rowdy rodeo athlete, but now he lives a quiet life of service and meditation. He's 40 and has never had a girlfriend. Mom thinks he's gay. I asked him about it once, and he said, "I'm only gay below the waist. My torso and head belong to God." Ray has a strange sense of humor.

Grandpa Sand turned 88 today, and Grandma Edna Sand turned 87 last month.

Grandma Viola Herak turned 87 two weeks ago.

Happy birthdays to all three of you!

In the middle of the road of my life
I awoke in a dark wood
Where the true way was wholly lost.
-Dante

Astronomy 101: Last night's full moon was the second one of the month. This only happens once every 2 1/2 years.