Vasectomies and Big Time Country Music Shows
Of all things that exist on the planet in which we ride, it is music that possesses the power to move, to shape, and to inspire like nothing else. This I learned at a very early age, back in the 1960’s playing 45 records on a record player borrowed from Varnado High School. I couldn’t name, right off, any of the singles that we listened to, no not one. Of course, this would be due to the fact that I was only 6 or 7 years old. Possibly, some of the Elvis Presley singles and maybe one by the Box Tops, but these days, any chronology of events are increasingly vague.
At the age of 9, we moved to Mississippi and I recall a red phonograph and a cassette tape recorder. We could record songs from the radio for the first time. (Without regard to quality, but just the same) I can remember “Philadelphia Freedom” and I can remember “Billy Don’t Be A Hero” but beyond, going back that far, well, I just don’t know. Suffice it to say, that I listened to music and I listened often.
In Mississippi, my dad began construction of the very house from which the majority of the One-Man-Think-Tank posts originate today. He purchased a portable 8-track tape player and a few 8-tracks to provide music while construction was going on. The sounds of Tammy Wynette, Jim Reeves, and Johnny Cash filled the walls of this home, even as they were erected. Later, when the house became mine, again, the sounds of Dwight Yoakam, The Mavericks, and Conway Twitty filled the rooms as a major remodel was completed. And more recently, after a fire almost destroyed her, I personally rebuilt her, along with a long playlist of the music of different genres and from a span of a lifetime.
I bounced around from Rock-n-Roll to disco and Soul, and got away from country music in my junior high and early high school years, shunning country music pretty much all together for a while, because it just didn’t seem “cool.” Then one evening, my brother-in-law loaned me his Buick Regal to take a girl out on the town. I was running late and had no time to try to figure out how to work the stereo in the car, so I just let the existing cassette play. At first, I thought, “Oh lord, I’m going to have to find something better than this.” The time would have been the early 1980s and very long hair was my thing. A song ended and another started and I heard the lyrics, “cause my long hair just can’t cover up my red neck” which intrigued me, so I listened more. I doubt my date appreciated it much, but we listened to David Allan Coe for the majority of the evening. Since then, my favorite music genre has been country and western, though I appreciate music from bluegrass to opera and everything in between, even some hip-hop and rap.
In the early nineties, I found myself a single dad, broke, paying child support, and learning to navigate my way as a single guy for the first time in several years. I thought long and hard about my situation and of the love I held for my daughter. From the start, I was very guarded about the feelings of Brandi and I generally kept her away from any “romantic” interests that I got involved with. Brandi was my world and I attempted to be sure of a long term thing before introducing her to any of my lady friends. I realized quickly that many of the available women in my age group were also divorced with a child or two and learned that it takes a lot of maturity to accept the children of another man, and I learned the same existed for a woman to accept my child. This is a very slippery slope and I took it seriously. Some seem to jump in and out of relationships without regard to his children or her children, and I guess it is ok, but I found myself very much overprotective of Brandi. It is for this reason, I convinced myself and was able to convince a physician that I never wanted additional children and just like that, an appointment for a vasectomy was scheduled. My memory escapes me as to why, but the appointment was scheduled out in the future from that point. I’m thinking like 6 weeks or so. Maybe they wanted to give me time to be positive of my decision, I don’t know, but that was the case.
Though it wasn’t an original saying, my mother used the phrase, “God takes care of fools and little children.” Call it God, call it fate, or just call it coincidence, but a few days later a friend called with news that George Jones, Conway Twitty, and Merle Haggard were to be in concert on the Gulf Coast on such and such a date and would I be interested in going. Imagine my excitement. To have three of my all-time favorites in one concert, why hell yeah, I was going. Plans were made, tickets purchased, and a hotel room booked. We were ready to go. Except for one thing, I didn’t connect the date of the show with the date of my pending procedure. They were both happening on the same day. I mentioned earlier that one aspect of my condition at the time was that I was broke. So I also neglected to consider spent most of my money on concert tickets and a hotel room. The money I had sort of earmarked for my procedure. In fact, I didn’t make that leap until on Monday of the week of the concert. “Oh crap,” I thought. I remember thinking very specifically that I needed to get one of those “Day Timer” organizers, to avoid things like the conundrum in which I found myself. I called my friend to tell her of my dilemma which led to her repeatedly asking if I was sure I wanted to go through with the procedure. She had not known of my plans and was surprised that I was so determined to never reproduce again. I on the other hand was so sure of it that I asked around to see if it would be possible for me to do both. And of course, the idea, to say the least, was ill-advised. In the end, I decided that, given the fact that I had already spent the vasectomy money, I would need to reschedule. After all, it isn’t every day that George, Conway, and Merle come to town.
The concert was without a doubt a bucket list item, even before the term “bucket list” was a thing. Age and time prohibit most memories of the show, for that matter, lots of alcohol may have rendered me unable to remember it the next day. However, I know that I went and I can remember 3 songs, one by each legend. First, George Jones opened with his famous, “No Show Jones.” Though not one of my favorites, I remember Conway singing “The Rose.” And I remember Merle singing “Twinkle, Twinkle, Lucky Star.”
South of heaven, George, Conway, and Merle have played their last shows. But I imagine somewhere above, there is a hell of a band, and these three are kickin’ it on the country music scene, just as they always did. When I hear on of their songs today, I can’t help but smile, because I never rescheduled the appointment, and thanks to these three legends, my second daughter Shelby, was born, just as God had scheduled. And because of them, because of music, I didn’t miss the joy that she has brought to my life.