Nancy Wood - That's Me!

In case you can't read this, the title of the album is "The Best of Nancy Wood".

In case you didn't know it, that's my name; Nancy Wood.

So does anyone know anything about this chick who is going around impersonating me in a cowboy hat and a bad western shirt?

I can't find her anywhere else online. I checked Amazon and there are no CDs with this title. I think she is a fraud.

I found this album cover when I searched this weird search engine called Red Zee.com. I searched images for Nancy Wood (You never know if someone might have posted one of my old headshots or high school photos online. You gotta do a vanity check every so often, right?).

This is not the first time I found someone trying to pass themselves off as me.

One of the most annoying things is that there is a new-agey artist named Nancy Wood. She does Native American art or books or something. One of the reasons I was happy to change my name when I got married was so that I would avoid any and all future confusion between the two of us. I mean, it was embarassing to go to the Indian Casino - I mean the way they fawned (fauned?) over me.

It is a bit confusing since our Wood family lore suggest a Native American heritage. Do you think this woman has truly stolen my identity? What if I really did write all of those poems about mountains and moons? I mean, I have thought about those things. It's all very transcendental. I mean, maybe she is my spirit-guide or something? I think spirit guides are typically wolves or something like that - but I guess it can be a person. I don't know what the rules are as far as that goes. But she's probably not because as far as I can figure she is still very much alive, dancing in a purple dress on the Continental Divide.

Mountains that are looked at have a particular grace,
some are rounded and gentle, others have a wildness
of spirit, the sharp rock face of invincibility.
Still others beckon with deceptive calm, luring the unwary
with their raw beauty, heads buried in clouds, sunlight
dancing on meadows like sky fingers.. The great rock god
Of the mountains sleeps with one eye open to catch eagles
and elk, wind and rainbows, the strong of limb who climb
those peaks because a mountain lives inside them.

~ Nancy Wood, from Dancing Moons

Well, all I know is I am damn glad I changed my name. Now I am free to write my own nature-based poetry from the front porch of my farm as I stare out at a couple of hills we call mountains.

I might make an album but I would never wear that shirt or be that tan ever again - so there is little chance of confusion between me and the singing-cowboy version of me. Plus I have a banjo, not a guitar.