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In the eye of the beholder

Don’t be too quick to judge …

That’s what the animals will tell you.

Stay on to listen to the interview after the song

Just because a forest has the wrong types of trees, or isn’t quite big enough to fit a hiking trail, don’t let that lead you into thinking it doesn’t have any worth. Every piece of open space counts. Just ask the mice, the squirrels and the rabbits and such. The birds, too. Those little patches of woods at the outskirts of town. We tend to ignore them until the bulldozers move in, and then all of a sudden we realize: “Wow, I’m gonna miss those trees.” Every tree, every plant and every animal is special in its own way. This song by Bobby Angel reminds us of that.

Oh, and about Firelight Radio — It’s hosted by a guitar. If you think that’s a bit unusual, think about it: You can’t have a Nature Folk Movement (NFM) without a guitar by a campfire. That’s what Firelight Radio is all about.

🔥Campfire Trivia
What's Buck's biggest topic that he goes back to time and time again?

Wetland sharks

Jaws of the Glades

A farewell Song to Laurie Humphrey

Words and music by Bobby Angel

February 26, 2021

She used to work in the Everglades and always knew how to play the game whenever they asked and wanted to know she told them the Everglades were the only show but then one time she finally got fed up when she scooped the water up in cup to find it filled with all sorts of nasty stuff

That’s when she ran off and escaped to the Big Cypress Swamp a place that has everything you could ever want and forever more and ever since on the west side of a hill they call the L28 fence and now she feels free whenever a visitor has an inquiry she says it’s easy to see it’s shadier under the trees

If you like concrete and gates then the Everglades is your place 0r bureaucratic malaise again I recommend the Everglades or sawgrass that bites like a shark I point you in the direction of Everglades Park

Inside a dome that’s the place I call home water up to my knees and no entrance fees gators a grumbling and storm clouds a thundering and mosquitoes singing in my ears I promise really there’s nothing to fear

The Everglades was just a phase I really don’t get the whole craze I’d rather be the cypress maze away from the east coast smokey haze to catch the twilights last shadowy rays and fall to my knees to give them prays and then stare up into the pitch black night just me and the twinkling pinpricks of light

Its where you end not where you start that floods the love into your heart it’s where you end not where you start which is why the Big Cypress will always beat on in my heart

Escaping defeat

In the pandemic state of modern times,

Work gatherings are difficult to find.

That didn’t stop Bobby Angel from penning a song even if he inadvertently missed the party. Thank you Laurie for you contributions over the years, And most of all defecting to the Big Cypress! And also to Rita for tracking me down and encouraging me to write a song. Sometimes Bobby Angel needs prodding, or as is the case in these strange times just a reminder that someone is leaving when everyone is telecommuting from home. More about this song: I wrote it almost a year ago one the eve of us thinking everything was about to back to normal. So much for normal, or whatever hybrid of normal takes shape whenever and if ever we emerge from the post Covid-19 now Omicron coccoon.

As always, truly and forever,

Old school angel

Believe it or not …

I sang my first song in 1999.

Playing to a packed audience at The Pavilion

It would take another 15 years to record my first song. The reason? For one, smart phones didn’t become ubiquitous until sometime around 2010. Another reason might be that my songs were never planned events. Sometimes it would be a day before a farewell party and I didn’t have a song. Or I had a song that was half cooked and still being very unsure if I would be ready for show time. But I learned my lesson quickly: People preferred any song to no song at all. And I was pretty much a persona non-grata if I showed up empty handed without a song to play. The question still needs to be asked: How many songs did I sing in the great “blacked out” period between 1999 and 2014. If I had to guess — and just counting farewell songs — I would say a good two dozen, maybe more. Many of them I wrote down. Just as many I forgot the chords. But maybe that’s the most incredible thing. One song called The Ballad of the Florida Panther I only sang once, and really even then when I sang it I was just trying to follow the chicken scratch page of lyrics I’d scribbled together in the day before Krista left. The year was 2005. How I managed to reconstruct the song (and the chords) fifteen years later is anybody’s guess other than I’m 100 percent positive I remembered the correct chords. I’m not saying I’m a great artist, but twenty years after singing my first song and barely being able to play more than a few chords I have a pretty good webpage. Next steps: Live performance. Ready or not world, Bobby Angel is ready, willing and able to tour. But not until I get done my third album, yet to be named.

🔥Campfire Trivia
What's Buck's biggest topic that he goes back to time and time again?

Upcoming gig

Bobby Angel isn’t saying …

That he’s as big as the Beatles.

Bobby Angel talks “upcoming gig”

Nor will his upcoming performance rival the Beatles American debut at Wembley Stadium, even if Wembley Stadium is in London. The truth of the matter, the Beatles broke up only months after I was born, therefore — and sadly — the only thing I know about them is from history books. The incredible thing about the Beatles is they were only together nine years, although most of it in the limelight. Compare that to Bobby Angel who’s been going at it for almost twenty years and has yet to find a smash hit or popular appeal. The reason: It might have something to do with my failure to master a fourth chord. Whatever the case, I make my long awaited debut at FGCU on February 12th. Hope to see you there.

Gunpowder and reservoir

Pretty Boy and the Gunpowder

Words and Music by Bobby Angel

January 2, 2022

Your gunpowder didn’t blow And so went on your way Past the trail where the train once ran Beside a bridge that’s washed away Weren’t you the next big thing As guaranteed as anything And now look at you today Ruins overrun

Such a pretty boy you were Born in Jerusalem Spinning water at your wheel Into rifles for the coming war Outfitting old Henry’s fort Farther down the Locust Point Where cannons kept the ships at bay And sent them in retreat

High above the eagles soared As bulldozers built the wall For pretty boy to fill its banks To divert it all to city streets An edict of the ruling crown And so you laid your rifle down Surrender your powder To the dreams of gasoline

Over time you silted in And so your dreams slipped away A blessing now looking back How so little things ever changed Farther up he won it all Only somehow to lose Pretty Boy only flows these days To highways of concrete

Gunpowder long since relapsed To a cascade of small rapids Other than logs holding back Waters where beavers swim at night Protected as a county park You can still go there today And listen to a bluegrass play Or walk the covered bridge

Life is good on the old rail trail Long after they all moved away It’s waters never slowed On their steady fall into the bay Pretty boy doesn’t have much to say He just keeps it all inside From a flooded Paper Mill To the Mason Dixon Line

🔥Campfire Trivia
What's Buck's biggest topic that he goes back to time and time again?
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