10-4, Roger D, there good buddy. I'd be happy to whup a call on ole Dave. Bless his heart, that relocatin's a sure nuff bear sometimes. Especially when the roots is dug in real well. You can make direct contact with yours truly through the e-mail address over in the settings area behind this here curtain, so to speak. Nextly, Tippins. Now, I don't think I'll have time this Friday to do a search and destroy on their pie, but I will be traveling through (this wearisome land) the greater KC area. Picking up my son from your basic MCI or KCI, then a quick stop in Lee's Summit before heading on to Columbia (the MU one, not the drug one). I do believe I have heard of Tippins though. I'll have to put that on my to-do list.
Yesterday, I was starting out on my bike ride and was taking my usual route through one of our local parks. I cross a small bridge to get from one side of the crick to the other. This time, there were a couple of gents on the bridge looking down into the water. I slowed down and asked, in jest, if they had seen any keepers. The older fellow said "Well, let me ast ya a question." That was the beginning of a 20 minute conversation, primarily him talking and me listening. He allowed as how he didn't know much about "this country", meaning the Neosho area. Of course, I had to "ast" where he was from. "Hurley, but you probably never heered o' that". Well, I had, because I used to live not to far from there. The balance of the conversation pretty much revolved around the decimation of the Ozarks by the formidable evil known as Progress. Cities expanding, folks movin' in, farms disappearing and so on. He proceeded to tell me about his brother's place over by "Nixey". Well, folks, right there I dang near had an out of body experience. I'm not real sure what he had to say about his brother's place, because I got sucked right into the middle of the only verse I believe has ever been penned with that word, or name, in it. Now, at this point, I am going to apologize to DW for being aged and having a feeble mind, which is basically my way of saying I can't precisely recall the words, and I didn't have time this morning to grab the CD, but I believe she goes something like this: "Got a gal in Nixey, not everybody knows.....". Heck, that might not even be close. The point is, this ole boy that was doin' the talkin' was the real McCoy, the genuine article. And I was wholly struck by the fact that someone's music had made a connection to that genuineness. That's what good music does: it connects. Sometimes it connects to some-THING, sometimes it connects the head to the heart to the spirit. But it connects. Probably not much of it does, but the good stuff does. And I am glad to say that I have had the opportunity to know some of the good stuff. Well, the Hurley man finished his tale of encroaching civilization and goat farming and I excused myself to finish my ride. Off I went humming the good stuff. That's the way life goes. That's the way life goes.
Dave - your phone's ringing.
Be happy and careful
Yesterday, I was starting out on my bike ride and was taking my usual route through one of our local parks. I cross a small bridge to get from one side of the crick to the other. This time, there were a couple of gents on the bridge looking down into the water. I slowed down and asked, in jest, if they had seen any keepers. The older fellow said "Well, let me ast ya a question." That was the beginning of a 20 minute conversation, primarily him talking and me listening. He allowed as how he didn't know much about "this country", meaning the Neosho area. Of course, I had to "ast" where he was from. "Hurley, but you probably never heered o' that". Well, I had, because I used to live not to far from there. The balance of the conversation pretty much revolved around the decimation of the Ozarks by the formidable evil known as Progress. Cities expanding, folks movin' in, farms disappearing and so on. He proceeded to tell me about his brother's place over by "Nixey". Well, folks, right there I dang near had an out of body experience. I'm not real sure what he had to say about his brother's place, because I got sucked right into the middle of the only verse I believe has ever been penned with that word, or name, in it. Now, at this point, I am going to apologize to DW for being aged and having a feeble mind, which is basically my way of saying I can't precisely recall the words, and I didn't have time this morning to grab the CD, but I believe she goes something like this: "Got a gal in Nixey, not everybody knows.....". Heck, that might not even be close. The point is, this ole boy that was doin' the talkin' was the real McCoy, the genuine article. And I was wholly struck by the fact that someone's music had made a connection to that genuineness. That's what good music does: it connects. Sometimes it connects to some-THING, sometimes it connects the head to the heart to the spirit. But it connects. Probably not much of it does, but the good stuff does. And I am glad to say that I have had the opportunity to know some of the good stuff. Well, the Hurley man finished his tale of encroaching civilization and goat farming and I excused myself to finish my ride. Off I went humming the good stuff. That's the way life goes. That's the way life goes.
Dave - your phone's ringing.
Be happy and careful
posted by Bud at 7:20 AM
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