"Come to the Bower"

In "Honkytonking with the Silver Strings," which was recently released in the 2018 Panther City Review, one of the characters is a descendant of Frederick Lemsky, who was the flute player at the Battle of San Jacinto. Lemsky, a Central European immigrant who arrived in Texas in 1836, is believed to have played the song "Come to the Bower" during the famous battle.

To learn more about Frederick Lemsky, please follow the link to the TSHA article: 

https://tshaonline.org/handbook/online/articles/fle28

Here is "Come to the Bower" played by none other than Townes Van Zandt:

Aretha's Texas Connection

This week we lost Aretha Franklin, "The Queen of Soul," and though she was a Memphis native, she had a Texas connection. You see, Aretha Franklin was backed by the Kingpins, which included Fort Worth's own King Curtis on saxophone and Cornell Dupree on guitar, as well as Houston-born Billy Preston on the keys. In fact, that first jangly lick on "Respect" is Cornell Dupree's guitar.

As a salute to this musical legend, here is Aretha Franklin playing live with the Kingpins at the Fillmore West in 1971. The announcer is concert promoter Bill Graham.

Time and Memory

"Honkytonking with the Silver Strings," a new story set in Waylon County, will be included in the 2018 Panther City Review, which will be released next Saturday at Funky Town Festival headquarters in the Fort Worth Stockyards. In the story, I mention Jean Shepard, a country music singer whose family was part of the Okie migration to California during the Dust Bowl. Although this Grand Ole Opry star was the first female country artist after World War II to sell a million records, she is hardly a household name today. 

In "Honkytonking with the Silver Strings," I also allude to other artists whose work was first released on 78 rpm records, and though not every reader will know every artist, the characters in the story would have known them all. And considering the almighty power of google, I know that anyone with a burning interest to hear the music of any given artist can find it in a couple of clicks.

Here is "Second Fiddle to an Old Guitar" sung by Jean Shepard.

A Ritual of Sorts

When I was a boy, I often spent Friday nights with my grandparents. On Saturday morning after breakfast we would go for a ride in the country, out to where they were raised. Although sometime around 1960 they moved to Fort Worth for a better life for their children, they were still country in spirit and habit. And so we rode along through Wise County, always stopping at the country cemetery where much of the family is buried.

On Saturdays I sometimes visit that same country cemetery myself, for that is where my grandparents are also buried. I pay my respects and then walk along imagining the lives of the people buried there. I contemplate the summations of the grieved found on the headstones. She is only sleeping. The Lord is my shepherd. I contemplate the dates. June 8, 1944. Christmas Day. I walk along reflecting, and then I travel home.

A few weeks ago, I came across the grave of a woman who lived from the times of covered wagons to the years following the lunar landing. Although I never knew this woman, nor is she my kin, I took a picture of her gravestone because I thought her epitaph was beautiful.

     

Fascinating Creatures

At my mama's house recently, I came across a colony of ant lions in the backyard. As a child, I was fascinated by these little creatures, and I loved to gently touch their pits with a twig to watch them kick the dirt back out. Sometimes I would even scoop up the dirt surrounding a pit and let the ant lion run around in the dirt on my palm.

Imagine my surprise when I learned that these fascinating little creatures were only larvae. After going into a cocoon, they emerge with wings and take flight. What an interesting life to live. O brave new world that has such creatures in it.   

Advice Long-Heeded

Many moons ago, I heard Ray Bradbury speak at Texas Wesleyan University in Fort Worth. I found his words inspiring, and the stories of his early struggles encouraged me as a person and as a writer. Today, more than twenty years later, I still follow the advice he gave to all of the aspiring fiction writers in the audience. "Read poetry," he said. And ever since then, I have always kept a stack of it on the night stand.

One night I might dip into the work of a Texas-affiliated poet such as Christian Wiman, Paul Ruffin, or Naomi Shihab Nye. Another night I might read a bit of Rumi or Gunter Grass or Pablo Neruda. The words and rhythms inhabit my dreams, and come morning, I am somehow better prepared to write.

National Sisters Day in Texas

Today is National Sisters Day, a fact I honestly did not know until this morning after reading a Texas State Historical Association tweet featuring a photograph of the Twin Sisters Dance Hall. Well, this afternoon I got to thinking about sisters, and my mother and her three sisters in particular.

Yes, you heard correctly. My grandparents had four daughters. Back when I was knee-high to a katydid, all four of the sisters even played on the same softball team. If I were a composer of elementary school math problems, I would definitely write a question about that softball team. The answer would be 40%. The Drain sisters made up 40% of the starting lineup.

And here is a song by the fiddle-playing Quebe Sisters from Burleson, Texas. Happy National Sisters Day from the Lone Star State!

      

An Awkward Encounter Near Uncle Willie in Bronze

While in Austin recently, I came upon the statue of Willie Nelson and decided to take a picture for my blog. It was firecracker hot that day, and there was no one else on the street other than a rather attractive woman sitting on the nearby stairs. The woman, who gave me a cynical smile, probably thought that I was taking pictures of her and only pretending to capture the bronze image of Uncle Willie. The scene, quite frankly, was a short story in the making.