Jim Jones's Blog, page 8

NEVER LET THE FACTS GET IN THE WAY OF A GOOD STORY!

As a boy, I attended the East Texas Boy Scout Jamboree two years in a row.  I earned a bunch of merit badges and learned any number of valuable lessons.  Here is an important, though not necessarily intended, lesson I learned. 

That first year, several of us took a five mile hike in pursuit of the next highest rank.  Although it seemed like it was taking forever to make the trip, we were not unduly upset by this.  Along the way, we saw any number of wondrous sights.  It being East Texas, there’d been a lot of rain earlier in the summer.  As we came around a bend in the trail, we saw a small pond ahead.  On the far side of the pond, we saw a most astonishing sight…a cave!  None of us had ever even seen a cave before, let alone had the chance to explore one.  We raced up to the edge of the water.  Unfortunately, as we surveyed the scene, we saw that the pond was surrounded by barbed wire.  There was no way we could get to the cave unless we swam across the pond.  Reluctantly, we decided against this course of action.  We’d heard too many stories about water moccasins and didn’t want to have a chance encounter.  Wistfully, we went on our way.  Later that night around the campfire, we regaled the younger scouts with tales of what we’d seen.

The next year, I went back to the jamboree fully intending to explore that cave come hell (in the form of water moccasins) or high water (in the form of high water).  My compadres and I set out again on our grand trek.  It seemed to take even longer to get there this time around.  When we finally came around that same bend in the trail, our hearts were a’thumping as we strained to catch a glimpse of our cave.  It’d been a much drier summer and the pond had shrunk down to a small drainage ditch.  On the other side of the ditch, we saw our cave.  Sadly, it was not a cave at all.  It was a culvert; a drain pipe going underneath a road.  We were dumbfounded.  We KNEW we’d seen a cave in this spot last year.  Maybe we’d been in a parallel dimension in the universe?  Whatever the case, this time around we saw very clearly that there was no cave.  Needless to say, we regaled no one around the campfire that night with tales of our cave.

I don’t like liars and I am especially put off by the political practice known as “spin.”  I try to tell the truth as I know it and I expect the same from others.  That said, I must add that there is an entirely different set of rules when it comes to storytelling.  You NEVER let the facts get in the way of a good story.  How many times have you heard a cowboy poet say, “This really happened,” then proceed to tell a whopper you know for a fact didn’t happen?  Who cares, though, if the horse didn’t really sprout wings (Chris Isaacs)?  It makes a great story.  One of the greatest Western storytellers of all time, J. Frank Dobie, had this to say about storytelling.  “I am a teller of folk tales, and as a historian I have not hesitated to use scraps of folklore to enforce truth and reality.”  Well-said.

 One of my personal favorite storytellers was the late, great Texas songwriter, Steven Fromholz.  Although I loved his music, I probably could have just listened to him tell stories all night long.  His story of Aunt Minnie and the bear back in the Arkansas woods during World War I was one of the funniest things I’ve ever heard in my life.  I laughed until I cried every time I heard Steven tell it.  Every SINGLE time.  I also heard Fromholz tell some stories when he was off the stage that were probably even funnier than the ones he told on stage.  The man could spin a yarn.  We miss him.

Some of my favorite humor writers are storytellers.  Outdoorsman Pat McManus takes everyday events from our childhoods (first campout, first deer we shot, the size of the first…or for that matter, last…fish we caught) and makes the re-living of the experience even more fun than the living of it.  Great storytellers don’t focus so much on what actually happened, they home in on what should have happened in a perfect world.  They invite us to use our imagination…you remember the imagination…to create events that are memorably happy, poignant, or funny.  I love it when I read a Dave Barry story and I get to the part where he says, “if you know what I mean and I think you do!”  I always do.

This brings me full circle to where I started today.  In my mind’s eye, I still see that magical cave, just beyond reach, waiting to be explored.  What might we have found if we’d only been able to reach it…maybe treasure, maybe a dragon, maybe a sword in a stone?  We’ll never know for sure but we can always imagine.  Or we can go with the second version of the story…the drainage pipe.  I don’t know about you but I know which story I’M telling! 

Inclusion: a Western Tradition

Anyone who has seen the mini-series “Lonesome Dove” knows who Bose Ikard is. You just think his name was Josh Deets, the character played so masterfully by Danny Glover. As with much of Larry McMurtry’s story, the Deets character was based on events and people in the lives of legendary Texas ranchers Charles Goodnight and Oliver Loving. A slave when he came to Texas, Bose Ikard gained his freedom and sought employment. He first worked for Oliver Loving and when Loving died, he then went to work for Charles Goodnight. In their years together, Goodnight came to rely on him as his most trusted hand and friend. When Bose died, Goodnight had this inscribed on his headstone: “Bose Ikard served with me four years on the Goodnight-Loving Trail, never shirked a duty or disobeyed an order, rode with me in many stampedes, participated in three engagements with Comanches, splendid behavior.”
I don’t mean to sugarcoat the life of a black person in the Old West. Of course there was racism and many people behaved despicably towards Blacks. However, there was and continues to be a strong tradition that if a cowboy proves his worth through his actions, he is considered a good hand and thus deserves and receives respect. I’ve read that approximately a quarter of all the cowboys out West in the second half of the 19th century were Black or Hispanic. Names like Bill Pickett, Nat Love and Bass Reeves are renowned among students of the West.
Western inclusion in the 21st century has gotten a little trickier if you ask me. Many folks I know who live in the West are pretty conservative. If you ask them their views on homosexuality and gay marriage, race relations, immigration and other such issues, they can sound pretty inflexible. As you get to know them better however, you may find that it turns out they have a gay friend. If they live on the border, they may leave out bottles of water for illegal immigrants so they don’t die of thirst. In fact, if they live on the border, they most likely have work associates and even friends that are illegal. If you were to ask them about this, they would probably reply, “Oh, that’s different. I know him.”
I have two cowboy friends in particular with whom I’ve discussed this issue. They both are somewhat homophobic, a remnant of their upbringing in Texas in the 1950s. I know because I grew up there too. We were exposed to the taunting, ridicule and bullying of homosexuals on a fairly regular basis. It’s not something I’m proud of but it was definitely a part of the culture in which I grew up. Interestingly, I also know that both of my cowboy friends have had friends who are gay. On an individual basis, they are willing to take the time to get to know a person and decide if they “pass muster.” If they meet their criteria for what they’re looking for in a friend…loyalty, good sense of humor, someone you can count on…they will include them in their circle of friends. For them, good character trumps old prejudices.
Not long ago, I attended the wedding of the daughter of a friend down in southern New Mexico. The wedding took place on the ranch of the father of the groom. He is gay. He and his partner live and work on this ranch. They work cattle with their neighbors and break bread with them frequently as well. His partner grew up in the little town that they live near and has known many of the people all his life. If you took an opinion poll on the community’s views on homosexuality, the results might appear rather negative and intolerant. If so, you couldn’t tell it from the way this man’s neighbors interact with him. If you were to point out the disparity, they would probably be confused. They would just say, “I’ve know old so and so all his life. We’ve been friends since we went to school together.”
I know quite a few people who are absolutely NOT politically correct. The sometimes use words that I wish they wouldn’t use. The words are hurtful and offensive. I’ve seen these same people, however, interact with people whose lifestyle would normally be way outside their comfort zone and once they get to know them, they accept them and treat them with the utmost respect. Language matters and words can hurt. I’d really like to see a time when we get past these prejudices and people’s behavior is consistently tolerant across the board. In the meantime, if I’ve got to settle for half a loaf, I’m glad to see that a lot of folks I know really are able to get past labels and appearances and accept people in their totality.
It really is a Western tradition to take the time to get to know someone and take their measure before you pass judgment on them. People are evaluated on their work ethic, the way they treat their family and friends, their honesty and integrity and of course, their sense of humor. If they pass those tests, then they’re “someone to ride the river with.” Seems to me that’s a pretty good way to look at the world.

Inclusion: a Western Tradition

Anyone who has seen the mini-series “Lonesome Dove” knows who Bose Ikard is.  You just think his name was Josh Deets, the character played so masterfully by Danny Glover.   As with much of Larry McMurtry’s story, the Deets character was based on events and people in the lives of legendary Texas ranchers Charles Goodnight and Oliver Loving.  A slave when he came to Texas, Bose Ikard gained his freedom and sought employment.  He first worked for Oliver Loving and when Loving died, he then went to work for Charles Goodnight.  In their years together, Goodnight came to rely on him as his most trusted hand and friend.  When Bose died, Goodnight had this inscribed on his headstone: “Bose Ikard served with me four years on the Goodnight-Loving Trail, never shirked a duty or disobeyed an order, rode with me in many stampedes, participated in three engagements with Comanches, splendid behavior.”

I don’t mean to sugarcoat the life of a black person in the Old West.  Of course there was racism and many people behaved despicably towards Blacks.  However, there was and continues to be a strong tradition that if a cowboy proves his worth through his actions, he is considered a good hand and thus deserves and receives respect.  I’ve read that approximately a quarter of all the cowboys out West in the second half of the 19th century were Black or Hispanic.  Names like Bill Pickett, Nat Love and Bass Reeves are renowned among students of the West.

Western inclusion in the 21st century has gotten a little trickier if you ask me.  Many folks I know who live in the West are pretty conservative.  If you ask them their views on homosexuality and gay marriage, race relations, immigration and other such issues, they can sound pretty inflexible.  As you get to know them better however, you may find that it turns out they have a gay friend.  If they live on the border, they may leave out bottles of water for illegal immigrants so they don’t die of thirst.  In fact, if they live on the border, they most likely have work associates and even friends that are illegal.  If you were to ask them about this, they would probably reply, “Oh, that’s different.  I know him.”

I have two cowboy friends in particular with whom I’ve discussed this issue.  They both are somewhat homophobic, a remnant of their upbringing in Texas in the 1950s.  I know because I grew up there too.  We were exposed to the taunting, ridicule and bullying of homosexuals on a fairly regular basis.  It’s not something I’m proud of but it was definitely a part of the culture in which I grew up.  Interestingly, I also know that both of my cowboy friends have had friends who are gay.  On an individual basis, they are willing to take the time to get to know a person and decide if they “pass muster.”  If they meet their criteria for what they’re looking for in a friend…loyalty, good sense of humor, someone you can count on…they will include them in their circle of friends.  For them, good character trumps old prejudices. 

Not long ago, I attended the wedding of the daughter of a friend down in southern New Mexico.  The wedding took place on the ranch of the father of the groom.  He is gay.  He and his partner live and work on this ranch.  They work cattle with their neighbors and break bread with them frequently as well.  His partner grew up in the little town that they live near and has known many of the people all his life.  If you took an opinion poll on the community’s views on homosexuality, the results might appear rather negative and intolerant.  If so, you couldn’t tell it from the way this man’s neighbors interact with him.  If you were to point out the disparity, they would probably be confused.  They would just say, “I’ve know old so and so all his life.  We’ve been friends since we went to school together.”

I know quite a few people who are absolutely NOT politically correct.  The sometimes use words that I wish they wouldn’t use.  The words are hurtful and offensive.  I’ve seen these same people, however, interact with people whose lifestyle would normally be way outside their comfort zone and once they get to know them, they accept them and treat them with the utmost respect.  Language matters and words can hurt.  I’d really like to see a time when we get past these prejudices and people’s behavior is consistently tolerant across the board.  In the meantime, if I’ve got to settle for half a loaf, I’m glad to see that a lot of folks I know really are able to get past labels and appearances and accept people in their totality.

It really is a Western tradition to take the time to get to know someone and take their measure before you pass judgment on them.  People are evaluated on their work ethic, the way they treat their family and friends, their honesty and integrity and of course, their sense of humor.  If they pass those tests, then they’re “someone to ride the river with.”  Seems to me that’s a pretty good way to look at the world.      

A SERVANT’S HEART

Recently, I had a conversation with a great Austin singer/songwriter friend of mine, George Ensle. We were talking about how our approach to performing has evolved over the years and in particular, whether either of us experiences “stage fright” (performance anxiety) any more. Although we came at it from somewhat different directions, I was amazed at what a similar place we both ended up. Under our typical performance conditions (people have come to listen to the music we play), neither of us goes through much in the way of nerves. We’re generally relaxed and loose. While some of this comes with age and experience, of course, much of it is a result of how we look at performing. As such, it’s something other younger performers can learn about and benefit from. Keep in mind that we’re talking about situations in which people have come specifically to listen. There are other situations that are more complicated (performing for juried showcases and such) and which require a somewhat different approach.
It sort of goes without saying that in order to get up in front of people and perform…basically say, “Hey, look at me!”…you have to be more than a little bit narcissistic. Furthermore, as a professional entertainer, you have to promote yourself endlessly and tirelessly if you want to make a living. It’s really a setup for it to be all about you. No wonder some commercially successful young entertainers (not mentioning any names, Biebs) can go off the rails. You get that “enough about me, what do you think about me?” phenomenon. The irony is that even though it’s “all about me,” you become inordinately concerned with what everyone else thinks about you. This can set up a relationship dynamic with your audience in which you try desperately to control what they think about you and “make” them like you. Your anxiety about how successful you’re being through the course of your performance is a huge impediment to your succeeding in your goal.
How do you avoid this trap? The short answer is that you make it not about “you” but about “them”…your audience. It requires a good-size serving of humble pie. Guess what…you did absolutely nothing to come by your amazing musical talents. You’re not special, you’re just lucky. Rather than be full of yourself, you should be thankful that you are the recipient of this wonderful gift. Of course, if you’ve worked incredibly hard to develop those talents and skills you lucked into, you certainly have something to be proud of. Being proud of what you’ve accomplished, you might want to share it with others. The best reasons to share your gift with others are that it can lighten their load for at least a little while and enhance the quality of their life. It is your gift to them. When you give someone a gift, you want it to be the best gift possible, one that fits them and you want them to like it. The focus in not on you, it’s on the gift and your audience.
If you prepare professionally to perform, you can be confident that the gift you are sharing is a good one. The more confident you are, the less you have to worry about whether you’re doing a good job (“me, me, me”) and the more you can focus on your audience’s enjoyment and appreciation of the gift you’ve given them. In the two-way communication that goes on between entertainer and audience, they will get a clear sense that you are most interested in helping them to feel good and enjoy the performance you are giving to them. I promise you, there is an energy audiences give back to you when they sense this attitude from you and it is absolutely amazing. Collectively, you realize that you are all on the same side. It’s not just about you as the entertainer; it’s about what you are sharing together. That is music at its best. When you get that going, you realize there’s nothing to be nervous about. And the funny thing is, the more you’re focused on the enjoyment of your audience, the more they’ll like you and the more popular and successful you’ll become. Taking your focus off of you paradoxically helps you.
What about my buddy, George Ensle’s take on this? George’s approach stems from his Christian faith…he’s one of those joyous, loving, accepting Christians, not the look-down-your-nose, judgmental types. He came up with a phrase that describes how he approaches performing. He says he comes to each performance with a “servant’s heart.” I’d never heard the term before and was immediately struck by it. He sees every performance as an opportunity to serve others, to share his gifts and to do his best to help them enjoy themselves. It’s all about them. He is an extremely gifted singer, songwriter and guitarist with much to be proud of and yet he is an admirably humble man. He realizes how lucky he is and is delighted to share his good fortune with others. It’s hard to be nervous and afraid when you come to an audience with a servant’s heart.
Check out George’s music at www.georgeensle.com

A SERVANT’S HEART

Recently, I had a conversation with a great Austin singer/songwriter friend of mine, George Ensle.  We were talking about how our approach to performing has evolved over the years and in particular, whether either of us experiences “stage fright” (performance anxiety) any more.  Although we came at it from somewhat different directions, I was amazed at what a similar place we both ended up.  Under our typical performance conditions (people have come to listen to the music we play), neither of us goes through much in the way of nerves.  We’re generally relaxed and loose.  While some of this comes with age and experience, of course, much of it is a result of how we look at performing.  As such, it’s something other younger performers can learn about and benefit from.  Keep in mind that we’re talking about situations in which people have come specifically to listen.  There are other situations that are more complicated (performing for juried showcases and such) and which require a somewhat different approach.

It sort of goes without saying that in order to get up in front of people and perform…basically say, “Hey, look at me!”…you have to be more than a little bit narcissistic.  Furthermore, as a professional entertainer, you have to promote yourself endlessly and tirelessly if you want to make a living.  It’s really a setup for it to be all about you.  No wonder some commercially successful young entertainers (not mentioning any names, Biebs) can go off the rails.  You get that “enough about me, what do you think about me?” phenomenon.  The irony is that even though it’s “all about me,” you become inordinately concerned with what everyone else thinks about you.  This can set up a relationship dynamic with your audience in which you try desperately to control what they think about you and “make” them like you.  Your anxiety about how successful you’re being through the course of your performance is a huge impediment to your succeeding in your goal.

How do you avoid this trap?  The short answer is that you make it not about “you” but about “them”…your audience.  It requires a good-size serving of humble pie.  Guess what…you did absolutely nothing to come by your amazing musical talents.  You’re not special, you’re just lucky.  Rather than be full of yourself, you should be thankful that you are the recipient of this wonderful gift.  Of course, if you’ve worked incredibly hard to develop those talents and skills you lucked into, you certainly have something to be proud of.  Being proud of what you’ve accomplished, you might want to share it with others.  The best reasons to share your gift with others are that it can lighten their load for at least a little while and enhance the quality of their life.  It is your gift to them.  When you give someone a gift, you want it to be the best gift possible, one that fits them and you want them to like it.  The focus in not on you, it’s on the gift and your audience.

If you prepare professionally to perform, you can be confident that the gift you are sharing is a good one.  The more confident you are, the less you have to worry about whether you’re doing a good job (“me, me, me”) and the more you can focus on your audience’s enjoyment and appreciation of the gift you’ve given them.  In the two-way communication that goes on between entertainer and audience, they will get a clear sense that you are most interested in helping them to feel good and enjoy the performance you are giving to them.  I promise you, there is an energy audiences give back to you when they sense this attitude from you and it is absolutely amazing.  Collectively, you realize that you are all on the same side.  It’s not just about you as the entertainer; it’s about what you are sharing together.  That is music at its best.  When you get that going, you realize there’s nothing to be nervous about.  And the funny thing is, the more you’re focused on the enjoyment of your audience, the more they’ll like you and the more popular and successful you’ll become.  Taking your focus off of you paradoxically helps you.    

What about my buddy, George Ensle’s take on this?  George’s approach stems from his Christian faith…he’s one of those joyous, loving, accepting Christians, not the look-down-your-nose, judgmental types.  He came up with a phrase that describes how he approaches performing.  He says he comes to each performance with a “servant’s heart.”  I’d never heard the term before and was immediately struck by it.  He sees every performance as an opportunity to serve others, to share his gifts and to do his best to help them enjoy themselves.  It’s all about them.  He is an extremely gifted singer, songwriter and guitarist with much to be proud of and yet he is an admirably humble man.  He realizes how lucky he is and is delighted to share his good fortune with others.  It’s hard to be nervous and afraid when you come to an audience with a servant’s heart.

Check out George’s music at www.georgeensle.com    

OLD BLEVINS

My friend and fellow Western singer/songwriter, Rodger Maxwell, is a fine fella in spite of his baggage (he’s a native New Yorker, he lives in Los Angeles AND he’s a die-hard Yankee fan). He shared the song “Old Blevins” by the Austin Lounge Lizards with me and it got me to thinking. What if Old Blevins was a blogger??
I probably should back up and tell you about the song in case you’re not familiar with it. It’s a spoof on those great old country songs about a wise old fella giving advice to some young whippersnapper in a bar…think Tom T. Hall’s “Old Dogs, Children and Watermelon Wine,” or Vern Gosdin’s “Chiseled in Stone.” After hearing what the old guy has to say, the young guy comes to his senses and turns his life around. The song “Old Blevins” captures what it’s REALLY like when some old drunk geezer comes up to you in a bar, intrudes on your conversation or solitude (whichever you happen to be pursuing) and proceeds, unsolicited, to tell you how to live your life. The chorus of “Old Blevins” consists mostly of the lines:
“And he said Blah, blah, blah blah blah blah, blah blah, mistakes were made,
Blah, blah, blah blah blah blah, blah blah, how ‘bout them Cowboys!”
And on and on…and on and on and on and on!!
Did someone stick a sign on my back without my knowing that said “Tell me everything you think”? Recently, I was at a music event and some friends and I had completed our set on the patio of this restaurant/bar. We went inside to get a burger and beverage and visit. Over the years of playing in bars, I’ve developed a radar for these guys. It’s important not to make eye contact. Sometimes that works but if they’re really determined, they won’t be dissuaded. This guy was going to talk to me no matter what. He sidles up and says, “You from Albuquerque?”
I said, “Yes sir, I am.”
“My cousin lives in Albuquerque,” he said conspiratorially, “the south valley…rough place!”
Trying to find the balance between not being rude and communicating that I would prefer to visit with my friends, I responded, “My daughter-in-law’s family lives in the south valley. There’s some really pretty country down there.” I nodded pleasantly…but not TOO pleasantly…and turned away, signally that my part of the conversation was done. Right.
“Maybe you know my cousin,” he says hopefully.
Right. Being from Albuquerque, a city whose population exceeds half a million, I probably know his cousin. That’s a little less absurd than when someone hears that I’m from Texas and they say, “Maybe you know old so and so.” A little less absurd but still pretty doggone absurd. He tells me his cousin’s name. You guessed it…I don’t know him. What were the odds (half a million to one, actually)? I turn away a little more firmly this time and just ignore him, hoping he’ll go away. Sometimes this works on my dogs. Nope, he hovers around for another five minutes or so before he finally goes looking for greener pastures and other people to intrude upon.
Usually these people are male. Once, however, when I played with the Band of Enchantment at the wonderful roadhouse, the Mine Shaft, in Madrid, New Mexico, we had a female “old Blevins.” She would stand teetering unsteadily at the end of the bar closest to the band stand and right before we’d start a song, she’d holler out, “let her rip!” Sort of like Larry the Cable Guy’s “get her done,” only not funny. When we would break, she would come over and drunkenly try to converse with us. The drummer and I got pretty adept and sending her over to talk to our bass player. Bass players tend to be somewhat lonely so he would usually visit with her for awhile.
What makes some people think that complete strangers want to hear intimate details about their lives? Are they so lonely and desperate for connection that they ignore all conventional social cues and personal boundaries? Sadly, the answer is “yes.” Which brings me back to my original question…what if Old Blevins was a blogger? What makes those of us who blog think that what we have to say is so important that the world just can’t wait to read it? Are we so lonely and desperate for connection that we spew out 800 words a week, just certain that it will change the lives of everyone who reads it? Probably (and sadly), the answer is “yes.” Here’s our one redeeming quality though…you don’t have to click on our link! So I’d like to leave you with these final words: “Blah, blah, blah blah blah blah, blah blah, thanks for listening.”

OLD BLEVINS

My friend and fellow Western singer/songwriter, Rodger Maxwell, is a fine fella in spite of his baggage (he’s a native New Yorker, he lives in Los Angeles AND he’s a die-hard Yankee fan).  He shared the song “Old Blevins” by the Austin Lounge Lizards with me and it got me to thinking.  What if Old Blevins was a blogger?? 

I probably should back up and tell you about the song in case you’re not familiar with it.  It’s a spoof on those great old country songs about a wise old fella giving advice to some young whippersnapper in a bar…think Tom T. Hall’s “Old Dogs, Children and Watermelon Wine,” or Vern Gosdin’s “Chiseled in Stone.”  After hearing what the old guy has to say, the young guy comes to his senses and turns his life around.  The song “Old Blevins” captures what it’s REALLY like when some old drunk geezer comes up to you in a bar, intrudes on your conversation or solitude (whichever you happen to be pursuing) and proceeds, unsolicited, to tell you how to live your life.  The chorus of  “Old Blevins” consists mostly of the lines:

“And he said Blah, blah, blah blah blah blah, blah blah, mistakes were made,

Blah, blah, blah blah blah blah, blah blah, how ‘bout them Cowboys!”

And on and on…and on and on and on and on!!

Did someone stick a sign on my back without my knowing that said “Tell me everything you think”?  Recently, I was at a music event and some friends and I had completed our set on the patio of this restaurant/bar.  We went inside to get a burger and beverage and visit.  Over the years of playing in bars, I’ve developed a radar for these guys.  It’s important not to make eye contact.  Sometimes that works but if they’re really determined, they won’t be dissuaded.  This guy was going to talk to me no matter what.  He sidles up and says, “You from Albuquerque?”

I said, “Yes sir, I am.”

“My cousin lives in Albuquerque,” he said conspiratorially, “the south valley…rough place!” 

Trying to find the balance between not being rude and communicating that I would prefer to visit with my friends, I responded, “My daughter-in-law’s family lives in the south valley.  There’s some really pretty country down there.”  I nodded pleasantly…but not TOO pleasantly…and turned away, signally that my part of the conversation was done.  Right.

“Maybe you know my cousin,” he says hopefully.

Right.  Being from Albuquerque, a city whose population exceeds half a million, I probably know his cousin.  That’s a little less absurd than when someone hears that I’m from Texas and they say, “Maybe you know old so and so.”  A little less absurd but still pretty doggone absurd.  He tells me his cousin’s name.  You guessed it…I don’t know him.  What were the odds (half a million to one, actually)?  I turn away a little more firmly this time and just ignore him, hoping he’ll go away.  Sometimes this works on my dogs.  Nope, he hovers around for another five minutes or so before he finally goes looking for greener pastures and other people to intrude upon.

Usually these people are male.  Once, however, when I played with the Band of Enchantment at the wonderful roadhouse, the Mine Shaft, in Madrid, New Mexico, we had a female “old Blevins.”  She would stand teetering unsteadily at the end of the bar closest to the band stand and right before we’d start a song, she’d holler out, “let her rip!”  Sort of like Larry the Cable Guy’s “get her done,” only not funny.  When we would break, she would come over and drunkenly try to converse with us.  The drummer and I got pretty adept and sending her over to talk to our bass player.   Bass players tend to be somewhat lonely so he would usually visit with her for awhile.  

What makes some people think that complete strangers want to hear intimate details about their lives?  Are they so lonely and desperate for connection that they ignore all conventional social cues and personal boundaries?  Sadly, the answer is “yes.”  Which brings me back to my original question…what if Old Blevins was a blogger?  What makes those of us who blog think that what we have to say is so important that the world just can’t wait to read it?  Are we so lonely and desperate for connection that we spew out 800 words a week, just certain that it will change the lives of everyone who reads it?  Probably (and sadly), the answer is “yes.”  Here’s our one redeeming quality though…you don’t have to click on our link!  So I’d like to leave you with these final words: “Blah, blah, blah blah blah blah, blah blah, thanks for listening.”     

10 posts! Who knew I had that much to say?? Okay, my wife...

10 posts!  Who knew I had that much to say??  Okay, my wife knew…and she didn’t say it was worth reading, just that I had that much to say.  

HUMOR: DRY VS. WET

A while back, I was soliciting blog ideas from my Facebook community and I got this suggestion from a friend. “I will look forward to your dry humor - or wet humor if that works better for you.” I laughed and responded with “I always think my wet humor is hilarious…until I’m dry again.” Upon reflection, it occurred to me that this might be a worthwhile topic to address. The biggest challenge was to try to write about it in a thoughtful manner without sounding preachy. I can’t stand other people preaching to me and I sure don’t want to preach to anybody else. Here goes.
For most of my life, I’ve been a part of the Musician’s Culture and more recently, I’ve been very involved in the Cowboy Culture as well. If there are any other identifiable cultures that drink more than those two, I sure don’t want to meet up with them. There’s a line in a Tom Russell song that says “And if we drink ourselves to death, ain’t that the cowboy way to go.” The same could be said for the “musician’s way to go.”
In the 80s, I played in a pub in Dallas. People often expressed their appreciation for your talent by buying you a drink. One night, I looked back at my amplifier at the end of the evening and counted seven beers and five shots of whiskey sitting there. It occurred to me that if I drank them all, I would probably die of alcohol poisoning. Fortunately, I chose not to drink all of them…but I certainly drank some of them. When I look back on that time, I think it’s a wonder than I didn’t kill myself or even worse, some innocent bystander, as I so often drove home in an inebriated state.
Years later, my friend and bandmate from that time, Roy Lyle, said to me, “Jim, you know you don’t have to drink every shot that people buy you.” I said, “Really? What do you do?” He told me that all those years, when someone bought us shots, he would put the glass to his lips as we drank our toast, take a tiny sip and then set it on his amp. Later, he would quickly pour it out behind the amp. I was astounded. It had never occurred to me that you could do that. It also explained the mildew on the stage carpet behind his amp.
A good cowboy friend of mine has a brother who is a bonafide alcoholic. He told me that he once asked his brother if he thought he could just drink one beer and stop. For a moment, his brother seemed puzzled. Then he responded, “Why in the world would I do that?” He started out as a teenager going out with his cowboy friends and seeing who could drink the most. The “winner” was considered the best cowboy and the best man. What started as teenage hijinks developed into a habitual pattern that lead to full-fledged alcoholism. Would he have gone down that path anyway? I don’t know but the cowboy culture sure greased the wheels.
My paternal grandfather was a serious alcoholic who died from cirrhosis of the liver. He abandoned my grandmother and their three sons during the Great Depression, which left lasting emotional scars on my father and his two brothers. To his credit, my father was always careful about his drinking and served as a good example for me once I developed the good sense to pay attention. However, it’s a legacy that some think is carried in the genes and I’ve tried to make it clear to my children that they need to be aware of it. In a song I wrote in memory of my grandfather, “Whiskeytown,” I said:
“My Mama loved her cowboy once when he was young and strong
But his heart and soul are shriveled now and I guess that love is gone
Sometimes my Mama stares at me, her eyes afire with pain
Cause she knows how the bloodlines go and what flows in my veins
She's scared for what the future holds, what goes and comes around
She dreads the day she hears me say I'm bound for Whiskeytown”

At this point in my life, I’m able to drink socially without going nuts. My friends in the musician’s world and the cowboy world generally respect that and don’t pressure me to prove my manhood by drinking to excess. Unfortunately, I think that kind of thing still goes on all the time with younger people, not only in the world of cowboys and musicians but also on most college campuses. As I said above, I don’t want to preach at anyone but I do want to encourage all of us to stop and think about the messages we send to our children. You can be a man (or woman), a good musician and a good cowboy without proving it by drinking everyone else…and yourself…under the table. Really.

HUMOR: DRY VS. WET

A while back, I was soliciting blog ideas from my Facebook community and I got this suggestion from a friend.  “I will look forward to your dry humor - or wet humor if that works better for you.”  I laughed and responded with “I always think my wet humor is hilarious…until I’m dry again.”  Upon reflection, it occurred to me that this might be a worthwhile topic to address.  The biggest challenge was to try to write about it in a thoughtful manner without sounding preachy.  I can’t stand other people preaching to me and I sure don’t want to preach to anybody else.  Here goes.

For most of my life, I’ve been a part of the Musician’s Culture and more recently, I’ve been very involved in the Cowboy Culture as well.  If there are any other identifiable cultures that drink more than those two, I sure don’t want to meet up with them.  There’s a line in a Tom Russell song that says “And if we drink ourselves to death, ain’t that the cowboy way to go.”  The same could be said for the “musician’s way to go.” 

In the 80s, I played in a pub in Dallas.  People often expressed their appreciation for your talent by buying you a drink.  One night, I looked back at my amplifier at the end of the evening and counted seven beers and five shots of whiskey sitting there.  It occurred to me that if I drank them all, I would probably die of alcohol poisoning.  Fortunately, I chose not to drink all of them…but I certainly drank some of them.  When I look back on that time, I think it’s a wonder than I didn’t kill myself or even worse, some innocent bystander, as I so often drove home in an inebriated state.

Years later, my friend and bandmate from that time, Roy Lyle, said to me, “Jim, you know you don’t have to drink every shot that people buy you.”   I said, “Really?  What do you do?”  He told me that all those years, when someone bought us shots, he would put the glass to his lips as we drank our toast, take a tiny sip and then set it on his amp.  Later, he would quickly pour it out behind the amp.  I was astounded.  It had never occurred to me that you could do that.  It also explained the mildew on the stage carpet behind his amp. 

A good cowboy friend of mine has a brother who is a bonafide alcoholic.  He told me that he once asked his brother if he thought he could just drink one beer and stop.  For a moment, his brother seemed puzzled.  Then he responded, “Why in the world would I do that?”  He started out as a teenager going out with his cowboy friends and seeing who could drink the most.  The “winner” was considered the best cowboy and the best man.  What started as teenage hijinks developed into a habitual pattern that lead to full-fledged alcoholism.  Would he have gone down that path anyway?  I don’t know but the cowboy culture sure greased the wheels.

My paternal grandfather was a serious alcoholic who died from cirrhosis of the liver.  He abandoned my grandmother and their three sons during the Great Depression, which left lasting emotional scars on my father and his two brothers.  To his credit, my father was always careful about his drinking and served as a good example for me once I developed the good sense to pay attention.  However, it’s a legacy that some think is carried in the genes and I’ve tried to make it clear to my children that they need to be aware of it.  In a song I wrote in memory of my grandfather, “Whiskeytown,” I said:

“My Mama loved her cowboy once when he was young and strong

But his heart and soul are shriveled now and I guess that love is gone

Sometimes my Mama stares at me, her eyes afire with pain

Cause she knows how the bloodlines go and what flows in my veins

She’s scared for what the future holds, what goes and comes around

She dreads the day she hears me say I’m bound for Whiskeytown”

At this point in my life, I’m able to drink socially without going nuts.  My friends in the musician’s world and the cowboy world generally respect that and don’t pressure me to prove my manhood by drinking to excess.  Unfortunately, I think that kind of thing still goes on all the time with younger people, not only in the world of cowboys and musicians but also on most college campuses.  As I said above, I don’t want to preach at anyone but I do want to encourage all of us to stop and think about the messages we send to our children.  You can be a man (or woman), a good musician and a good cowboy without proving it by drinking everyone else…and yourself…under the table.  Really.