Mark Twain said, "There never was a life lived on the face of the planet that wasn't a failure in the eyes of the one who lived it."

Roscoe was a great and a fine artist. There just aren't many of us who know that. John (and Tracy and Mike) brought him and his amazing high lonesome sound to a place where we could not only notice the man and his singular talents, we could also mourn his passing in poverty while never knowing what impact he did have on a few of us. (Too few of us.)

Heather Wood, just today, e-mailed me what she wrote about Bob Copper's memorial in Rottingdean, Sussex (U.K.). She wrote it for the New York Pinewoods Folk Club's newsletter. Bob Copper was a man who experienced and knew that he and his family had made some large waves in our little folk pond. --- On both sides of it actually. Bob Copper was the exception to Mr. Twain's bit of doggeral/insight. If there had been bumpers in Mark Twain's time, his blurb would've surely made it onto a B.S.---(a bumper sticker.)

I'm left wishing that Roscoe Holcomb could've had the benefits of Zoloft. That's no joke. I really mean it.

For a few interesting photos of Roscoe, please look into some photos I took at the web space Bruce Kallick provided on his site for those photos:

http://rudegnu.com/art_thieme.html