Once again, it’s that time for resolutions and resolve. What will it be this year? Lose weight? Climb a mountain? Buy a new car to help out the ailing auto industry? Save money by driving around the clunker for another year?
This year I want to concentrate on being “green.”
I want to help save the world, of course, but I also want to save a little bit of my own “green” and maybe put it in a savings account in the bank.
I already recycle my paper, which helps with the landfill fee, but I think there is more to do.
• Recycle plastics. I try not to buy things in plastic but of course there are many items that are plastic. I have a hard time with the #1 and #2 pete. My county only accepts those two classifications of plastic.
As best I can tell, #1 items would be soda and water bottles, salad dressing bottles and peanut butter plastic jars. Those #2 items would be milk bottles, detergent containers, and those plastic bags you get from Kroger.
My county says on its website that it does not accept the trash bags you buy.
• Save gasoline. Even though the price of gas is below $2 as I write this, I think this is an anomaly and higher prices will be something we will live with. Since I am a bit of a lead foot, I need to change my driving habits. It’s not like there is a bus out here.
Apparently I need to keep a clean air filter. Okay, that’s a husband chore. Other helpful things include proper tire alignment and tire inflation, a tune up (whatever that entails – better leave that one to the husband, too!), slowing down (every 5 mph slower saves gas), smoothly accelerating and decelerating (no more stop and jerk for me!), and not having long idle periods.
I think of those tips, slowing down and accelerating are the ones that are most applicable to me. So in the new year I will practice driving the speed limit instead of going 5-10 mph over and hoping I don’t get a ticket.
• Use less electricity. We heat and cool with electricity, which makes us high electricity users. Even so, a $300 light bill for a 1,700 square feet house seems like a lot.
I already have some items on smart strips, which allow you to completely turn off appliances. I also have compact fluorescent bulbs in many of my lights, but not all. My house is 20 years old and some of my ceiling light fixtures simply won’t work with those CFLs. My husband a few months ago actually broke a CFL trying to get it to fit in the hallway fixture.
I’ve read I should unplug appliances. However, many things take a very long time to power up if they’re completely unplugged. Who wants to miss the first five minutes of a show every evening because you have to wait for the DirecTV to do its count down and reset? Does leaving the TV on all day on the vampire juice setting use more power than if you cut the set on five minutes early? I don’t know and I can’t find the answer.
Another electricity-saving hint is washing only in cold water, but I have problems with clothes souring when I wash only on that temperature. Anyone know how to fix that?
• Buy local. I approve of the eating locally movement and I hope to be a stronger supporter of the local farmers market next year. I would like to buy other locally made products as well, though at the moment I don’t know what those might be.
• Use the library. I am a book hoarder and books find their way to my shelves with ease. The Botetourt County libraries (I serve on the Library Board of Trustees) offer up a veritable smorgasbord of reading materials. From fantasy to nonfiction to World War II histories to literary masterpieces, all are available at the libraries.
The 100,000 item collection has items for any age.
If the library doesn’t have the book you want, the helpful staff will locate it for you and you’ll get it eventually.
The library also has magazines, DVDs and tapes, books on tape, music CDs and Internet access. They even have an occasional movie night.
Your tax dollars already pay for these items, so why not take advantage of one of the best cultural assets the county offers? Save a lot of green, up the library’s use numbers, maybe even learn something. If nothing else, be entertained and feel good about it!
*A version of this was published in my column space in The Fincastle Herald on December 31, 2008.*
Showing posts with label Columns. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Columns. Show all posts
Saturday, January 03, 2009
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
And it became this column
On Friday, as I fretted over a column for the weekly paper, I blogged about my frustrations and inability to find a topic.
Since a number of my gentle readers offered suggestions, I thought I would share what I ended up with. I wrote this Sunday night and it is in The Fincastle Herald today (the issue printed early because of the holiday).
***
Botetourt County has a great deal for which I am thankful. I thought for the upcoming turkey day I would run down a list. Here you go, in no particular order:
Great views. There is hardly a place here where you can’t see something lovely. You might have to look over the rooftops of a few buildings to see a mountain, but they are there.
I include the towns and the many communities in with the great views. They all offer something unique to see. Aside from Fincastle (the county seat), Buchanan and Troutville, check out Eagle Rock, Glen Wilton, Daleville/Amsterdam, Blue Ridge, and Cloverdale. You’ll be amazed at what you find.
Rural landscape. The farmland we have remaining is a blessing. I am very grateful to the farmers who continue to till, plow and keep the fields. If it were not for them, we would have rows and rows of homes and scarcely a bucolic plot to play in. Thankfully, the rural nature remains in many areas of the county. There are even a few fields in southern Botetourt.
We also have a National Forest land, which is wonderful for protecting the land and the rural nature of the county. Can we ever have too many trees?
Locally owned. I am very glad we have locally owned restaurants and shops. I can spend a whole day shopping here if I want, and come away with unique items. While I’m doing it, I can eat at a unique restaurant.
Some places to check out include Meggie’s Mercantile, the Tin Roof, the Apple Barn, Three Li’l Pigs restaurant, Three Graces, and the new Pomegranite restaurant in Troutville (haven’t eaten there yet but it’s on my list). You can also try Ikenberry Orchards and the Botetourt Family Farmers Market, have a snack at Blue Collar Joe’s, buy gifts at Southern Past Times, visit the county’s floral shops, patron a number of arts and crafts people, including galleries in Buchanan, and spend money at many other places, more than I can list.
Historic properties. I am glad that in the 1960s some folks had the foresight and courage to begin preserving the ancient structures in the towns and elsewhere. Had they not done so, many of the buildings that look so Botetourt would not exist. These places tell tales and help us remember where we came from. They give the place character and keep it from looking like any ol’ exit off the interstate.
Kudos to the Town of Buchanan for the great job they’re doing in keeping its Main Street alive and thriving. Every time I go into town, I see something I think is cool. I am thankful the town has survived.
The people. Folks in Botetourt are great. They give wholeheartedly, they care about one another and they keep each other straight. When Mary Lou Mullis at Social Services called me last week to tell me they had received an outpouring of love and support for their Angel Tree and the Fuel Assistance program, I nearly cried. How great is it that when there is a need, folks respond?
My ancestry. This is different from the properties and more personal. My family has been in the county for 200 years. My roots here are deep and long. I have cousins and great-aunts and uncles and all kinds of family living here. Some of them I don’t know and some might not claim me, but we have a blood line and there’s a bond there whether it’s acknowledged or not.
It’s the kind of thing that can create a surprise when you realize you share a great-great-grandmother with the person you’re talking to.
I am particularly grateful for my ancestry because it brought me my husband, in a round about way.
I will never forget the day my husband’s great aunt, Lenna Etzler, told us we were cousins. We laughed about it and then dismissed it.
Then I did our family tree. Gads, there we were on the same line, sharing a set of great-great-great-great- grandparents. Cousins sure enough, though a very long way back.
If folks have lived in the county for any length of time, most likely they share a common ancestor or two. It can make for a fine hour of conversation.
It’s just another thing I’m thankful for while I live in Botetourt County. I hope you’re thankful that you live here, too.
Since a number of my gentle readers offered suggestions, I thought I would share what I ended up with. I wrote this Sunday night and it is in The Fincastle Herald today (the issue printed early because of the holiday).
***
Botetourt County has a great deal for which I am thankful. I thought for the upcoming turkey day I would run down a list. Here you go, in no particular order:
Great views. There is hardly a place here where you can’t see something lovely. You might have to look over the rooftops of a few buildings to see a mountain, but they are there.
I include the towns and the many communities in with the great views. They all offer something unique to see. Aside from Fincastle (the county seat), Buchanan and Troutville, check out Eagle Rock, Glen Wilton, Daleville/Amsterdam, Blue Ridge, and Cloverdale. You’ll be amazed at what you find.
Rural landscape. The farmland we have remaining is a blessing. I am very grateful to the farmers who continue to till, plow and keep the fields. If it were not for them, we would have rows and rows of homes and scarcely a bucolic plot to play in. Thankfully, the rural nature remains in many areas of the county. There are even a few fields in southern Botetourt.
We also have a National Forest land, which is wonderful for protecting the land and the rural nature of the county. Can we ever have too many trees?
Locally owned. I am very glad we have locally owned restaurants and shops. I can spend a whole day shopping here if I want, and come away with unique items. While I’m doing it, I can eat at a unique restaurant.
Some places to check out include Meggie’s Mercantile, the Tin Roof, the Apple Barn, Three Li’l Pigs restaurant, Three Graces, and the new Pomegranite restaurant in Troutville (haven’t eaten there yet but it’s on my list). You can also try Ikenberry Orchards and the Botetourt Family Farmers Market, have a snack at Blue Collar Joe’s, buy gifts at Southern Past Times, visit the county’s floral shops, patron a number of arts and crafts people, including galleries in Buchanan, and spend money at many other places, more than I can list.
Historic properties. I am glad that in the 1960s some folks had the foresight and courage to begin preserving the ancient structures in the towns and elsewhere. Had they not done so, many of the buildings that look so Botetourt would not exist. These places tell tales and help us remember where we came from. They give the place character and keep it from looking like any ol’ exit off the interstate.
Kudos to the Town of Buchanan for the great job they’re doing in keeping its Main Street alive and thriving. Every time I go into town, I see something I think is cool. I am thankful the town has survived.
The people. Folks in Botetourt are great. They give wholeheartedly, they care about one another and they keep each other straight. When Mary Lou Mullis at Social Services called me last week to tell me they had received an outpouring of love and support for their Angel Tree and the Fuel Assistance program, I nearly cried. How great is it that when there is a need, folks respond?
My ancestry. This is different from the properties and more personal. My family has been in the county for 200 years. My roots here are deep and long. I have cousins and great-aunts and uncles and all kinds of family living here. Some of them I don’t know and some might not claim me, but we have a blood line and there’s a bond there whether it’s acknowledged or not.
It’s the kind of thing that can create a surprise when you realize you share a great-great-grandmother with the person you’re talking to.
I am particularly grateful for my ancestry because it brought me my husband, in a round about way.
I will never forget the day my husband’s great aunt, Lenna Etzler, told us we were cousins. We laughed about it and then dismissed it.
Then I did our family tree. Gads, there we were on the same line, sharing a set of great-great-great-great- grandparents. Cousins sure enough, though a very long way back.
If folks have lived in the county for any length of time, most likely they share a common ancestor or two. It can make for a fine hour of conversation.
It’s just another thing I’m thankful for while I live in Botetourt County. I hope you’re thankful that you live here, too.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Happy Halloween!
My great aunt and uncle’s home in West Virginia supposedly was haunted.
When I was a child, we would visit and I remember my mother talking about the strange things that happened in the old house.
She did not like to stay there.
My mind is misty as I try to recall these spooky stories. Legends tainted with the eye of an imaginative youngster can often take a turn otherwise unexpected. I lay no claim to the truth herein.
The trip to Canvas, West Virginia was a long trek through the mountains, over winding roads that threatened us all with carsickness. It was always a relief to emerge from the vehicle into the sweet West Virginia air.
The house sat back in a hollow, shaded by huge old trees. The yard was a children’s paradise, with rocks covered with moss and beech and sassafras trees from which we would strip the bark. It tasted sweet and was a treat to us urchins.
Inside, Aunt Helen was always baking. The place smelled like a heaven of bread and fried chicken. The food spilled off the table in great abundance the entire time we were there.
Uncle Carmen and my father spent their day together picking guitars, singing bluegrass until the late hour forced my mother to ask them to be quiet so we could all get some sleep.
I have a teasingly faint memory of the sounds of a banjo playing late at night. Maybe it was my uncle or my father – but both men play guitar and mandolin. As a young musician myself, I knew a banjo when a heard it.
I rose and went to investigate. I hit a creak in the stair and the music stopped. Something rattled, like the sheathing of paper. I slipped on down the steps, shivering in a sudden chill. When I cut on the lights, there was no one.
The next morning I asked Uncle Carmen at breakfast why he played his banjo in the dark. Aunt Helen’s spoon froze on the way to her mouth.
“I don’t play the banjo,” Carmen said. Out of all my visits to his house, those words are the ones I most remember.
They told me I had dreamed the sounds.
On another visit, a clock in the living room where I slept on the couch that had never worked started chiming for no reason at all, waking me up.
It struck thirteen.
Suddenly the pipes in the bathroom sang, rattled and moaned with a fierce desire that made my hair stand on end.
And the rocking chair at the far end of the room began to creak as it rocked.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Then the water in the bathroom just off the living room turned on. The faucet handles apparently moved all by themselves, sending a splash of cold water down the washbasin.
This was a lot worse than a banjo singing out in the night.
If you think I sprang out of that room and hightailed it into the guest room where my parents stayed, you would be right.
**This originally appeared on October 29, 2008 in The Fincastle Herald under my column, Country Crossroads.
When I was a child, we would visit and I remember my mother talking about the strange things that happened in the old house.
She did not like to stay there.
My mind is misty as I try to recall these spooky stories. Legends tainted with the eye of an imaginative youngster can often take a turn otherwise unexpected. I lay no claim to the truth herein.
The trip to Canvas, West Virginia was a long trek through the mountains, over winding roads that threatened us all with carsickness. It was always a relief to emerge from the vehicle into the sweet West Virginia air.
The house sat back in a hollow, shaded by huge old trees. The yard was a children’s paradise, with rocks covered with moss and beech and sassafras trees from which we would strip the bark. It tasted sweet and was a treat to us urchins.
Inside, Aunt Helen was always baking. The place smelled like a heaven of bread and fried chicken. The food spilled off the table in great abundance the entire time we were there.
Uncle Carmen and my father spent their day together picking guitars, singing bluegrass until the late hour forced my mother to ask them to be quiet so we could all get some sleep.
I have a teasingly faint memory of the sounds of a banjo playing late at night. Maybe it was my uncle or my father – but both men play guitar and mandolin. As a young musician myself, I knew a banjo when a heard it.
I rose and went to investigate. I hit a creak in the stair and the music stopped. Something rattled, like the sheathing of paper. I slipped on down the steps, shivering in a sudden chill. When I cut on the lights, there was no one.
The next morning I asked Uncle Carmen at breakfast why he played his banjo in the dark. Aunt Helen’s spoon froze on the way to her mouth.
“I don’t play the banjo,” Carmen said. Out of all my visits to his house, those words are the ones I most remember.
They told me I had dreamed the sounds.
On another visit, a clock in the living room where I slept on the couch that had never worked started chiming for no reason at all, waking me up.
It struck thirteen.
Suddenly the pipes in the bathroom sang, rattled and moaned with a fierce desire that made my hair stand on end.
And the rocking chair at the far end of the room began to creak as it rocked.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Then the water in the bathroom just off the living room turned on. The faucet handles apparently moved all by themselves, sending a splash of cold water down the washbasin.
This was a lot worse than a banjo singing out in the night.
If you think I sprang out of that room and hightailed it into the guest room where my parents stayed, you would be right.
**This originally appeared on October 29, 2008 in The Fincastle Herald under my column, Country Crossroads.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Greed is Greed
“Rules are rules and greed is greed. What a sad world we live in!”
That’s not my quote. I read it in one of what must be thousands of citizens’ letters to the State Corporation Commission. The writer was opposed to three rate hikes that Appalachian Power Company presently has pending before the SCC.
Only one of the requests presently remains open for public comment.
This particular request asks for a 23.9 percent increase in rates. That means if your light bill is $100 a month now it will go to $123.90 if the rate increase is approved.
I was on the SCC website for an unrelated matter when the sheer numbers of APCO opposition letters caught my eye.
I glanced through several hundred of them. Of those, I saw only one letter in favor of the rate increase, and that was from a physician who worried that he would be in the middle of an important procedure only to have the power go out. I can see where that might be a concern.
Many of the letters are form letters, stating only “I oppose this rate increase.” There are also several petitions, each with hundreds of signatures.
A lot of the opposition comes from far southwestern Virginia. Folks down there appear to have organized against higher electric rates. At least one Board of Supervisors for one of Virginia’s poorer counties has put in a request for no rate increase, too.
Heartfelt letters, some written by hands so shaky the writing is barely legible, caught my eye as I flipped through the documents online.
I’ll let some of these folks speak for themselves:
“If Appalachian Power gets an increase many of us will either stop taking our medication or freeze this winter.”
“I live on a fixed income of $530.60 as do a lot of widows and widowers.”
“I am 81 years old and my wife is 76. We both have been very ill here lately. My wife has really had a tough time of it. With several cancer operations. We are both retired and social security only pays us small checks. We cannot pay any more money for electric power.”
“I am married with 2 children and my husband is disabled... currently we live on 652.00 a month. I can barely afford my normal light bill of $70 a month, let alone have to pay for an increase. My light bill this past month was $102 and I had to forgo my car payment just to be able to cover my light bill... barely surviving now.”
“We are a one income family with two children. With the economic problems everyone is facing we simply cannot afford to pay more for basics such as electricity.”
“My wife and I are both disabled and we are living on a low fixed income. We would like to ask (no beg) you not to approve the increased rate that Appalachian power co. is asking for. Because of the high prices for gas, food and medicine, etc. it is hard for people like us to make ends meet.”
“Me and my husband are 72 and 73 years of age. He has terminal asbestos related cancer. Our income has not let us fill our oil tank for three years. We do not get any assistance. We relied on electric oil filled radiators to get us through the last two winters. We cannot afford the large increases. He will have to have more heat this winter if he survives. I do not know what will happen if you pass this increase on to people like us.”
I wouldn’t want to be an SCC examiner, responsible for reading all of these letters and making a determination that somebody isn’t going to like.
Hard economic times don’t just hit folks who have lost their homes due to nefarious banking methods or who have lost money in the stock market. When the bad hits, it hits everyone, and the folks who have the least often end up on the worst end of hard situations.
They’re also the ones we don’t hear much about, which is why I wanted to share some of these comments with you. The current economic climate is having a terrible effect on the poor, which in this country includes an awful lot of elderly people. I wanted to get that out in the open.
If you are interested in commenting on Appalachian’s proposed 23.9 percent increase, pro or con, any easy way is to visit http://www.scc.virginia.gov/case/PublicComments.aspx and look for case number PUE-2008-00046. The SCC provides a form for easy commentary on cases where it solicits public opinion.
Be aware that the form asks for your name, address and telephone number. This information will be made available to the power company and will also be available on the same part of the SCC website where I found the above comments.
You can also submit written comments to Joel H. Peck, Clerk, State Corporation Commission, Document Control Center, P.O. Box 2118, Richmond, VA 23218-2118. Be sure to reference the case number PUE-2008-00046 in your comments.
This column originally appeared in the September 24, 2008 edition of The Fincastle Herald.
That’s not my quote. I read it in one of what must be thousands of citizens’ letters to the State Corporation Commission. The writer was opposed to three rate hikes that Appalachian Power Company presently has pending before the SCC.
Only one of the requests presently remains open for public comment.
This particular request asks for a 23.9 percent increase in rates. That means if your light bill is $100 a month now it will go to $123.90 if the rate increase is approved.
I was on the SCC website for an unrelated matter when the sheer numbers of APCO opposition letters caught my eye.
I glanced through several hundred of them. Of those, I saw only one letter in favor of the rate increase, and that was from a physician who worried that he would be in the middle of an important procedure only to have the power go out. I can see where that might be a concern.
Many of the letters are form letters, stating only “I oppose this rate increase.” There are also several petitions, each with hundreds of signatures.
A lot of the opposition comes from far southwestern Virginia. Folks down there appear to have organized against higher electric rates. At least one Board of Supervisors for one of Virginia’s poorer counties has put in a request for no rate increase, too.
Heartfelt letters, some written by hands so shaky the writing is barely legible, caught my eye as I flipped through the documents online.
I’ll let some of these folks speak for themselves:
“If Appalachian Power gets an increase many of us will either stop taking our medication or freeze this winter.”
“I live on a fixed income of $530.60 as do a lot of widows and widowers.”
“I am 81 years old and my wife is 76. We both have been very ill here lately. My wife has really had a tough time of it. With several cancer operations. We are both retired and social security only pays us small checks. We cannot pay any more money for electric power.”
“I am married with 2 children and my husband is disabled... currently we live on 652.00 a month. I can barely afford my normal light bill of $70 a month, let alone have to pay for an increase. My light bill this past month was $102 and I had to forgo my car payment just to be able to cover my light bill... barely surviving now.”
“We are a one income family with two children. With the economic problems everyone is facing we simply cannot afford to pay more for basics such as electricity.”
“My wife and I are both disabled and we are living on a low fixed income. We would like to ask (no beg) you not to approve the increased rate that Appalachian power co. is asking for. Because of the high prices for gas, food and medicine, etc. it is hard for people like us to make ends meet.”
“Me and my husband are 72 and 73 years of age. He has terminal asbestos related cancer. Our income has not let us fill our oil tank for three years. We do not get any assistance. We relied on electric oil filled radiators to get us through the last two winters. We cannot afford the large increases. He will have to have more heat this winter if he survives. I do not know what will happen if you pass this increase on to people like us.”
I wouldn’t want to be an SCC examiner, responsible for reading all of these letters and making a determination that somebody isn’t going to like.
Hard economic times don’t just hit folks who have lost their homes due to nefarious banking methods or who have lost money in the stock market. When the bad hits, it hits everyone, and the folks who have the least often end up on the worst end of hard situations.
They’re also the ones we don’t hear much about, which is why I wanted to share some of these comments with you. The current economic climate is having a terrible effect on the poor, which in this country includes an awful lot of elderly people. I wanted to get that out in the open.
If you are interested in commenting on Appalachian’s proposed 23.9 percent increase, pro or con, any easy way is to visit http://www.scc.virginia.gov/case/PublicComments.aspx and look for case number PUE-2008-00046. The SCC provides a form for easy commentary on cases where it solicits public opinion.
Be aware that the form asks for your name, address and telephone number. This information will be made available to the power company and will also be available on the same part of the SCC website where I found the above comments.
You can also submit written comments to Joel H. Peck, Clerk, State Corporation Commission, Document Control Center, P.O. Box 2118, Richmond, VA 23218-2118. Be sure to reference the case number PUE-2008-00046 in your comments.
This column originally appeared in the September 24, 2008 edition of The Fincastle Herald.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Country in my soul
I love everything about the country. For instance, there is nature in all her glory, the cows lowing, the deer eating my rose bushes, the rabbits chewing holes in my plastic fence to get at my beans.
It is all wonderful and beautiful and pleasing to my ears, eyes and nose. Even the rabbits.
But I do not listen to country music. I do not care for the wail of those who need to leave their husbands to catch a train because their mother-in-law is coming home from Folsom prison.
No, these days I listen to adult contemporary, or pop music, with new artists whose names I do not know. I do not listen to country music.
I was, however, raised on country music.
My father plays the guitar and back then he sang the country songs of the late 1960s and early 1970s.
Conway Twitty, Tom T. Hall, Charley Pride, Charlie Rich and Kris Kristofferson, not to mention Johnnie and June Carter Cash – that was the music of my early childhood.
I remember my father playing in the evening, strumming and trying to work out chords. He mostly played by ear as he sang the words to whatever country tune he decided to croon out any given evening.
My mother often joined in and they sang duets. I can still hear them singing “We got married in a fever, hotter than a pepper sprout. You’ve been talkin’ ‘bout Jackson ever since the fire burned out.” It made for a fun evening.
When I was 11, I decided to learn to play the guitar, too. I picked it up hesitantly. I quickly discovered that of the several instruments I played (piano, flute, saxophone), this was the one I truly loved.
I practiced in secret, moving quickly from Skip to My Lou to more popular pieces.
The first song I played for my parents was called California Girl (And The Tennessee Square) by Tompall And The Glaser Brothers.
It was a country song, played in the key of “A”.
I do not think I have ever heard that song played on the radio, but I heard my daddy sing it so that didn’t matter. It was his version I learned and his version that I played, only I played it faster and made the chord changes very quickly.
I went on to play guitar in a band, a short-lived teenage endeavor called Almost Famous that broke apart as we graduated high school and moved on to other things.
These days I very seldom pick up an instrument. My fingers are soft and tender now and the strings hurt when I try to play my guitar. Those hard-won calluses have vanished along with my youth.
But on quiet days sometimes, when I’ve something on my mind and the silence of the house can be a bit much when my husband is not at home, I sing.
And it’s often those old country tunes, with the sadness found in For the Good Times or the swaying blues of Bobby McGhee that I sing aloud to the kitchen walls.
Not some modern Bubbly or some belly grinder belted out by the likes of Britney Spears.
No indeed. I sing those country songs that I no longer listen to.
I sing them over and over again, as if it was yesterday and I am again 10 years old.
***
This originally appeared in The Fincastle Herald on August 20, 2008, under my Country Crossroads column.
It is all wonderful and beautiful and pleasing to my ears, eyes and nose. Even the rabbits.
But I do not listen to country music. I do not care for the wail of those who need to leave their husbands to catch a train because their mother-in-law is coming home from Folsom prison.
No, these days I listen to adult contemporary, or pop music, with new artists whose names I do not know. I do not listen to country music.
I was, however, raised on country music.
My father plays the guitar and back then he sang the country songs of the late 1960s and early 1970s.
Conway Twitty, Tom T. Hall, Charley Pride, Charlie Rich and Kris Kristofferson, not to mention Johnnie and June Carter Cash – that was the music of my early childhood.
I remember my father playing in the evening, strumming and trying to work out chords. He mostly played by ear as he sang the words to whatever country tune he decided to croon out any given evening.
My mother often joined in and they sang duets. I can still hear them singing “We got married in a fever, hotter than a pepper sprout. You’ve been talkin’ ‘bout Jackson ever since the fire burned out.” It made for a fun evening.
When I was 11, I decided to learn to play the guitar, too. I picked it up hesitantly. I quickly discovered that of the several instruments I played (piano, flute, saxophone), this was the one I truly loved.
I practiced in secret, moving quickly from Skip to My Lou to more popular pieces.
The first song I played for my parents was called California Girl (And The Tennessee Square) by Tompall And The Glaser Brothers.
It was a country song, played in the key of “A”.
I do not think I have ever heard that song played on the radio, but I heard my daddy sing it so that didn’t matter. It was his version I learned and his version that I played, only I played it faster and made the chord changes very quickly.
I went on to play guitar in a band, a short-lived teenage endeavor called Almost Famous that broke apart as we graduated high school and moved on to other things.
These days I very seldom pick up an instrument. My fingers are soft and tender now and the strings hurt when I try to play my guitar. Those hard-won calluses have vanished along with my youth.
But on quiet days sometimes, when I’ve something on my mind and the silence of the house can be a bit much when my husband is not at home, I sing.
And it’s often those old country tunes, with the sadness found in For the Good Times or the swaying blues of Bobby McGhee that I sing aloud to the kitchen walls.
Not some modern Bubbly or some belly grinder belted out by the likes of Britney Spears.
No indeed. I sing those country songs that I no longer listen to.
I sing them over and over again, as if it was yesterday and I am again 10 years old.
***
This originally appeared in The Fincastle Herald on August 20, 2008, under my Country Crossroads column.
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