Wade Gentry:  

Played and recorded music, touring the country for several years until settling in central Ca. Moved to Seattle in '84 due to shrinking job oportunities down south, only to discover the same conditions here, so after struggling several years finally had to let the music dream go. Have lived in Bremerton since '85, now have family, good lady, two boys (14 and 10) and a psycho cat. Work at Harrison Medical Center in Silverdal as a surgical instrument sterilization tech. Still write and record music on my little 8 track studio workstation. Can't get it out of your blood! People always say it must be incredibly cool to travel on the road and have all those wonderful adventures. Yeah, it's fabulous...for about 3 months. Slowly you begin to realize that you can't remember what your room looked like last week, unless of course you're working for Holiday or Ramada, because they're all carbon copies of one another. The food seems to meld together into one long cheese burger,fry,bacon,eggs over easy,hashbrowns,coffee,milkshake,hold the pickles hold the lettuce special orders don't upset us,burrito surprise, that tastes the same no matter where you are. There's never time to see anything, because you're traveling, at night . You shut down one gig, tear down the gear, get back to your room and load your clothes and other stuff out (even more fun when kids are involved) and hit the hiway at 4:00 a.m. to travel the 1200 miles to the next club, find a motel, dump the family stuff, hit the club, set up the gear, do a preliminary sound check, and if you're damn lucky get back to the room to take a shower before you have to hit the stage looking and sounding coherent and like you are having the grandest time of your life. After one particular shower you're in such a rush to get back to the club on time that you forget your wallet, and when you strap on your guitar to walk on stage [just on time], the local musicians union rep stops you to see your up to date union card. Needless to say under threat of a $1200 fine he forces you to go get said wallet, making the band late to open, causing the club to dock the entire band's wages since you all missed the start time. My my, livin' the dream! EEE GADS (that's omg for the Shakesperian deprived). That came off more negative than it was meant to be. Just wanted to take the fairy dust off the myth, not disintegrate it! The truth is, being an entertainer on the road is like anything else in life. Good things happen, bad things happen. Mostly it's a matter of perspective. Some things that I viewed as negative while circumstances were whirling about me now seem positive, while others feel the opposite. Life is strange. [there's a song there somewhere] The best part of road life, or playing music for a living for that matter, is the feeling of freedom. When you're out there there's no pressure of any authority on your neck, you're busy being your own man. This week you're here making friends and enjoying people, next week you're there doing the same thing. In between is the hiway, truckstops , hopefully good coffee, and the ever present sunrise. There's nothing like the feeling of seeing twilight become morning after keeping awake on the CB for most of the nite talking to Loose Goose from Cincinatti, Ohio. Maybe it's a lack of brain chemicals sleep provides, but at that time of day it seems so incredibly peaceful you can't comprehend anything being wrong with the world. Even if life is crumbling around your ears at the time all things seem RIGHT in the early hours. Ok, I've rambled on enough about "the biz" I suppose (alto for me there is no more fascinating topic). If you've stuck with me so far you're more than likly getting a bit tired of it, so we'll move on. Getting to this stage of life has been a long strange trip, to quote Jerry Garcia. After Freddie left and took the kids to Oklahoma I was devastated. The divorce ripped out my soul and left a gaping wound that no amount of drugs and booze could fill, though I gave it a mighty effort. I crawled into a bottle and didn't begin to emerge for over a year, all the while ruining my reputation in the musical community and chasing away many contacts in the field. When the fog began to lift a bit I still didn't realize that what was wrong was within me, and only I could take care of the problem. I was firmly convinced that some one else could fix my broken spirit. Enter wife # 2. Years later I realized she saw me as a ticket to the good life. My career was getting back on track, People in the right places were listening again, I actually showered and used deoderant daily. An amazing thing! She thought she was hitching her wagon to a rising star, destined for the Country Music Hall of Fame. When I quite the business, she lost interest. The irony is the decision was based entirely on my realization that the welfare of her daughter was more important than my goals. The poor girl was 13, going to an upper class yuppie middle school, and standing in 2 feet of snow at the bus stop with her toes sticking out the splits in her shoes. I was faced with a conundrum. I could buy the mike cords we needed to earn money, or buy shoes with the right logo on them so the spoiled little snot noses at her school would give her a break. The shoes won out, but that moment was the beginning of the end for marriage # 2. After I began working in the real world, it didn't matter what I tried to do as a father, it was wrong. If I tried to dicipline she'd respond that if my "perfect little angels" ever did a thing like ...Expand for more