Next Time, No Nose Tap

I am unbelievably romantic and loving and, unfortunately, just a little (a LOT) off the wall. If you cataloged everything my wife has said during the last 15-20 years, the entry with the most hits would have to be: 'You are SO strange.'

My final year in college was 1977; and I worked most of that year at KYKR, a country (country/western is what we called it then) radio station near Port Arthur, usually late-night or 'graveyard' weekend shifts . . . (yes, this is all going somewhere)

Thanks to my dad, I already had a pretty full repertoire of country classics, but months and months of singing country songs LOUDLY, trying hard to stay awake (no worry, Mr. Joynt; microphones off, studios empty and always awake), etched the lyrics of hundreds of country songs, some truly awful, in my facts-need-not-apply brain.

One of the advantages from that era is that old country/western music helps keep me awake, especially on late-night drives. My wife and I were returning from Austin this evening, and KSCS, one of the local country stations (Nashville country . . . patooey! her regular choice, not mine), was airing its regular Classic Country Saturday night . . . (yes, this is still going somewhere)

My yankee wife, who I've said before loves all things Texas, loves contemporary country music, but hates classic country. And now she especially hates Tom T. Hall.

The disc jockey (or whatever he's called now) intros Tom T. Hall's 'I Love.' I start bouncing with excitement all over the cab of my truck (as much as driving will allow me anyway), and I start to droan along with Tom (my wife is shocked/disgusted that I know the lyrics).

I love little baby ducks, old pick-up trucks, slow-moving trains, and rain
I love little country streams, sleep without dreams, Sunday school in May
And hay
And I love you, too

When I get to I love you, I look at my wife and on too, I playfully tap her on the nose.

Maybe I need some advice for the lovelorn, but I have begun to believe that maybe women really don't like being compared to baby ducks, pick-up trucks, trains and hay. And that maybe they don't like being thumped on the nose at 70 MPH. And that maybe they just don't like Tom T. Hall.

She's just lucky that Tom and I didn't belt out . . .

I like beer. It makes me a jolly good fellow
I like beer. It helps me unwind and sometimes it makes me feel mellow (makes him feel mellow)
Whiskey's too rough, champagne costs too much, and vodka puts my mouth in gear
Aw, this little refrain should help me explain, as a matter of fact, i love beer (yes, he likes beer)

(I tried really hard to find a 'my hero' Tom T. Hall photo that resembled him on that evening in the late '60s, when they poured him onto the stage of Woodrow Wilson Junior High for his Port Arthur CavOILcade performance . . . dang it! no luck)