I was a “road warrior” for two decades spending way too much time flying around the USA and some international destinations for my business. I knew that I was flying too much when two of my best friends were the bartender and a breakfast cook at the Denver airport. This song is about the breakfast cook.

Ruben caught me one day in the terminal hallway and shared some of his recent stories. I was so taken by his stories that day that I felt the need to go straight to the gate for my next flight and capture some of the words flowing of of me. After a lot of typing, I realized that I was at the wrong gate! (I did make the flight as the doors were closing.)

The words became the lyrics to this song. The music showed up almost a year later and the song became one of my favorites.

December 2021 - I was recently flying through Denver and learned that Ruben was no longer working there after the pandemic. However, I did find his bowling partner who was still employed and was able to get his cell phone number. For now, his number is not accepting calls. The story lives on……..

The East Cape on Baja California Sur sits on the Sea of Cortez from the tip of the Baja north to La Paz. The story for Ghosts of Esmerelda came from one of my many visits to this area. The night I first heard the story was years ago. The tequila infused evening ended in the wee hours. As we left the ranch, my partner spoke of her vision of the ghosts on our way back to the casita where we were staying. The words to the chorus came to me in one rush of awareness right then.

Years and another visit or two south to the Baja passed with the chorus on a piece of paper on my songs to be considered pile. I just could not find the voice I needed to tell the story. In the meantime, I researched the history of the Baja peninsula to find out why everyone was so nice and hospitality so present there.

In the spring of 2022, while taking a songwriting workshop with Mary Gaither, magic happened. The voice to tell the story came to me….. an old man who was a neighbor of the ranch at the time. A neighbor was actually part of the original story told to me that fateful evening. It just took a few years for all the pieces to come together.

The verses came flowed once I had the old man to tell the story. The chorus remained in its original, unedited form.