Cannery Row @ McCann's Food & Brew October 10 2008

(l to r) Gary Dockendorf, Chris Laumb, Mike Sharp, Dean Severson, and Carol Anderson

Last night, we spent a lovely evening at McCann's Food & Brew in St. Cloud. They are known for their craft brews, carefully created by none other than my very talented brother-in-law, Chris. He started his brewing career as a hobby, with another brother-in-law, Mark, and things took off from there. He was the brewmaster for O'Hara's Pub (same location-33rd & 3rd) for many years, and when they abruptly closed, he went on to roast coffee beans for Dunn brothers for a stint (another passion). When McCann's took over and remodeled, he was back on board, creating many flavorful brews, and feeling lucky to be employed in a career he loves.

Other talents of my brother-in-law include his voice and guitar playing skills. He is a self taught musician with a wide variety of tastes. He has been with the group Cannery Row for a number of years. They are a five member group, playing mainly Americana, Folk-Rock, and Western Swing. They play many local venues such as coffee shops, benefits, farmer's markets, local festivals, art crawls, etc. They played last night at McCann's, the reason for our rare evening out. I went for the music, my husband for the music AND brews. They are playing today at the Hopfest at Brau Brothers Brewing in the tiny town of Lucan, MN. They will be playing with Gentry Bronson in November as a benefit for the Central Minnesota Sexual Assault Center.

I love listening to the folksy songs, some well known, others lesser known, even obscure. Some of the songs are written by the band, some are the work of other singers and lyricists. The songs bring me back to a time where life seemed more simple. We worked hard, we ate mostly home cooked foods and fresh garden produce, we spent time talking, singing, and laughing with family, friends, and neighbors. We seemed united to make our world, or at least our little corner of it, a better place for everyone. We fought for the rights of the little guys...the family farmer, the blue collar worker, the poor, the children, all the disenfranchised, really. Now...we bail out corporate America as we struggle to put food on the table and gas in our cars.

I want to go back...and for a little spell last night, I did.

Below are the lyrics to one of the songs sung last night, which seems to be the root to some of what is happening in our country today, which Farside of Fifty blogged about in her "Hard Times" piece yesterday.

Thirty Years Of Farming (Lyrics by Fred Eaglesmith)

There's a little white note on the gate by the road

That a man put up yesterday

And when we saw it,

we all ran out

Just to see what it had to say.

And when we read it,

our eyes filled with tears

And they fell to the cold, hard clay

Something about a mortgage,

something about foreclosure

Something about failing to pay.

Chorus:Oh, and on the post by the general store

They put up a little sign

An auction sale day after tomorrow

At the end of Lincoln Line

Thirty years of farming,

thirty years of heartache

Thirty years of day to day

Oh, my daddy stopped talking the day the farm was auctioned

There was nothing left to say.

Oh, my mama's tears fell freely down

As she walked amongst the flowers in the yard

And every number the auctioneer called

Was like a blow to her precious heart

And every number the auctioneer called

Meant another thing was sold that day

'Til everything was auctioned,

and we stood there watching

As they loaded it and drove it away.

(Chorus)

At the day's first dawning,

we awoke this morning

There was nothing for us to do

Nothing in the granary,

no hay in the mow

No cattle, no tractor, no tools.

So we loaded up the car,

took the clothes that we wore

And a few things we managed to save.

Mama read from the Book,

we took one last look

And then we drove away.

(Chorus)

Oh, my daddy stopped talking the day the farm was auctioned

There was nothing left to say.