In Shakespeare, as in myths and stories throughout the ages, forests are magical and transformative places. Weavers grow ass-heads in Shakespeare's woods. Lovers elope. They write reams of passionate letters and fall in and out of love there.
At the ripe old age of seven -- almost unheard of for a commercial breed with all the associated ailments -- Boone has already lived 25 times longer than 99 percent of his comrades who were not so lucky.
I've never heard a musician say a bad or even indifferent word about Levon Helm. The common thread is their reverence for Levon's playing and spirit verges on the supernatural. At his funeral, the pastor begged us not to mourn but to rejoice.