Disclaimer: This week I told my students about my desire to throw the nearest inanimate object I can find in disgust when I discover a typo on these pages. I do not have a spell check mechanism on this page, by choice. Just walked more than five miles and am in a hurry to write this. I apologize if there is a blatant faux pas.
Twenty-three years ago today, my dear wife, Carrie, and I had a dilema. Well, I had a dilema. And we settled on Merle. You can tell by the purchase date on the tickets.
Imagine, on the same day, Merle Haggard is playing at The Ryman Auditorium in Nashville and The Moody Blues are playing at Freedom Hall during the Kenucky State Fair. We had tickets to see Merle when much later we learn of The Moodies’ Louisville date.
We decided on Merle. Who can turn down Merle Haggard at The Ryman? Maybe me.
Still, it was the right thing to do. Carrie was really wanting to hear him and so was I. Less than two weeks before the concert, we got word that Merle’s show had been cancelled. Our money was refunded. I did have a chance to eventually see Merle with my dear friend Kelly Samons at the Little Nashville Opry in Nashville, Indiana. Merle was as great as I expected. He’d turn around yell out a song title to his band, hit a chord on that Telecaster, and we were transcended to another place, another story, another dimension that only those rare legends can take you.
As fate would have it, when we purchased tickets for The Moody Blues’ show at Freedom Hall eleven days before it was scheduled, we found ourselves sitting on the fourth row at center stage. Oh those good old state fair concerts that were $20 bucks.
The Moodies’ return to Freedom Hall was twenty-six years in the making. They had last played there in 1973. My friend Dan Goins was there. I was not. I was five.
The day of concert 1999, were from three days removed from the release of The Moody Blues’ new album Strange Times. At the time, The Moodies were on a tour that featured them playing with orchestras at nearly all the venues they were to visit. Not so for the Freedom Hall show. There was no orchestra constraint that night. They turned loose and rocked the house.
Though it is raining as I type these words, I did get in more than five miles on a hearty walk earlier today.
I am convinced there is a humidity on a lane between two soybean fields that can only be realized if you walking there. There is a sensation that includes feeling like the back of one’s neck is being grabbed. Something like that.
BIG SHOUT OUT TO THE NORTH HARRISON COUGAR FOOTBALL TEAM for defeating the Salem Lions last night 40-7. When the rain subsides, I am heading over to show the game footage to my Dad. He will love the way the offensive line of North pushed around the boys on Homer Street.
Next week the Cougars will be hosting Scottsburg. It should be a good one.
I don’t usually quote someone withour permission. I suppose Barry Hall, pictured with my Dad above on what was one of the last days old Blevins Memorial Stadium was standing at Brownstown Central, can chew me later.
Barry sent me text this morning. I will paraphrase. Barry was at a funeral home in Brownstown where Tom Weaver’s death arrangements were being handled. Tom Weaver was a good guy. Ironically, the last time my Dad and I saw him was at the funeral of Barry’s mother. At the funeral home recently, Barry ran into another old player from the early to mid-seventies. He name is Grant. Grant told Barry stories about my Dad and his teammate, Tom. Barry wanted me to know how Grant appreciated my Dad coaching him. Barry said their is still a great deal of love and respect out there for my Dad.
Thank you, Barry Hall. I know you guys had a good time at BC in those days. I am just glad I was able to watch and learn as a youngster. I watched you guys with great interest and admiration. Never dreamed we would be here talking about it now.
Not a bad way or place to spend a childhood.
Speaking the rights…
Danny Johnson