More 'Tucky Bluegrass

Sweet Pea and Uncle Bubba went out for a big time last night. They went to the Big Kmart in Corbin, KY, and he bought a new fishing lure; a Glass Shad Rattlin' Rap. This will help him put the whoop-ass on some of these lazy Kentucky bass. Then they went to dinner at a nice restaurant in town called The Depot on Main St. They actually sat down and were served! No buffet! They had a great dinner in a swanky atmosphere and then drove back towards the Cumberland Gap tunnel. Uncle Bubba was told that on Thursday nights there is a bluegrass jam session at the BP Station on HWY 25 in Flat Lick so as they rolled down the hill he pulled right on in. It's a gas station that also sells hunting and fishing supplies - pretty cool. Bubbie walked in and recognized Ron from the jam session that he attended last Saturday night. They swapped casual observances and Ron said that they were about to start pickin'.

He asked if Uncle Bubba brought his guitar and he said, "No. I'm just here to listen and experience the experience. I am definitely not a bluegrass picker."

Ron and the boys would not have any of it and they pulled out a guitar from a back room and told me to tune up and play. "OK! Man," Bubbie thought laughingly, "these Tuckians sure are demanding!" There were a BUNCH of pickers there; they had a standup bass, 2 mandolins, a banjo and the rest were guitars.

They kept calling for Bubbie to sing so he ran down the couple of bluegrass songs that he knew and they jammed for hours. They eventually, literally, closed the gas station down and the boys had to leave.



Uncle Bubba also mentioned that they were sitting in a little room inside the building and Sweet Pea and he could look out the doorway and see the store counter about 20 feet away. There was a steady stream of dirty coal miners coming in to purchase things, some even stopped to poke their heads in and listen.

There was another regular flow of kids, some dressed in their pajamas coming in to buy candy and junk. In Bubbie's view, just a cool slice of Americana.

Kentucky Jam

Uncle Bubba has found himself back up in the hills and hollers of eastern Kentucky. When Uncle Bubba shows up to work, there is no problem building rapport among the local workers, but too often the days end for him alone in a hotel room. Well, on this trip Uncle Bubba started off on a different foot for two reasons, Sweet Pea was with him on this trip and while at work he struck up a conversation about music. This immediately struck a chord with one of the local fellas and they enjoyed a repartee about types and styles of music as well as the fun of playing music. For those of you that don't know, Uncle Bubba loves to strum a guitar and sing along. As the day drew to an end, his new acquaintance Jerry invited him to a jam session. So after work Bubbie got cleaned up and slicked down and had some dinner; a PB&J in his room. Then he grabbed his ol' flattop and he and Sweet Pea drove to meet his new buddy Jerry at a gas station. Bubbie pulled up to the side of the building and slipped the car into park. They watched the local Kentuckians roll in and out of the service station. This particular station had a full service island and a young man with a blonde crewcut and a company shirt stood at the pump and waited for cars to pull up for service. Four dudes with motorcycles stood near Bubbie's car chatting and checking out the girls driving by. Jerry pulled up shortly thereafter and walked over to Bubbie's car in his sleeveless t-shirt. He asked if they wanted to buy some drinks while they were there since he wasn't sure that there would be much where they were headed. Uncle Bubba took him up on the offer. Knox County is a dry county so they picked up some Mountain Dew for the road. Then it was back to their vehicles and Bubbie followed Jerry up the holler to the house. They pulled up into the drive and navigated between the pickup trucks and parked. There was a little white house tucked neatly into the trees and a detached garage up in front of where they had parked. Sweat Pea and Bubbie climbed out of their car and followed Jerry up the path and into the garage.

When they walked in Bubbie felt like a turd in the punch bowl. All eyes were on Sweet Pea and Bubbie, "Stranger alert!" But after a little while, like dogs allowing a new dog to join the pack, they warmed up to him and took to their instruments. Having Sweet Pea there no doubt helped cuz they liked that purty smellin' fancy lady. The homeowner's name was Ron and he was a good ol' boy. He was slender with slicked back silver hair and a rather bulbous proboscis. He had a welcoming, friendly personality and was never too far from a cigarette. Ron had an awesome man cave there in his garage that had a bar a big wooden table and chairs and his whole "band" set up at one end.

These boys were serious and had amps and a PA system! Uncle Bubba was there just to sit in but they immediately demanded that he play and sing something. Bubbie had to do a couple songs and then they seemed to be cool with that and accept him is an OK dude. As an aside, he noticed that he was the only feller in the place that had brown eyes. Every other person there was blue eyed. Bubbie has noticed a lot of these Kentuckians have blue eyes. They then proceeded to jam for 3 straight hours. There were 5 guitars a banjo player and a bass. They were real tight on singing 4 part harmonies, which something you don't hear much in popular music anymore; and that's a cryin' shame. Bubbie didn't know most of the songs they played but he was able to hang with them all night long. They kept looking for Jerry to sing some songs but like a bee to honey, he was much more intent on keeping Sweet Pea company. He finally got up and sang at the end of the night. By the time they quit it was handshakes all around and they told him to come back next week. To Bubbie that was the most awesome compliment. In Bubbie's view it was another reminder of how music has opened a lot of doors and added a richness to his life that he never could have imagined.

Citified Country Boy

Uncle Bubba has finished working on a project that was located in a major American city. When he wasn't working, he boarded at a hotel room on the 14th floor in the downtown area of the city. I know, it sounds glamorous, and he admits that it wasn't bad. But the hotel was located within a few feet of the railroad tracks and 6 to 8 times a night a coal train rumbled heavily by and Bubbie could feel the entire building subtly wobble. On more than a few occasions he sleepily awoke from Johnny Cash dreams with the train whistle wailing over and over and over... "I hear the train a-comin', it's rollin' round the bend..." Since the train rambled along the steel rails that split the center of the city it had to blow the whiney whistling warning incessantly at every approaching intersection. He would often count the number of times he heard it before getting bored, drifting up into the upper teens and his feeble mind would meander off to other thoughts, too often of home.

Bubbie drove through the city every morning to get to work and travelled a long stretch of road that was 7 lanes wide, 3 on each side and a center turn lane down the middle. It was riddled with traffic that jockeyed crazily for position like when they drop the green flag at a NASCAR race. They raced from traffic light to traffic light, switching lanes and dispassionately dodging the occasional jaywalking, wild-eyed pedestrians. Along each stretch of road between the congested intersections were a series of bus stops so if one were trapped riding in the far right lane, the trip was stuttered with multiple stops as the bus shuttled its passengers. Watching the eccentric ne'er-do-wells with exasperated faces, sweating the humidity while waiting on the bus was as entertaining as going to the zoo. In the early morning the sidewalks were straggly traversed by staggering winos (and winettes), thugs and hookers. There were brown people, fluffy black women in tight clothes and stubby hispanics, maybe returning from work, maybe on their way. Skinny black men walking on toothpick ankles poking out beneath hugely oversized "shorts". They enthusiastically puffed slim tiparillo cigars while clutching their sagging waistband with one hand to keep their droopy draws from sliding completely off. Every morning Uncle Bubba would hit a McDonald's drive-thru for a piping hot, large black coffee. With traffic racing bumper to bumper at 45 mph, he'd signal as early as possible and try not to slow for fear of being rear-ended as he'd cut the wheel hard to the right and careen into the McDonald's parking lot. Quite often a scantily clad lady of the night would be standing, dangling precariously at the edge of the curb as Bubbie peeled off of the roadway. He feared that he'd nearly clip her with his passenger side mirror as he sped around the corner. She, like a female matador would lean forward to look in at his face through the passenger side window as he sped around the corner. Ole! It would make Bubbie's skin crawl. Fate had put them together for two harrowing seconds every odd morning and Bubbie was glad that fate had now sent him home, hopefully to never see her again. As he sat in the drive-thru line he would cautiously swivel his head around watching for any potential thieves as he felt like a sitting target; window down, money in hand. It was only two dollars but that doesn't matter to a crackhead, it's money you have and they want. Armed, he'd consider to what degree he'd defend himself over two dollars. If a beggar asked him for it he'd hand it over with a blessing; but try and steal it and you might get shot.

What a life some people live. He'd seen some mercurial mamas that he'd say were ladies but not necessarily a women. In the light of morning most of these brazen, animated characters along his route seemed oddly out of place, even in the city setting. Their circumstances have them trapped in a momentary existence. Maybe it's their race, or ethnicity, or choice; but they swim in their circumstances and drown in their cunning. In Bubbie's view, he's thankful for his circumstances; especially the ones that he has control over and chooses to rise above. "Well, if they freed me from this prison, if that railroad train was mine, I bet I'd move out over a little farther down the line. Far from Folsom Prison, that's where I want to stay. And I'd let that lonesome whistle, blow my blues away." - Johnny Cash

Be Somebody

Every so often in life you meet someone that makes a tremendous impression and you realize that the world doesn’t revolve around each of us. Uncle Bubba met just such a person the other day, Big Ron from Texas. Big Ron is a big fella, but Uncle Bubba calls him big due to his magnanimous personality. Uncle Bubba tries to be a nice person and though somewhat shy, he is genuinely generous with his time and material processions. The same can be said of Big Ron; however he is gracious beyond reproach. He is gifted in genial articulation. For us non Texans it seems to be their way, but it doesn’t take one long in Big Ron’s presence to discern that his words are heartfelt. Uncle Bubba humbly thanked Big Ron over and over again for his noble natter and came away from their visit feeling better about himself. How many people can say that? Uncle Bubba believes that we’ve become a selfishly self-centered society and we don’t put much stock in our conduct. We’re not much interested in behaving in a way that benefits the world outside of our own wants and desires. Why we hardly pay anybody any mind if it doesn’t benefit us in some way. Yup, our friends, our family, they’re all there to serve our needs; but what have we done for them lately that is outside of our normal chores or duties? A kind word and a little encouragement goes a long way.

Uncle Bubba was fortunate to meet Big Ron and to have the honor of being in the presence of a person that reminded him that we need to continue to hold our inner demeanor to a higher standard. It’s a reminder that you never know how your life and your conduct may influence others and in Bubbie’s view that should only be a positive experience. Thank you Big Ron.

Better Days

I've been concerned about Uncle Bubba lately, these past couple of years have been a challenge for him. Work has been a struggle. He had himself a fine job and did it well. He was making a good wage and being "old school" he worked hard to justify it. He reckoned that if he was getting paid to perform, then he damn sure better do it. Then out of the blue he was notified that he and seven others were going to be "right-sized". That is the new PC friendly term for laid off. But all was not lost. Due to his good reputation he was immediately rehired to perform the same job, but at a much lesser hourly rate. Good ol' Bubbie, he spun it to be fortunate to have a job in these crazy days.

Uncle Bubba's daughter had twin baby girls while he was working out of state. He wasn't able to participate in the excitement at the hospital and it was a month before he laid eyes on them. They are healthy and growing incredibly fast. He and Sweet Pea also reunited with a foster child that they once had. Nearly 13 years had past after they had fought to keep the child, but the courts had failed the mother absconded with the child. The reunion was incredible for the entire family and in Bubbie's view had completed the family. The child moved in with Bubbie and Sweet Pea shortly before turning 18 and a year later graduated high school. Then the young adult gave up on it all and left. They haven't heard a word since and Bubbie has been grieving ever since. Every time I visit with him he mentions it and he hopes that the lost child at least shows up at the university that they have them enrolled in. It's just like Bubbie to never give up hope.

I can tell y'all that over the past few weeks I've seen some marked improvement in his attitude. There is no quit in Bubbie and he told me this the last time I spoke to him, "I know I've been outta sorts but I'm tired of the drama and the heartache. Its time to pick'em up and put'em down and git-r-dun. I wanna have a little fun." He later quoted, “We are all visitors to this time, this place. We are just passing through. Our purpose here is to observe, to learn, to grow, to love... and then we return home.” This saying truly sums up Bubbie's view.

Eulogy For A Friend

This is the end. It takes one to know one my friend, so I know how you feel. You try not to think about it as the end, just the opportunity for a new beginning. But its inevitable, this is the last of it and it has that feeling of finality. The surety of the end overpowers the uncertainty of the future, yet to survive we need to acknowledge that this is the end so that this door closes. Still we need the hope that whatever comes next will measure up to our glorified past. This is not a send off, this is not farewell, this is the turning of a page in the book of life. This salient milestone is our mark in time, our stack of field stone on our grassy, hallowed battlefield. And beyond this end, please remember me.