ghosts of pickers past

The Alberton Papers, Vol. V, #VIII
By Dick Darne 11-26-07
On this cold dreary morning, as the thinkers were filing into the larger quarters across the drive, some could swear they were hearing faint guitar music and two part harmony coming from inside the building.
"......gonna lay down my old guitar, wish I could tie it to my side and take it along with me....."
It was becoming unmistakable to any true apostle of the roots of American Country Music that it was the sound of the Delmore Brothers. But they "left the room" over forty years ago and no one was visible in the think tank picking or singing. Oh well, any highly trained thinker knows when it’s time to shut up and listen, so they all filed in, sat down, closed their eyes and opened their cognitive receptors.
"They crushed out the old junk cars, they crushed out the old junk cars. Wish I could tie one to my side and take it along with me.."
"There goes the cultural value" someone said.
"Where you gonna get your old car part, where you gonna get your old car part.
O’Reilly, NAPA, Car Quest too, bring cash, cause they ain’t got no heart...."
"Economic advantage just flew the coop." someone else exclaimed.
"What’ll we do with our unwanted stuff, what’ll we do with our unwanted stuff. Haul it to Sanders County, they’ll tell you tough, we don’t want Mineral County’s stuff...."
"Scratch Community and Neighbors." said a familiar voice.
After each verse came the chorus and a harmony yodel, not the Swiss/Cowboy type but rather the "blue yodel" which is probably the closest a white man can come to actually singing the blues. Then came the last verse.
"They’ll dump it up the old back roads, they’ll dump it up the old back roads. In every creek and every gulch, lots and lots of loads...."
"And last, but not least, kiss the environment goodbye." several said at once.
Have the Thinkers seen and heard a ghost? Stay tuned for ruminations on finks, snakes in grass and banana gobblers and how they can redeem themselves. dd
Author’s note: listen to "lay down my old guitar" at: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sjk6uObbbt4

the old fool

The Alberton Papers, Vol. V, #VII
By Dick Darne 11-19-07
The cool fall night made the wood smoke rise over the think tank. The coffee smell hung low. The thinkers were assembling. What profound ruminations would emanate from the collective imperium of the finest brains of Alberton?
"Hey, where’s that Old Fool, Dick?" someone yelled. "Don’t he ever think any more? It seems like all he ever does is dream about the good old days with cousin Freddie and all the trouble they used to get into."
"That’s kind of an escape for him, he’s been feeling a mite poorly here lately, which at his age can bring on a new appreciation of one’s own mortality, which is not helped by noticing that your doctor looks too young to be a doctor and even more not helped by an impending routine medical procedure that appears to have been conceived by someone who watches too much sci-fi channel." said Bill Woods. "I’ve been there, done that myself."
"So what happened?" asked Johnny.
"Same as me, everything worked out fine, absolutely no pain at all, not even any embarrassment. Other than having to drink a gallon of stuff that tasted like a spoiled mixture of Tang and Ovaltine in a short time, there wasn’t even any discomfort. The crap I drank back in my drinking days caused far more discomfort. When It’s over you can check off a couple more things that aren’t wrong with you. Well worth it." replied Bill. "Your Doctor may look young, but remember, he knows more than you do."
"So, what’s this ‘Plan-B’ I’ve been hearing him mumble about here lately?" asked Todd.
" Possibly a pipedream, but the Old Fool just might do it. Put the back wheels in the Pacific Ocean and ride east with the wind at your back to the Atlantic. With the right dog as your companion, to watch your back at night, which could be quite a few nights sleeping under the stars, and freed from day to day worries, just think of the thinking one could do. A hundred days on the road like that could make a man a master thinker." answered Bill.
"Or a hundred days later he could be just as nuts as he was on the first one." someone said.
"Only one way to ever know for sure and that’s to just do it." came the final word from Elder."
Will the Old Fool actually do it? Stay tuned to this column for fast breaking news of this latest Alberton saga. dd

education of me and cousin freddie, part 2

By Dick Darne 11-06-07
The education of me and Freddie, part 2
They were building a new post office and shopping center in town. Amid all the hustle-bustle we slipped in closer, past the "keep-out" signs. We got close enough to actually hear what the workers were saying.
"Hand me that *^&##!~`/< board!"
"You +^&&%*#@~@^^*, I said cut it 2 feet, 5 inches."
"No you didn’t, you &^^*)$@@~>ing idiot!"
Wow! We had never heard the English language used like that. It flowed off their tongues like water tumbling over a rippling waterfall,.there would be no further need for so-called formal education, English, grammar, sentence structure, this was the real thing, the mark of a real education. We settled in, trying to be invisible while we kept our mouths shut and our ears open. We decided to demonstrate our newfound knowledge at dinner that night. The grownups would see that we had become men, our older cousins would begin to give us the respect we surely deserved now and the younger kids would be completely awed.
It was now our turn at the dinner table, at the "home place", we ate in shifts, our place in the hierarchy was after the grownups including our older cousins and before the youngest of the kids. We would be the oldest at the table, and in our minds, the wisest. Aunt Eunice, as usual was in charge. After a bit of whispered discussion about who was to go first, we boldly went where no fools had gone before.
"Pass the *^^%)#?>%%#~* mashed potatoes!"
"How about some >>{+%&&^##~<"**% gravy to go with it?"
Jaws dropped among the adults. The little kids were smart enough to not laugh. I remember looking over at the wood cookstove and seeing a piece of bread slowly turning brown on the top. That’s what we were. Toast. At least toast, life as we had known it was about to cease. Aunt Eunice left the room. We both thought better than to remind her that cutting the switch was carpenter’s work. She returned with two huge chunks of Fels-Naptha soap, which was not known for it’s culinary properties, and a small army of grown-ups. At least she didn’t have a switch.
"You boys think you’re so smart, start chewing! Now!"
Like Cool Hand Luke, we weren’t broken, but we were badly bent.
May you never have to taste Fels-Naptha soap! Ever! dd