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Sometimes everyday life seems to take over. The clock rings at the same time. The dog wants the same breakfast. The same shower washes the same face that needs to be shaved. The same "Have a good day" chorus is heard in the driveway. The same drive to the same place to do the same thing. Every day could be nameless.
It can begin to eat at you, the boredom of the expected. But occassionally, something can happen to let you know it could be worse. And when it does, you are lifted back into knowing that there is comfort in the familiar.
One day, while getting gas, I watched traffic and the people nearby. On the corner was a man holding small sheets of paper and asking for donations. I had seen these people before, they ask for money for a church you never heard of or for programs that you won't find in the yellow pages. Often the paper they hand you only tells you that the person who made it doesn't have spellcheck.
Anyway, when a homeless man approached the corner, the man with the papers yelled, " Hey! Get out of here! I've been here all day!"
To which the homeless man replied, "So what, I've been here for years."
Every house is unique. Some more than others, but each has its own energy. For some reason, most that I have lived in have had "active energies".
As a child, no one could explain the night I woke to find an object floating in my bedroom. Or the heeled shoes that could be heard walking down the hallway as everyone tried to sleep. The woman spotted in the hall and in the kitchen no one knew.
A later house had a man who would appear at times. It also brought sleepless nights wondering if a person was going to wake you again with their touch. And we only assumed that it was this gentleman who changed our TV channels and turned radios on and off.
But the most haunted may the one I'm in now. Nothing ever seems to happen. This Haunted House
We left the honky tonk at closing time having had probably too much fun. A few miles down the road my passenger begs to pull over. I do, and he falls into a eight foot freshly graded bar ditch. I couldn't help but laugh as he got back to the truck with grass clippings peeking from his now turned up collar.
"You alright", I asked
"Yeah, I felt sick but I'm good now."
As we got closer to home, and more than a few mintues had passed, I spoke up. "I guess sometimes the best thing for feeling shaky is getting the hell shaken out of you, huh?"
He replied, "Yeah, well, you think too much."
To which there was only one answer, "Well, with you around someone has to pull up the slack!"
Years later, Billy Joe Shaver is playing one night at a roadhouse not too far away from me. I go and, as always, am blown away. (I firmly believe that Billy Joe, as maybe Kinky Friedman has said before, should have had his face carved long ago into Coutry Music's Mount Rushmore.)
As the band breaks between sets, I decide to look out a window to watch the sun go down. As I'm looking I hear someone say, "That's what they call a two way mirror."
I turn to see that it was, of all people, Billy Joe making this remark.
Knowing now who is speaking, I smile and say "Oh."
He says, "Yeah, that's cause you see through two sides."
I nod, and he walks away.
In a way, I guess I deserved it.
As I was watching TV the other night I was reminded that the Way has been shown to us. I was watching a documentary focusing on the latest Waylon tribute album. About half way through the hour show, clips from a Waylon interview from 1984 were shown. Waylon was recorded saying "it's not about them, it's about you. It's what you have to say."
Is there anything more that needs to be said?