Hard to believe a year has past dear friend. We didn't make it to Harley's this winter season. Hard to go and know the Bushriders would be playing with out you; hard to face them and not scream at them, "How could you leave when he needed you the most." But then none of really knew what you were fighting inside. We listen to your songs; we sing "The Desert" with an added verse. And we sing "The Ballad of John Harley"; Will changed the last verse to him sitting on the bar stool instead of you. Oh I miss you, those blue eyes, that smile, mornings in the bar, dancing to your Texas two-step music, singing along as you sang to the Sunday crowd, watching you move those shoulders when you were really getting in to the music, talks when you stopped at the van, and just your presents at Harley's. Rest in peace dear friend. Calida and Jim are doing a great job keeping the place going; your dream has survived. Sylvia is doing well too when we talk, but I'm sure she wishes you were still sitting on that bar stool. HUGs.