Long-time Columbus “trucker country” band The Sovines are playing a special show at Cafe Bourbon Street, Thursday July 10 in support of community radio station WCRS. Joining them on the bill are Bee Humana and Closet Mix.

The Sovines formed in 1995 when a friend suggested to Bob Starker and Matthew Benz that they should form a band to play country truck driving songs and call themselves “the Sovines,” after famed country singer Red Sovine. It might have been said in jest, but Starker and Benz ran with it. With bass player Ed Mann and drummer Pete English (and later Gene Brodeur on drums), the Sovines took their revved-up take on truck-driving songs, punky rock n’ roll, country ballads and roots rock on the road and in the studio, through five albums and a lot of shows. This show will mark their first live appearance in over three years.

If you think prescription drugs are getting more dangerous, you are right. Once upon a time if a drug were linked to dangerous side effects or deaths, it would simply not be approved. End of story. Now, the risks are transferred to the patient in the form of detailed warnings on the label and TV commercials.

This provides a false sense of security. Most patients still believe a doctor would not prescribe a drug if it weren't safe and doctors still believe the FDA would not approve a drug it weren't safe. In many cases, both have barely noticed the take-at-your-own-risk status of many prescription drugs which once would not have been approved.

The parade of injected biologic drugs that currently dominate the advertising "space,"–– Humira, Dupixent and Stelara––would once not have been approved because of their serious side effects like immunosuppression in light of the minor conditions they address. Some suggest the wide swath of citizens taking advertised biologics explained the US' Covid dramatic toll compared to countries with populations not on immunosuppressing drugs.  

We sat an outdoor platform in Nassjo, Sweden, awaiting the train that would take us to Arlanda Airport in Stockholm for our return flight to Texas. I had attended a professional conference there, and my wife had explored the city more thoroughly than my time allowed. Afterwards, we explored Scandinavia, wandering to Gothenburg, Copenhagen, and to my great-grandparents birthplaces in Smaland in Central Sweden. The morning train from Växjö to Nassjo had lasted about an hour, and we were enjoying the late summer afternoon, only to be interrupted by a barrage of text messages.

“You should call or text someone about your house; horrible flooding and people evacuating” The texts were variations on that theme. My brother returned my call with news that “things didn’t look good.” Anxiety prevailed for 24 hours. It was worse than we feared, damage that 18 inches of standing water would produce; outdoor furniture washed downstream, never to be seen; damaged photographs and pictures stored in closets, never to be hung; papers in our study drawers, illegible by mud stains.