This afternoon I saw on Facebook that country western singer George Jones passed away. And I'm just struck by how sad this makes me feel. He was a Texas boy, born in Saratoga, which is just down the road from the little Texas town where I was raised. A local boy that made it big, a living C&W legend. He drank like a fish for most of his life, but boy could he sing.
"The Corvette Song" is one of my two steppin' favorites - gotta love a song with a twist.
And then there's my favorite ballad, the one that makes you pay close attention to the message. Kinda makes you blue. That's the beauty of country music. Or at least it is with the classics. I grew up with grandparents and parents who listened to country music. Then when I was old enough to make my own music decisions, I often chose country, too. It's a southern thing, kinda like iced tea and cornbread. Everybody gives it a try at some point.
Don't get me wrong - I loved listening to rock greats like Elton John, but seldom understood half of what he was singing about on the radio. "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" is a perfect example. I still have no clue what he's saying to this day. But you'll always understand country music, even when it makes you wanna put on your shitkickers (Texas talk for boots) and hit the local honky tonk. Or maybe cry in your beer.
Godspeed, Possum. I hope you've found a couple of good ol' country western pickers to make sweet music with on the other side.
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