Some years ago I saw a TV commercial where a mother is driving her car following her young son traveling on foot with a teddy bear in one hand and suitcase in the other trekking down the sidewalk to run away with the circus.
When you were a little boy or girl did thoughts of running away with the circus ever cross your mind?
I have often wondered what makes an enduring television show. One of my all-time favorite shows was “The Waltons.” I was saddened recently to hear of the passing of Ralph Waite who played “John Walton.”
Growing up, that show reflected most closely the South of my parents and grandparents. I related to John and Olivia, John-Boy, Jason, Mary Ellen, Ben, Erin, Jim-Bob and Elizabeth, Esther and Zeb as if they were part of my own family. Earl Hamner Jr. created this masterpiece of Americana based on his life growing up during the Depression and World War II.
As I walk in the porch door the golden chimes hanging on the door jingle, in my mind I think back to when I said, “Hi Mom, I’m home,” of course, there is no one physically there to hear me. It was simply a greeting that I grew accustomed to uttering for so many years and it took me quite a while to get over the mechanical habit after her passing. I knew in time uttering the words would simply fade as my mind gave in to the fact that I was doing something which could be perceived as silly if heard by another living human being.
There are many times in my life when I have searched for the reason someone that I care for becomes ill or suffers through some series of events.
I have sat by the bedside looking at tubes connected to someone’s body; and watched people struggle to find a new normal while coming back from a change in health.
The sun’s rays offered a great warmth to my cheek as I began my walk along frog leg creek. It had been many years since I eased my feet along the path I had run along so swiftly as a boy. The water in the creek churned up a froth as it swirled over the rocks aiming its strength at forcing the water south ward. A large brown leaf fell with a thump upon my head. Perhaps it wasn’t quite a thump, more like quick poke.
I have enjoyed the honor of working for many years to spread the news about the wonderful work accomplished by the Southern Gospel Music Association to honor those who have innovated and made strides in Southern gospel music.
This year at the induction ceremonies in Dollywood held in conjunction with the Singing News Fan Awards, there were six inductions.
Stars from Red Skelton to Roy Acuff got their starts performing on a show where a medicine show “Doc” gathered folks around to sell a sure cure.
It was this same circumstance under the watchful eye of “Doc” M.F. Chamberlain that a youthful Tommy Scott got his start as a professional touring musician in 1936. By that time the show was already 46 years old and the 19-year-old Scott tossed his guitar over his back and left the farm to sleep in a wagon and earn $6 a week.
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As I stumble sleepily from the bed, I weave up the hall to my office. I swing by my computer hitting the on button as I head to the kitchen to pour a bowl of raisin bran.
I grab an apple as well and head back to sit down at my desk as I take the first bite of my apple, and type in my e-mail account password to check what has accumulated over night.
Before I went to sleep, I had spent at least an hour following up on Facebook, Twitter and YouTube accounts among others.
“Two boys in Illinois took a short (cut) across an orchard, and did not become aware of the presence of a vicious dog until it was too late to reach either fence. One boy was spry enough to escape the attack by climbing a tree, but the other started around the tree, with a dog in hot pursuit, until by making smaller circles than it was possible for his pursuer to make, he gained sufficiently to grasp the dog’s tail, and held with desperate grip until nearly exhausted, when he hailed his companion and called him to come down.
As I stood at the podium at the Country Music Hall of Fame’s Ford Theater in Nashville, I anxiously searched for the right transitional words to introduce one of my favorite groups – The Riders in the Sky.
I have always admired western music, from the configurations of the harmonies to the mix of the instruments and the musical styles fused into what became the standards in the western films of the 1930s-50s and beyond.
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