For as long as I can remember, there have been constants in Country Music. The shrill sounds of Hank Williams, smooth serenades from Jim Reeves, stories spun from the mouth's of masters, and the "Thin Man from West Plains," Porter Wagoner.
Porter died last night in a Nashville hospice from lung cancer. I met him one time - here in Springfield. His music was simple, filled with death and lyrical twists that sometimes made you sit back, suck in some air, and explain; "Really!"
He had many fans here, in his hometown of West Plains, and newer fans still, after this year's release of "Wagonmaster" which was a work of love by Marty Stewart, and lauded by many as a comeback album. Porter received great recognition and critical acclaim from it - possibly some of his best work came at the end. I wish I would have interviewed him.
A dream partially died today.
For the past few months, I've been working to prove to my superiors that I'm worthy of a promotion. The job came open, I ran as hard as I could, and today, I was told that I did not get it, someone from outside the company was being brought in.
I am thankful that I still have a job, and for everything that I have been blessed with.
Monday, will be better.
Have you ever wondered what people see when they look at you? What are those first thoughts that cross their minds when you round a corner in the hallway, or when you come up in conversation among your circle of friends? Are you afraid to let them see the "real you" and because of that, you hide behind a mask?
I do.
Last night, I was drawing water in the sink for a nice hot shave - one of the few treats I give myself from time to time. As the sink finished filling, I started looking at myself through the steam, and I was not pleased. Oh, I appear to be a nice enough guy, a little "grizzled" around the edges, much heavier than I think I should be. Where did those lines come from? Look at that gray...even white hairs starting to appear. My eyes though, bothered me the most. Blank, soul-less, no twinkle.
Why can't I show the inner soul to the outside world? The heart is there, the care is there, helping others is there, but it's stone faced, sometimes with a smile, sometimes not. Have I become THAT jaded? Have I lost it? Am I turning the corner from being in idealist into an apathetic jerk? Hmmm...lots to think about and decide. Why should I be afraid to show the soul? After all, we'll all be dead in a hundred years, what will it matter then? What matters is what I do now, while I have the opportunity.
As the water swirled down the drain, I thought to myself..." that's one of the best shaves I've ever had."
