by Trey Nosrac

The current political unrest has many of us nervous about the looming elections. Emotions blind everyone, and positions are entrenched. Quiet, thoughtful reasoning and discussion are in the caboose, while emotional clickbait drives the unsuspecting passengers. For those who bothered to read the previous two sentences, you are probably wondering – is this writer a friend or a foe? Is he in my tribe? Is he a REAL American?

This column is not a place for politics. Instead, I would like to reflect on two conversations and offer a song that might calm our troubled waters for a few moments.

Earlier this summer, by accident and fate, I was introduced to a fellow who is a relatively big player in harness horse racing. This man is active in many facets of the sport and has owned countless horses. To my astonishment, despite using pseudonyms for much of my scribbling, he knew my real identity. More astonishing, he began our chat by nodding towards me and saying, “John Stewart.”

John Stewart was a singer/songwriter with a small yet passionate following. I have most of his five hundred songs on cassettes, CDs, and digital files. I attended his shows each time he played within a few hundred miles of my home. Through the years, in my writing, I would look for opportunities to insert a nugget with his name or his music into various columns and stories. At some point, my new harness racing acquaintance followed the trail of crumbs and picked up the Stewart bug.

The odds of finding a kindred musical spirit on a racetrack apron must equal my owning the Hambletonian winner. Although we were at the racetrack, with trotters racing, music was our chosen conversation subject. I specifically recall my new friend mentioning a song titled Mother Country.

His mention of this song title reminded me of another conversation about 15 years ago in a small club where John Stewart performed. Between sets, Stewart put down his guitar and sat across from me. As often happens with strangers, he asked about my interests. I replied. “Harness horse racing.”

His squinty eyes widened, and he became energized. Then he said, “My father was a harness horse trainer! We lived in California and made the circuit of racetracks. I grew up on the backstretch. My father was hard on me, and the boys on the backstretch cared for me. I wrote some of my early songs using the rhythmic clopping of hooves on the racetrack for the beat. I’ll never forget those days, those horses, those people, those sounds and smells.”

Although this column is a politics-free zone, let me offer a tidbit known to Stewart fans. As a young musical man on the move, one of his early and formative gigs was as the opening musician for Robert F. Kennedy. Stewart and Buffy Ford would warm up the crowds by performing on the campaign trail across America, often at train stops. Many of his songs describe the hope and joy of those days, dreamy days that ended with an assassin’s bullet on the floor in a hotel.

Returning to our little sport, the “Lonesome Picker” died in 2008. Here is a link from the year before – he sings solo in a small club. The song in the video clip is Mother County. The people in the song are harness horsemen from his youth. His love of America is evident. Many of you will relate to the old campaigner circling the racetrack.

Peace,

Always peace,

Trey