Clinton, South Carolina, Sunday, June 4, 2017, 10:13 a.m. Age is mathematical. If I heard someone say that on TV, I would make fun of it. Duh. The appropriate response from the imaginary person on TV? D’oh! Of course. I just got through watching a CBS This Morning piece on Norman Lear, Carl Reiner and …
Tag: freedom
I’ve Still Got My Guitar and the Red Sox Going for Me
Clinton, South Carolina, Wednesday, May 17, 2017, 8:54 a.m. Middle of the week. Last night traded one kind of music for another. A trip to Charlotte to see my favorite band, Reckless Kelly, fell through, but I visited my nephew’s lovely children – held them, made faces, sound effects, tossed the older lightly in the …
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Invent the Track if You Must
Clinton, South Carolina, Friday, April 7, 2017, 9:45 a.m. A new novel’s out. It’s the one readers have been suggesting – hint, hint – I write for years. I’m hardheaded. I had to wait until it struck my fancy. It takes a story to write a novel, and it’s too damned hard to write one …
A Confederacy of Trumpets
Clinton, South Carolina, Friday, February 17, 2017, 11:15 a.m. I’m tired, and I think it’s President Trump’s fault. I should exercise, but, first, I need to be exorcised of President Trump. It requires too much exertion. It is an altogether futile assertion. I don’t like the man, nor his policies, but he makes ideology irrelevant. …
You Can Hear the Music Burning Down Copperhead Road
Clinton, South Carolina, Monday, January 30, 2017, 6:59 p.m. It was about ten years ago, at Robert’s Western World in Nashville, where I was working on a chapter of a book called True to the Roots: Americana Music Revealed, and the subject of the chapter was Jesse Lee Jones, who owned Robert’s. I was sitting …
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Things Could Be Worse, but It Takes Imagination
Clinton, South Carolina, Monday, January 16, 2017, 9:52 a.m. On Martin Luther King Jr. Day, I write. On Inauguration Day, I shall write. Other than that, the bookends of the weekdays have nothing in common. Writing must be the tie that binds. Writing must be the salvation of sanity. I must find comfort in writing. …
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The Old Snow Days Just Ain’t What They Used to Be
Clinton, South Carolina, Saturday, January 7, 2017, 10:28 a.m. The snow hasn’t completely covered the grass I probably should have cut one more time before it stopped growing. It fell in hits and misses, and here it mainly swung and missed. It’s fallen in greater amounts most everywhere else, and TV tells me that one …
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Not a Fond Farewell but a Farewell, Just the Same
Clinton, South Carolina, Saturday, December 31, 2016, 10:54 a.m. It’s the final day of 2016. The year will soon be tucked snugly in bed, and all the Trump partisans will have sugarplums dancing in their heads, that is, if they can get to sleep amid all the fireworks. That’s my metaphor for Year of Our …
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The Lines Are Open
Clinton, South Carolina, Thursday, December 29, 2016, 12:02 p.m. I got nothing. This sentiment is all too familiar, as what few veteran readers there are of this space realize. It’s entirely possible that a few veteran readers have fallen by the wayside because of this troubling pattern of wandering blogs. As I have heard is …
It Happens Every Winter
As I don’t have a heap of money – and it’s been a while – a limited number has constituted the recipients of my Christmas gifts this year. Therefore, I feel obliged at this time to do something modest to express my appreciation for what you’ve done for me this year. No telling how many …
Nightrider's Lament 