The Birthday Dog
I really tried to write this yesterday. I really did. It was a kinda sorta Wednesday Walk down memory lane. That ended up with that stupid dog.
You see, yesterday was my birthday. My 68th birthday as a matter of fact. I was thinking back about what I’ve done and what I haven’t done. Then I got to thinking about people I have known and friends that I have enjoyed. Which turned into a memorium of sorts for all of them that are dead.
That isn’t a bad thing or a particularly good thing either. It’s just a thing. A lot of my friends and mentors are dead. Simple as that. Except for that Melon Collie. The stupid dog.
It’s not that I miss them so. Well, I do miss them so, but I get it. They aren’t here and there is nothing I can do about it. So long as I remember them, one and all, they aren’t completely dead.
It turns out that I just don’t think I’m doing that part of the deal particularly well. The remembering part-or more specifically, sharing the memories part.
I promise to do a little better with that. I made that promise last night in hopes of chasing the Collie off and I intend to keep it.
The Collie left for good, and the day brightened significantly when my brother called last night. He and I have shared a lot of life over the years and there have been some places for us both when we were the only thing the other had.
Not that we are much alike, he and I. He grew up a cowboy with Buck Owens while I was the hippy with the Rolling Stones. Literally.
Talk about old. I’m really glad I’m not old like the Stones. I mean really. Have you been following their current tour at all? No announcement, but it sort of feels like their last tour and so the press has been kind and common. Lots of pictures and videos.
So, my phone call with Randy ended with a lot of giggles and crazy talk when I asked him the question: Have you noticed how much Mick Jagger looks like Grandma Haynie? Scary thought...
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