Nothing stays the same. Our lives move on until we forget where we came from. We never get to where we’re going. We begin our journeys with good intentions, and we all find ourselves on that same lost highway, dust in our faces, wind at our back.

Our ancestors kept moving, from persecution, from poverty, and out of a restless spirit. They moved across the plains of Europe, into the hills, across the ocean, always heading West. They made music, and sang about their lost homes, trying to tap into some sense of continuity and belonging.

In the Twenty -first Century we still need to sing those songs. Even if the road does lead to hell, it’s a long journey. We need to hold on to what we know deep in our souls.