Lake City isn’t a big town. You’re looking at 12,000 folks. Give or take. It’s one of those old Florida towns.
It’s hard to find Old Florida anymore. You can’t find it in Orlando—too many mouse-ear hats. It’s hard to find in Tallahassee—too many congressmen. You can’t find it in Miami—too much incoming fire.
But you can find it in Lake City.
I’m a native Floridian. I spent my feckless youth near the Alabama line, on the Choctawhatchee Bay. We were poor. I was raised on rusty well-water and homemade tatar sauce. We served cheese grits and oysters at Christmas.
Yesterday, I arrived in Lake City early to perform my one-man spasm at the Levy Performing Arts Center.
At soundcheck, I was accompanied by community musicians and fellow Floridians. There were fiddles, clarinets, upright basses, ukuleles, guitars, and banjos. They play rural music. Porch music.
The group is led by Skip Johns, a lifelong resident of Lake City. Skip is not young. His white hair is tied back in a ponytail, he has lines on his face. He is one of the many unfortunate souls whose lot in life is to play the banjo.
He plays his instrument upside down because that’s the way he taught himself when he was 11 years old.
“I saw my first calf-skin banjo when I’s a kid,” he says. “Fella that owned it was an old man, and he played a tune. Then he handed it to me and he said, ‘You wanna try this thing?’
“‘No, sir,’ I said. ‘I wanna borrow it.’”
Skip went home and taught himself to play left-handed. He is one of the few players in the world to play upside down. Which is exactly how he played the banjo when he appeared on the Grand Ole Opry in ‘79.
“Never forget when my band stepped foot on the Opry stage,” he says. “I was standing there, with my upside-down banjo, a country boy from Lake City, on the radio. Nobody thought I could do it. Don’t never let’em tell you what you can’t do.”
Lake City has a pretty good newspaper, too. The “Lake City Reporter” was among the first newspapers to run my columns, back in the early days of my career. Back when I had no idea what I was doing as a writer.
Actually, I still have no idea what I’m doing. I was a kid from Podunk, USA. I had no high-school education. No training. No clue. In fact, it took me 10 years to realize that I have no talent for writing. I should have given up, but by then I was already syndicated.
And well, I suppose I have places like Columbia County to thank for that. I have small-town Florida to thank. I have guys like Skip to thank.
And I have you to thank. Whoever you are.
Don’t never let’em tell you what you can’t do.
And what a GREAT night it was in Lake City….like Skip, my birthplace and born the same year……in fact 11 days apart! I enjoyed hearing you play banjo with Matt on clarinet…..very nice duo! As for solo, I always love hearing your “Mona Lisa”….and “Will the Circle be Unbroken” was a fantastic group closing. The best part of all, however, was the laughter that surrounded me! My dearest friend sitting beside me contributed in nonstop laughter…..from hearing your pound cake story to the Sear’s husky department! Behind me was a guy who had a laugh I could listen to for the rest of my life! Between my friend and the stranger I was in 7th Heaven! What a needed gift, Sean, bringing the house down….not only by applause and a standing ovation….but continuous audience laughter, indeed good medicine for the soul!
Who of us would be anywhere if we listened to all the folks who said you can’t do it?