Saaaaaaaaaaa-lute

RIP
Buck Owens
12 august 1929 - 25 march 2006



i remember buck owens from as far back as i remember. my dad loved to watch "hee-haw", and buck was still putting out hits in the 70's. i guess the song i most identified with him was "streets of bakersfield."

when i was 21, a friend and i went to california for a week. we finished the week by visiting kim and jeannie jensen, who were living in bakersfield. after dinner, everyone went to sleep while i stayed up alone. i put on my walkman and went out into the night for the proverbial walk. in retrospect, it was really quite uneventful and anti-climactic; but, nevertheless, i had done what i had set out to do. i don't know what it is in me that creates this desire to do these kind of pilgrimage-type activities. for some reason, these kind of things keep popping up in my vacations...both realized and anticipated.

some years later, dwight yoakam coaxed buck out of his self-imposed banishment long enough to record a new version of "streets of bakersfield." it was fantastic. not only did it join the talents of two of my favorite singers, it was different. dwight and buck had added accordions and a cumbia drum beat to turn this bakersfield twang into a semi-tejano-sounding amalgam. i loved it. buck became relevant once more, and all was well.

a couple of years ago, i put together a cd containing alot of buck's best music. the biggest motivator was my own desire to have his music constantly ready for use. i have to admit that the other reason was so that i could introduce his music into the consciousness of my son. he had already rejected sinatra, so i figured i would try to lead him to my second favorite musician. if you can't brainwash your own son, what's the point of being smarter than he?

as it turns out, jackson loves buck owens and the buckaroos. we sing along together, and laugh at buck's silly songs. j's favorite is "cigareets, whisky, and wild, wild women." early in his buck-listening career, we were all riding in the car together, while listening to buck's greatest. after the previous two stories, it should be obvious that we were listening to "streets of bakersfield." just as buck tells us that he's "spent a thousand miles a thumbin' ," jackson popped his own thumb out of its customary place in his mouth, and declared, " hey! just like me!" in that moment, the circular nature of the universe opened a bit in my eyes. way to go, buck. thanks man. we will miss you.

tradition, your mama! tradition!

we just got home from a week's trip to walt disney world. i do mean "just" - as in 30 minutes ago. after so many months of writing on this thing, i can't believe i have yet to write about this obsession of ours. i'll have to remedy that at a later date.

for some reason, a trip to walt disney world results in my bringing home -essentially- the same souvenir: books.

the first year we went, i bought a beautiful 400-page sinatra biography written by frank's daughter, nancy. yes, she is the one with the laughing face. what it lacked in objectivity (alot), it gained in access (total.) i still love that book. and for 50 bucks it had better be prepared to be loved long time.

well, today i came home with the 30th anniversary edition of "the princess bride." i've seen it 100 times, but never read it. thank you epcot uk. my other acquisition is "ghosts of tsavo" by philip caputo. any self-respecting cast member in the harambe village of animal kingdom will know that these man-eating lions were the focus of the movie "the ghost and the darkness."

i still have yet to begin the crazy horse biography i picked up at wdw in december.

it's a strange tradition, but maybe no stranger than the next.

"ingredients for life", my butt!

right now i have a problem with randalls. what in the world is wrong with this place?

when i need groceries, i choose heb to fulfill my shopping needs. convenience, semi-consistent marketing structure, and "low price champion" are all i'm looking for in a grocer. heb fills these criteria quite sufficiently. plus they are a texas-owned company.

today, i experienced my latest (and last) excursion to randalls. charlotte was in need of some items for her office, and i volunteered to go to randalls for her as randalls is just across the street. when i located the two items for which i was seeking, i noticed that they were overpriced in the way that one would expect to find in post-communist russia. then to really, tick me off; they offer a "remarkable" price for the people who shop in the store often enough to register with the randalls bureaucracy in order to receive a western-hemisphere-style price point (point in fact: the "remarkable price" was only remarkable in that it was super-inflated when compared to heb's prices for the same product.)

this is -in my opinion- a load of crap. look, you have a product; i need a product; just let me buy the thing without you gouging me all the way down lamar boulevard.

farewell, randalls. i hardly knew ye.

go back to houston

this past saturday was jackson's birthday party. it was an extremely full day for him, as he had a glow-bowl birthday party in the morning followed by a basketball game and trophy presentation in the early afternoon. a tradition has arisen wherein we have an extended-family gathering at the salt lick every year on the date of jackson's party. obviously we go to the real salt lick...not that poser wannabe version in westlake.

i think i have been going to the salt lick for as long as i have been alive. even though we lived in colorado for several years when i was a little kid, we were in driftwood every summer with barbecue sauce dripping down our chins and wrists. the reunion was what brought us to town every year, so we wouldn't even bother wiping the sauce off of our bodies; we would just run across the road and jump in onion creek. can you remember when onion creek was filled with water?

in those days, the salt lick was only open friday, saturday, and sunday. there were usually not very many people in the restaurant, and i can remember playing tag in the main dining hall with my siblings and cousins without causing much of a disturbance. there was only one building out there (unless you count the eyesore that is now thurman's mansion; but, it was not used in any way.) if you ordered a coke, it was served in a glass bottle. there were no refills, there were only additional purchases. just like today, the water tasted like it was drawn from the bottom of the creek in a bucket.

before the space inside the building became a premium, there would often be a fire in the fireplace on a cold night. maybe they still do that, but i haven't seen one in about 10 years. they used to hire a musician to play the guitar and sing right in the main room. he/she set up right in front of the fireplace. i used to really like to go out there on a winter's night. now they have some barefoot jimmy buffet wannabe warbling and fumbling out in the gravelled waiting area.

on one of our first dates, charlotte took me out there because she found out how much i loved the place. since she was "taking me" i didn't even think to bring any money. after our meal, i answered in the affirmative when our server asked if we wanted some cobbler. little did i know that charlotte only had 20 dollars, and she was sweating it out. they still don't take cards or checks; and back then, they didn't even have an atm. when our check came, the total was about 23 dollars. this is when she let me in on her little secret. i calmly perused our check just to ensure that it was correct, while charlotte sweated out enough bullets for the both of us. i discovered that the waitress had given us the wrong ticket, and our total was only $18.50. i can't believe it was ever possible to get out of there for less than 20 bucks. good luck with that today.

one of my favorite things that i've seen out there was the time we walked out of the restaurant to find a little boy with his pants and briefs down around his ankles while he was adjusting the ph levels in the fish pond. that is classic driftwood.

we have always preferred to sit on the patio of the old building. in fact, when we are in a small group, we will let others pass us on the wait list until we get the table we want. in the old building; the smell of the pit is overwhelming; you can easily see the effects of 37 years of smoke finding its way onto the surface of limestone; and the residue of decades of barbecue sauce, cobbler juice, beans, smoke, and spilled coke have created a glorious layer of salt lick scum that coats the tables. try scraping a finger nail softly across the table and see what you get...if you dare.

mostly i love the patio because it reminds me of the salt lick of my youth. this is where we always sat, and when we're sitting out there, it looks pretty much just like the old place i grew up with. but this is not the old place, not by any stretch. they are open every day now, there are 5 buildings out there, the coke they serve is the same old over-syruped crap you get out of a fountain, and they have got off-duty barney fife out there "directing" traffic. you can order their sauce on-line, buy a t-shirt, or mail order a pound of brisket and have it sent to the other side of the world. i guess this is progress, and it is great for the roberts'; but, you know me, i like it the way i like it.

it goes without saying that i can't wait to go back.