And the music goes on.

I remember the place I was standing when I learned that Hank Williams had died in the back seat of his car on the way to appear in a show, probably at the Grand Ole Opry.  A block over from our house on Strong Street was the highway.  There was one block of sidewalk that ran past the Fein house and on the corner there were steps that led from the highway up to the sidewalk.  There were hand rails on both sides and that was one of my places to "skin the cat" if you know what that is.  I was there and my brother came to tell me that Hank Williams had died.  I think I was about 14 years old.  He and I had listened to the Grand Ole Opry forever on his car radio that was hooked up to a battery.  Hank left his wife Audrey and a son, Hank Williams, Jr.

I do not remember the year, but it seems like it must have been 1955.  I could Google it, but the date is not important.  What was and still is important are the many Saturday nights that Jake and I set in the moonlight with him fiddling with the knob on the radio and the thrill when the announcer (forgot his name) came on and announced the show, "And now from Nashville, Tennessee its The Grand Ole Opry!"  And the people at the Grand Ole Opry began to clap and cheer and it was just like we were there!  I knew someday when I grew up that I would go to Nashville and I would set in the front row and I would hear Hank Williams sing and I would love him my whole life!

Sadly, I never made it to Nashville, but I did love Hank Williams my whole life.  Even when I grew into my rock and roll stage and fell in love with Elvis Presley, I never forgot Hank Williams. I remember my first record player.  It only played 78 rpm's and it was scratchy.  That did not matter.  I could close my eyes and go back to when he was alive.  I only had one or two records then, but now I have every song he ever made.  One of them has his wife singing with him.  She is a caterwauler, if you know what that is.  But I listen to her and sing along, because she was his wife.

I remember how I waited for his son to grow up and take his place.  I also remember when Hank Williams, Jr. started singing.  What a let down that was.  Hank Williams was a skinny little drifter with a big hat and a guitar and here was this little pudgy kid who could not hold a candle to his father.  He tried, but it just did not happen and then he went rogue and sang and beat on his guitar like the rock and roll stars of that era.  I never made that leap.

I remembered my Hank Williams and to this day, I am his most devoted fan.  I listen to classic country.  The old song, by the old artists and nothing else.  I do have one Alan Jackson but it is hymns.  Garth Brooks grates on my soul and his music is akin to fingernails on a chalk board.  Apparently, though, it is just me, because they have enjoyed a lot of success.

I do not live my life around Hank, though. I have some Loretta Lynn and Conway Twitty.  Charlie Pride is the only concert I ever attended.  I just hauled all my good 33 1/3 records to my daughter in Longton, along with my turntable.  I wanted them to go somewhere that they would be played and enjoyed.  

A lot of time has passed since my brother and I listened to the Grand Ole Opry, but I still hear it in my head.  If I lose all my senses at some point in time, I expect fully to still hear the staticky music in my head from Nashville, Tennessee and I am pretty sure when I take my last breathe that I will be met on the other side by Hank Williams, Patsy Cline a whole slew of others and maybe they will let me walk across the floor of the Ryman Auditorium.  Maybe they will even let me grab the microphone and wail out my version of "Your Cheatin' Heart."

It is a dream worth holding on to!

Why do I listen to Classic Country Music?

Because when one of the old guys starts singing I can understand the lyrics and the lyrics are the song as far as I am concerned. Like this one by Conway Twitty. He tells it like it is. https://youtu.be/XOLsaTRrWCs. No banging on a an electric guitar. No screaming out words that are not in the English language. Just down to earth words about pain, love, cheating, prison, trucks, momma and old dogs and children and watermelon wine. Like the one I linked up above. That one is "She needs someone to hold her when she cries," And I wish I had a dollar for every time that song ran through my head. Oh, not now, but back in the days of worthless men and binge drinking.

I know it is hard to picture me as ever having been young and even harder to picture me in a mini skirt out on a dance floor with men actually waiting to be the next one to spin me around the floor.  Sadly, I had a small problem with alcohol back in those days and my evening usually ended up with me on the floor praying to that porcelain god known as the toilet bowl.  It was at that point of the evening that the boys ideas of romance were out the window. Whoever had brought me understood that they were to take me home.  Whether it was a female friend or my date of the evening, it was their job to deliver me back to where they found me.  That followed another rule my mother had taught me, "You leave with the one who brung you!"  Yep.  Mothers words are embed in my brain clear down to my feet!  She was the wisest woman I knew then and she still reaches down on occasion and pulls me up short of some mess I am about ready to get myself into.

What Mother has to do with country music and beer drinking songs, I do not know.  I just know she has been gone for many years and she still pops in from time to time to give me those knuckles on top of my head!  Did your mother ever do that to you?  That crack from those boney knuckles always stopped me in my tracks no matter what I was doing.  I am sure I did that to my kids also and for that I beg their forgiveness.  Or do I?  Maybe not.  I have raised some damn good kids.  They all have the basics down pat.  They are honest, hard working, dependable, independent, and devoted to their mother!  They check in from time to time and are not clingy.  As far as I know, they have never been in jail and if they were it was not for very long.  

So I do not know how I got from the virtues of country music to raising kids, but I suppose my mind just took one of its turns that it is famous for, but I think there is a lesson in here some where.  Shortly after Kenneth and I got together (We lived in sin one year.  Wanted to see if we could get along before we tied the knot and had to get a divorce.) he came home and said he had just heard "Our song".  The one he came up with was "Close enough to perfect for me." https://youtu.be/UVivkbmu3To .  When I heard that song I knew that this was a marriage made in heaven.  If he could accept me as I was, where I was, then we would make it.  And we did.

Kenneth has been gone 17 years.  It seems like yesterday.  I rather doubt that there is another man alive who can accept me just as I am and where I am in my journey through this thing called "life."

So I am just going to treasure every day and do what I can to make someone happy some where.  Doesn't seem like there is much else to do.

And this is why Country Music will be around when I am gone.

I had a friend, key word here is "had", who explained to me that country was not an acceptable venue as far as the true music fans went.  He further went on to explain to me that the others in the Music Chat room on eBay had never tolerated Country until I came along and were only doing so because I was well liked in the room and had become buddies with some of the old timers.  Well, the Chat rooms on eBay are now history, but I still hang out with a few of those who were in there.  We have located to another chat room outside of eBay so we are all good to go.  Unfortunately I do not have the friend who said that to me, but I do still have Country Music.  And that is just why Country is here at my house and it always will be. 
See us country women do not have to dress up to the nines to go out.  We are just as at home in a pair of cut offs as the city girls are in silk and satin.  Some times we do like to "put on the dog" just to show the "good old boys" that it can be done.  We could stand around in a shimmery gown with our hair piled up high and hold a martini glass and you would never know we were hicks.  That is the beauty of country girls.  Try bringing your fancy ladies down to the farm to wrestle a baby calf away from it's momma, or throw the hay over the fence to the horse.  Ain't gonna happen, is it?  Your women don't like the smell of manure, but to us old country gals it is the smell of freedom and a steak on the grill.
And when you listen to the music that you listen to, does it tie your guts up in a knot?  I don't think so.  When we sing, we sing of heartache, pain, death, lust, happiness, tears and laughter.  Oh, yeah, and prison.  Our music has words that can wring tears out of the hardest heart.  I listen to yours and I have to try to identify the various instruments and then of course there is that other kind about "Whose yo' momma?" or "Who Let the Dogs Out?" God help me if I ever ended up at the Opera.  Oh, but then there is the "Grand Old Opera" isn't there?  My music tells a story of my roots and it doesn't pull any punches.  Give me a man whose left hand is calloused and I will give you a guitar picker.  I tried to learn to play the guitar once and my fingers were so sore that I gave it up.  And it did not matter that my teacher kissed them, they still hurt. 
Now I think it is fine that you like your music and I do not dispute your right to that, but leave me alone with Willie and Waylon and the boys and a little Hank and Lefty and we will be good to go, cause I gotta tell you this  Redneck Woman  is here to stay!  Hell Ya!  Hell Ya!

In the grand scheme of things, do I really matter?

Yesterday in one of my moments of reflection, I happened to think about a very vital person who is winding down his stay on earth.  This  man has been very active in the community, a very well respected man.  His eyes still twinkle when he talks, or at least most of the time.  And then I thought about my mother and how much knowledge she had.  I thought about her life and the sorrow she had endured and over come.  And I remembered grandma.  When a person releases their hold on life and the family and friends are left behind, it seems like an insurmountable task ahead to survive without that person.  When my brother died suddenly in a car crash, it was like a light went out in the world.  He was there with his laughing face and his winning ways.  He exuded life through every pore of his being.  And then he was no more.

I could not accept that.  It was inconceivable that he was dead.  He had a new son.  He had a wife.  He had found God.  He had everything to live for and yet his lifeless body was before me.  He did not move and he was cold.  He was my only brother and he was dead.  He was with my father.

This weekend is Memorial Day.  Memorial Day.  Like I need a day to remember all I have lost.  I visit the graves when I am near them.  Not my husband though.  He is here.  His marker is across town, but he is here.  I could not survive if he were not.  He was my life and his eyes were the clearest blue I have ever seen.  There is an advertisement that shows a woman, ready for bed, talking to someone.  She walks into the bedroom and the camera pans to an empty pillow.  She stops talking and shakes her head.  I wonder how many times I have lived that scene.  My very wise mother once told me that divorces are easy cause you have anger to keep you on track, but when you lose a partner they immediately take on sainthood and you only remember the good parts.  She was right.

For many years I would mourn the lost and think of the "what might have been" that had changed my life, but no more.  It has all been for a reason.  Every life and every death that has touched me has been very meaningful in one way or another. Now I can look back and see them all.  They live right in my peripheral vision and I can see them clearly.   I do not need to bring flowers.

I see my grandma with the sweetest smile and great grandma, so tall and regal.  Aunt Lola so stern.  Uncle Ray, the handsomest man in the whole world and his beautiful wife Beth.  I see Gary and what might have been;  Kenny and what was. I see my laughing Jake and Josephine with all her faults.  I see Gibby, Mark, Shirley, Marty, and a very, very long list of my friends who hold places on the AIDS Quilt and a very big piece of my heart.  I picture a tiny coffin when I was 15 and my sister lost her baby.  I see fallen leaders, assassins, and the list goes on and has no end.

But I see something else.  I see a future and I see myself being the one to go.  And that is my message to you today.  I am trying very hard to leave a legacy that will make all of you who know me proud.  So when my eyes are closed to open no more I want you to remember this....I lived as I lived.  My life made me the person you loved.  I have no regrets, no hard feelings.  I never met any one I did not like and I saw good in everyone.  I trusted my fellow man  and loved my God and I will be with him in Paradise.  I will watch the road for you and we are all going to have a glad reunion.  And one more thing, I think God plays Country Western on the loud speakers!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g2u_rEcWW8M&feature=related

A full moon over Pueblo, I hope it's shining on you!

I was going to post a picture of the full moon, but I do not seem to be able to locate the moon picture.  Do you like my title?  That should be a country song.  They could change Pueblo to Tulsa,  oh wait!  They already did that!  It seems like Shelly West and Somebody Frizzell sang that and it was a great hit.  Seemed like I really liked it.  Seems like someone will need to tell me who the guy was.

I love to look at the moon, whatever phase it is in.  It is so far up there and I am so little down here in comparison.  Makes me realize just how infinite the heavens really are.  I was laying in bed last night thinking about the dying part and I do not think that will really be so bad.  Probably not going to be anything I can put on this blog when I do it, being as how it will be one of those "once in a lifetime things!" 

I have been with several people when they took that last breathe and it does not seem to be anything except a peaceful passing over to the other side.  I think I will rather enjoy it.  However, I am also pretty busy right now enjoying what is going on here.  How I got off the subject of the moon is beyond me, but you know how my little mind works.  I am doing good kick starting myself in the morning without trying to keep me tracking in a straight line!

OK, here is where I think I was going with this moon thing.  I love to look at the moon in all of it's phases.  Crescent is nice and reminds me of a dinner roll.  I know if it is tipped to hold water there will be no rain.  If, however, it is tipped so water can run out, gonna rain!  When it is about half it is great and I do not know what that means, but I think it is kind of good fishing.  But when the moon is full and bright I love to look at it.  I guess they call that a harvest moon, or just a full moon.  I know I need to watch for werewolves.  I think it is also the lover's moon.  Well, that entails having something I do not have access to, so I will just go with the werewolves.

I know I have heard that the full moon effects people with mental problems, but I can not lay my hands on any statistics, so I just have to say, I have heard.  I love the moon and I am very glad it stays up there.  It must have a very strong string.  Someday I will go to the ocean and spend a month on the shore and keep notes.  Until then......... enjoy the moon for whatever reason you are looking at it cause it was really pretty last night.

If you have access to a honey pie, grab their hand and go outside and gaze upwards.  Just tell them Lou said!

Have a good one.