i knew about Waylon a good while before i went to Texas A&M NROTC (1975) in part so my wife could get her college degree from where her father and uncle attended. We were separated within a year, divorced in three. Going through that for nearly four years was a good time to get into Western Swing and the Outlaws. And being essentially single in College Station, Texas fit well with all things country and line dancing. So i knew about Waylon, and of course Willie before, but there, i almost felt like Waylon and i knew each other.

Good music. Good times for a single lieutenant commander…well, it was ole Charlie Dickens again: “The best of times and the worst of times.”

But i listened to Waylon’s lyrics and connected.

*     *     *

It sometimes amazes me  what i can think about. In fact, it sometimes amazes me i can think at all with all of the wild stuff going around me (since i created most of it). But in between the book (yeh, i’m going to hit it again with a vengeance tomorrow, took almost a month off, but it’s time to get it done), the trellis, the other home projects, the garage organization, the paper cleaning out, the computer files, and remembering or forgetting passwords, i think a lot. i think a lot of it is not what normal people think about.

i mean like thinking about what happens when i’m gone. This thought can take many different directions, but i keep coming back to how to handle my passing. You know, like gone, dead.

Now when i’ve told people my parents lived to just shy of 99 and just shy of 97,  folks have pointed out i have good genes and am likely to live a long time. My response is i’ve lived thus far a lot harder and wilder than they did so i don’t expect to live that long. i’ll take what i can get, but hey, i could be gone tomorrow.

At my age, that would be fine. i often think about what two men i admired and respected told me. My father-in-law, as he was dealing with the cancer that would eventually take him down told me he wanted to live as long as he could think straight. My father told me something i tried to capture in a poem when he said he had lived a good life, had a great wife, good kids, and great grandkids and the only thing he hoped for was to “go quick.” He did.

i agree with both of them.

*     *     *

One of my goals is to leave little for those who have to deal with my passing as little as possible in decision making. i’ve already worked out what will happen to what will be left of me. i’ll be going home. My ashes will be buried next to my parents. That’s where i belong. Home is the sailor from the sea.

Maureen and i have a living trust to take care of the finances. i am working on a list of my things and who should get them if they want. i’m identifying stuff that should be tossed. i have a draft of my obituary.

i don’t hanker for a service or a memorial. i’ll be gone and whatever impact i’ve had on other people good or bad is with them. i won’t be around for any plaudits so whatever happens happens.

But if someone decides they need to have some kind of memorial or whatever, i am making a playlist of songs i would like to be included. Some of them are just my favorites. Others are not only my favorites but also resound with me in describing me, my relationships with some people for whom i care, or reflect the way i think. Mose Allison has several songs in this latter bunch.

And there is one i think is a perfect description of me and my life. i first heard it when i bought one of Waylon Jennings’ albums because i liked the name of the title song.

i decided i would like to give you a preview of the first song on my playlist for an event that may or may not ever happen:

https://youtu.be/5VO6bI-xrj8

This one is a bit off color but it remains one of my favorite moments with Maureen.

Someone had told me this joke. It was a great joke:

There’s this guy who walks into a bar and sits down, putting his large satchel on the bar. He orders a martini, and begins a discussion with the bartender.

“Say, pal,” asked the bartender, “What have you got in that satchel?”

Silently, the guy reaches into the satchel and pulls out a tiny piano and equally small piano bench and sets them on the bar. Then, he reaches in the satchel again, and pulls out this very small, very alive man about a foot high. The man sits down at the piano and begins to play exquisite music, so beautiful the bartender was incredulous.

“Wow,” exclaims the amazed bartender, “How did you find this guy? This is incredible!”

The guy says, “Well, I was walking on the beach, and i found this old brass lamp sticking out of the sand. Having heard of such stories, I rubbed the lamp and made a wish. Voila, this is what i got.”

“That’s absolutely amazing,” the bartender exclaimed, and then asked, “Do you still have the lamp?’

“Yeh, sure,” the guy replied, “It’s right here,” reaching into the satchel again and pulling out the lamp.”

The bartender takes the lamp, goes into the corner, and rubs the lamp. The guy knows he’s making a wish. When he finishes, the bartender gives the lamp back to the guy, and then goes outside. In a few minutes, he returns, shaking his head.

“What’s wrong?” asked the guy.

“i just don’t understand,” the bartender exclaims dejectedly, “i walked outside and the sky is full of ducks, millions of ducks.

“When i rubbed the lamp, i wished for a million bucks. Then i go outside. There’s no money but all of these ducks.”

The guy shakes his head knowingly and explains, “Do you think i wished for a twelve-inch pianist?”

Good joke, right? Well, Maureen loved it. Now, i don’t know if you have heard Maureen laugh uncontrollably, but that laugh is so good i have friends who plot to tell Maureen jokes to elicit her laugh. When i told her this joke, she hit that laugh for about five minutes. It was delightful, fun, and made me laugh as well.

She liked the joke so well when we were going out to dinner with our friends Sharon and Jim Hileman, Maureen had me repeat it so she could tell the Hileman’s. i complied.

After ordering our meals, Maureen began telling the joke. She was laughing, thinking of the ending. Jim and Sharon were leaning forward. They knew this was going to be good.

Then Maureen got to the punch line. She was excited. The Hileman’s were waiting in anticipation. i was already chuckling. So instead of saying, “Do you think i wished for a twelve-inch pianist?” Maureen blurts out:

“Do you think i wished for a twelve-inch piano player?”

The Hileman’s were beyond perplexed. They looked a Maureen completely puzzled. i was already on the floor laughing. Maureen is confused as to why the Hileman’s weren’t into hysterics.

i explained, “Twelve-inch pianist.”

Maureen realized her mistake and began her laugh. The four of us laughed through the entire meal, and even now, about ten years later, we still laugh at the mention of THE JOKE.

She would have been 98 today.

She was a mother who never had a child just like he was a father who also never had a child. So they adopted all of us, and all of us knew they were our second mother and father.

She was unique. Later, she would get the magazines with special deals and buy things for us, some useful, some funny for birthday and Christmas presents.

i have a hard time throwing things away, especially when they are a reminder of people or events important in my life. i keep one of her gifts, a glasses holder on my bedside table. When i put my glasses in there at night or take them out in the morning, i always think of her.

i cannot express how much i loved her. She was my aunt, Bettye Kate Hall. i loved him the same. He was my uncle, Snooks Hall.

They were very special people.

*     *     *

Sometimes, small things catch my interest. When we landscaped our home in 1993, we planted two Mexican coral trees in the backyard along with a carrotwood tree. The carrotwood became huge. Its roots destroyed the stuccoed planter in which it was planted and was threatening the sitting area we had constructed in the south corner. Its branches loomed over the nearby coral tree, cutting out the coral tree’s access to the sunlight.

Last year, we finally had it cut down. More landscaping is in progress. But this morning when i went out to check on our strawberries, tomatoes, and Maureen’s herbs in the garden planter boxes, i stopped to look at the two remaining trees (there is a magnolia tree between them). The one near where the carrotwood had been fought for sun and grew accordingly. Maureen does not like the ill-formed shape, especially when it drops its leaves for the winter. i find it…inspiring i guess is the best word for my feelings. Cool tree, a survivor:

*     *     *

If you don’t know already, i am a huge Vanderbilt sports fan. There are other college teams i like, and i try to remember to not dislike other teams. i usually do that pretty well.

i sort of lost that perspective last night when the Louisville pitcher, Luke Smith, pitching superbly, lost control of his emotions and said some things you could clearly understand from reading his lips. i thought it was inappropriate and got a little upset he was not removed from the game. i mean, i say the words Smith yelled all the time, after all, i was in the Navy.

Then, the Vandy Boys made me proud and a little bit more humble. You see, they ignored the profane taunts except maybe for motivation and took Smith to task in the last inning, eventually winning the game and gaining a berth in the College World Series championship final games. Then when the game was over and the interviews began, the Commodores taught me a lesson.

Pat DeMarco, the centerfielder explained, “We try not to give energy to the other team. We know how that works. So we just tried to re-center ourselves, come back and focus the energy on us, and we came out on the right side.”

Julian Infante, the first baseman who received the tirade from Smith, when asked about what happened, replied, “”I’d rather not speak in those kind of terms. Things work out the way they work out. Sometimes you talk and things happen, and sometimes you don’t need to talk and things happen.”

i am happy Vanderbilt is in the CWS finals three times in the last six years. i am glad Coach Tim Corbin gains success with an emphasis on education and overall development of his players into men to be respected.

But i am proud, real proud of the team, for handling a potentially inflaming incident the right way.

The Vandy athletic catchwords are “Anchor Down.” Having spent some time at sea, i prefer “Anchor Aweigh.”

The Vandy Boys are underway, sailing fast, and most importantly, doing it right.

*     *     *

i think i better get started on that trellis.