My first recollection of country music was on the radio somewhere in New Brunswick, driving the two laners to Nova Scotia. Those were the only stations that came in, back in the pre tape deck day. Later trips we’d rocket up sans Dad and older siblings, but even when equipped with a cassette or CD player still we’d listen to those stations. The lyrics struck us as hilarious and we would sing along with gusto.
At some point during my adolescence, to my great surprise my mother, uncle Bud and aunt Ev took to country music in some earnest. Not to categorize musical tastes, but they would not have struck you as country music fans. It seemed to be a not-quite inside joke that I didn’t get, and I watched and listened bemused as they would tear into a few verses. “It’s Cryin’ Time Again” was a favorite.
Recently I find myself listening more and more to country. Granted this is not the country we heard in the 60’s and 70’s, white-knuckling it past tractor trailers in New Brunswick. Still. I wonder is it a marker in life, when you get to a certain point nothing much else will do but the stories, the tone, the guts of country music. And so many fantastic one-liners.
It has been a little quiet round the life I picked this past week. Like a turtle in danger, when stuff gets tough I may pull my head and appendages in (that’s metaphorical, don’t worry). Some writers write more when shit hits the fan, I write less. I have overcome that a bit but it is pretty much who I am, and I guess why I don’t have a huge body of work….
So as you might guess from the post title, some more tough stuff has come to call (link to a video of this classic here). Just when will that exhale come, if ever, crosses my mind. I like to joke that my life may not be easy, but it is never boring. This is true. But I am beginning to crave a little, just a little easy. Really, now.
Short-term remedies include stacking wood, a lot, and playing with the dogs. Maybe cooking but not so much. Spending a little time with a few people who don’t judge or pull me down. Teaching is a good distraction so long as I don’t feel on the edge of tears, ’cause then it gets tricky. My standby med, running. Find it hard to focus so not much reading happening, and meditating a challenge but I keep at it.
As the song says, the day that I stop counting, that’s the day my world will end, huh. Embrace the hurt and keep tallying, I guess is where we’re at. Git out the abacus.
My mother, uncle and aunt by marriage had all seen their share of tough moments in life, though they had been blessed in countless ways as well. Characters each with incredible senses of humor further honed by, you got it, the heartaches and the troubles. In dark moments I draw strength from them, and a few others who’ve gone before me. The rocky path that feels so lonely is likely pretty well worn, as it turns out. I mean, just listen to a few country songs, right?
[…] That would be Tom Petty talking. In a pretty good example of the semi sequitir paths of my mind, I think I leaped from Canaan Smith’s lyric “Love You Like That” (my country tracking lately, see above) […]