On beautiful endings

The road goes on forever

Last night we got a sitter and went out with friends to a concert. Going out like an average adult feels like a monumental achievement when you have preschoolers. Things I used to do often, like going to concerts or a restaurant that doesn't have a drive-thru, now feel like special occasions. I even curled my hair. We were going to see Robert Earl Keen at the Grizzly Rose, probably for the last time.

I've been going to Robert Earl Keen concerts at least once a year for almost two decades. If you're not familiar with his music, it's quite the experience. He's a masterful storyteller and somehow manages to create multi-faceted characters within the confines of song lyrics.

There's something about listening to live music under the glow of neon signs, sipping on a cold beer, and singing at the top of your lungs that makes time stop. It's such a magical feeling to live in the music rather than in my to-do list. Robert Earl Keen is the consummate showman.

I've flown across the country more than once to see him perform live; he's that good. His is the kind of music that feeds your soul, and even if you know every word to every song he plays, each performance is a unique experience and one best shared with dear friends.

It was perfect.

As he bounded on stage for the final curtain call and finished with the classic he co-wrote with Lyle Lovett, The Front Porch Song, I started to tear up. There's something about knowing "this is it" that catches you in the throat.

I remembered once in 2017 during the spoken interlude of The Front Porch Song, Robert Earl Keen told the audience about the writing process of that song with Lyle Lovett. They wrote it while in college. Incidentally, writing such a song would be the pinnacle of most people's entire lives - they did it while still almost teenagers.

Keen waxed on, spontaneously, about Lovett's achingly poetic lyrics. As I listened to the remainder of a song I'd heard a thousand times before, it had a whole new sheen.

We are constantly surrounded by "firsts." Focusing on them is a joyful way to look at the world. The “lasts” can be just as hopeful.

Just as I remember standing in a crushing crowd, sipping on a beer, and watching Robert Earl Keen walk onto that stage for the first time, I will also not forget him walking onto it for the last.

Appropriately, it was my Dad's birthday. He would have been 71. Almost four years ago, he died suddenly and unexpectedly of a pulmonary embolism. It was going to be a hard day, but I had a concert to look forward to, and that neon beer sign at the end of the tunnel propelled me through.

I wonder, sometimes, if artists realize what their art can mean for others.

So, I woke up with a well-earned headache. There's a reason why nights like that have migrated from a regularity to a special treat. There's nothing like sucking down another goat-milk latte to try to mitigate a beer hangover while your preschooler uses all your pots and pans to play the drums to remind you of that fact. But I wouldn't have changed a second.

Of course, amidst the cacophony of the pots and pans, Tabitha, my last remaining LaMancha standard doe decided to go into labor. Because, of course.

Blessedly, she needed no assistance and easily kidded triplets. There is nothing more I could have asked for.

Tabitha is an absolute darling. She is so sweet and kind, the perfect example of everything one would want from a dairy goat. She's also massive, easily twice the size of any of our other girls. Her udder is perfect.

She will give between 10 - 12 pounds of milk a day - for reference, a gallon weighs a little over 8 pounds. Tabitha can single-handedly feed all the kids (human and goat) on our farm.

The challenge with a goat like Tabitha is getting her to eat enough to sustain all the milk she produces. She always looks skinny, even when given free-choice access to all the food she could want. All her calories go straight to her udder.

Keeping a goat who loses condition when she's in milk is a tricky proposition. Either she has to live in a pen all alone, where there is enough grain and high protein options for her, or all my other goats will get too fat to stay healthy.

So, after this season, she gets to retire. She's earned it. One of my best girlfriends is taking her to relax on a farm with her other goats, alpacas, and horses. When not in milk, she'll be able to keep a healthier body condition. Tabitha will also get all she really wants - endless love and attention.

I know this is the last time she'll breed, and these are her last beautiful kids. Yes, we could keep breeding her every year - as a superior milker hers are our most valuable kids. But, I know that retirement is what is best for her.

As my beautiful friend and our premier goat, the thought that these are her last kids makes each one extra special.

It's apropos, then, that when I stumbled out to check her progress, Tabitha gave me the most beautiful gift - three perfect doelings. The most beautiful ending.

In the words of the unparalleled Robert Earl Keen, "The road goes on forever . . . and the party never ends."

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