A whistling pig? What is that!

I shall tell you!  Yesterday I stopped to pick up my mail (which was actually mail from the day before) and I found this:

Inside was a very nice hand written note from Fred Keller apologizing for not sending these 3  CD's that Sam wanted me to have.  Now, Sam had not told me anything about any CD's nor had he mentioned The Whistlepigs String Band in any conversation.  I was pretty sure had he been to Minnesota to attend a concert by any Whistlepigs, he would have at least mentioned it in passing.  And a jug band with a banjo, mandolin, guitar and a bass was not in his music preference.  Hell, it was not in mine either!  A mystery!

Since Sam was at work and I did not want to bother him and I had a custom order patchwork bird seed catcher to make I decided to pop it in the player.  I am an avid fan of old country, but I do love a mandolin and guitars and a banjo.  What a pleasant surprise!  I have got to say, my sewing time flew by and I was thoroughly entertained.  It seems my son knows me better than I know myself!

This is a picture of the band, which I now love!  So now to solve the mystery of how this came to be in my mailbox.  My son lives in Dallas and works at Southwest University Medical Center as an IT.  In this capacity he consults with people all over the country, most of which is done remotely.   Fred Keller, who is the leader of the band is married to a lady (I forgot her name) who he met through his work.  I am very glad that he talked to her and found out about this band.

The point is he knew I would like this and he was right!  I had never heard this kind of music since "HeeHaw" left the television many years ago.  I am going to keep these 3 CD's in my car because there is too much distracting me here in the house to give my full attention to this and it deserves my full attention!

So a big thank you to Fred Keller, Joel Olson, Chris Jones and Ross Willits, way up there in Sandstone, Minnesota, for brightening an old lady's day and days to come.  You have brought back memories that have been long forgotten in my old gray head.  Days in Garden City listening to the guys picking at Lee and Iris Day's house when Julia Day Torres was a tiny little squirt with bright red hair.  That is one of my fondest memories back then.  Of course Lee and Iris are long gone along with Duane and the rest.  Sad how a tune, or a smell, can take you back, isn't it?

Right now my mind is back in Garden City, Kansas in that 2 story house on the corner of "something and something else."  Better wind this up or it is going to be a very long day!

Peace to you all and thank you to The Whistlepigs String Band and my son for knowing me so very well.  I love you all!

Now I realize my mistake!

Fifty years later, I see my mistake!  Well, it is way to late in the game to correct it, but I can look back on it and laugh.  Trust me, there are not a lot of mistakes that are not funny, but this one is.

Let me set the scene.  I had divorced my first husband and my 5 kids and I were living in the 5th street house.  I was working at the Red Carpet Restaurant.  I was dating a long legged guitar picker who was in a band that played around the county.  He was not the brightest bulb in the box, but he was a warm body and while he still lived with his mother and father,  he was a step up from nobody.

Christmas came and of course gifts were exchanged.   He arrived with his arms full from himself, his mom and his sister.  By the time the unwrapping was over, all the tags were lost.  I do not remember what all was in the pile, but I did know the tags were lost.  So here I set with 3 pairs of sturdy cotton underwear, a pair of electric scissors, and a new Bible and a study guide and tags that said, mom, sister and boyfriend..

 No clues.  All three gifts could be referred to as they.  The scissors were pink, the underwear were white, and the Bible and Study guide were black.    I was sure his sister had given me the Bible.  Which left him giving me cotton underwear which made sense because I needed new underwear and had remarked that I would buy some just as soon as I got my Christmas bonus.  He did not remember who sent what, so when I called his mom to thank her for the gift I was vague.

"Oh, thank you so much.  How did you know exactly what I needed?"
"Well, I thought they would come in handy.  I hope they are the right color.  They had several choices."
"Of course!  That is always a safe choice."
"They looked pretty durable so I got those."

For some reason, by the time the conversation reached this point, I decided she had given me the electric scissors.  I would go with that.
 

Then she said, "Well, I hope you make good use of them."
"Yes, I think I will use them tonight!"
"Good idea!"

Looking back, I could have said, "Listen, your dipwad son lost the tags and I have no idea what you gave me, but I am sure it is nice whatever it is, because I know you bought all three and just put their names on the tags."  But I didn't say that, did I?  Hell, no.

I was always a little sad, that she never became my mother-in-law, because I think I could have grown to like her.  But it was not to be.  It was a few weeks later I saw his sister and she asked how the scissors cut.  Aha!  She sent me the scissors.  That meant his mom gave me the Bible.  Since I could not keep my finger off that phone I called her to tell her how much I was enjoying her gift and how confident I was since I was using them every day.  She seemed a little strange after that conversation for some reason.  I thought she would be pleased that I was studying the Bible.

And then I decided to actually wear a pair of my new underwear.  When I opened the box and took out the top pair a gift tag fell out.  It said simply "Delores"  (or what ever her name was).  And then I remembered our conversations.  They took on a whole new meaning.

Our friendship seemed a little strange after that.  Not long after that the guitar picker wandered off in search of some big boobed woman with no kids and who liked to set it the bar and listen to him twang away on his guitar.  I moved on, but that Christmas has always lived in the back of my mind.  It is nothing I talk about but it still pops up in memory every now and then.  I am sure his mom is no longer alive so I can write about it now.  He may still be around, but who knows?  The whole thing is just one of those things that transpired and then was gone.  It was important at the time, and in hindsight was really nothing at all.

Just goes to show you that sometimes what really wasn't stays in memory and becomes just that, a memory.

Hey, here we are last Thursday!

Went to the Faith Leaders in Action Press Conference in partnership with Together Colorado last Thursday at noon.  Ran into several people I knew and met a very nice lady.  I forgot my camera because 30 minutes earlier I was still in my jammies!  Oh, hell!  I am supposed to be some where else.  So I tossed on something that was not jammies and ran to town.  So back to the nice lady.

Her name is Janet Wallis Altmann and she had her camera.  She said I should feel free to steal pictures from her facebook page, so that is where this came from.  She is with the Pueblo Latino Democratic Forum and she said I could join even though I am not Latino, so I figure to look into that very soon.  If someone as nice as Janet is in charge, I want to be there.  And I am a Democrat.  And a liberal and short.

So this picture is one I lifted from her album.  On the left is the Reverend John Mark Hild  of the Metropolitan Church.  The couple in the center are David and Margaret Barber from the Christ Congregational United Church of Christ in Belmont.  And I am on the right representing First Congregational United Church of Christ  in the Mesa Junction area.  Steve Parke played his guitar and we all sang.  Let me see if I can steal his picture.

Ah!  There he is!  I am getting quite adept at stealing other people's work.  I just love to sing along with Steve.  Every where I go, he is around some where and we manage to hit a note or two.  Makes me feel so special.  So the reason we were here today was to present a united front in asking that we could actually talk to the gun advocates on a level ground without all the emotion.  Doesn't seem like too unreasonable to ask that.  But it was a lovely moment.

Reverend  Dr. Neema  Caughran presented two lovely sentiments, one from Ghandi and one from Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. which were both lovely.  My little mind did not retain the words, but they gave me peace and in this world of anger and incivility  for what more can I hope ?  Little peace of mind here and a few kind words there is what makes the world go around. 

So to my new friend who lets me steal pictures and my friend Neema who gives me peace of mind, I send a big thank you and say to the readers of mine who read this blog, be kind to each other, and remember, You can not sprinkle showers of happiness on other people without getting a few drops on yourself.

 

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!