Ran originally in Sunday, November 29, 2020 editions of The Times and The News-Star

It was in the early 1990s that I retired from watching country music awards shows, which is about the same time most country music began going the way of the Pet Rock, the woolly mammoth, and any chance of a mandolin showing up on a network television show.

The decision was immediate. Reba McEntire—I’d loved “Little Rock” and “Somebody Should Leave” and “Have I Got a Deal for You”—came out dancing under these disco balls, choreographed backups dancing in shiny jumpsuits behind her, and Reba singing Aretha Franklin’s “R-E-S-P-E-C-T.” Who kidnapped all the country people?, I thought. What is …?

Aaaaaaaand … click. Good night Hollywood.

Of course, as Reba had many times warned me in song, “Somebody should leave,” and I suppose it had to be me. I was trending that way already since it was getting harder to find a Webb Pierce song on the radio than a good haircut; the disco balls and whatnot made it really easy to step away before anybody got hurt.

So it’s only by happenstance that I saw a piece of an awards show recently. It was a clip tagged to the end of the TV news and featured a feel-good piece in the face of an old friend, Charley Pride, singing “Kiss An Angel Good Morning.” The song isn’t one of my favorites but the artist was.

The event was a couple of weeks ago at the 2020 Country Music Association Awards. An 86-year-old Charley Pride performed that song and accepted the highly coveted lifetime achievement award during the 54^th annual CMA event.

He admitted during his humble acceptance speech to being very nervous. Remember that this is a guy who once pitched in the minor leagues, who was the CMA Entertainer of the Year in 1971, who earned 52 Top-10 hits on the Billboard Country chart beginning in 1966 and running through the 1980s; 30 of those were No. 1s.

Yet he was “very nervous.”

But maybe the nerves were from coming to the end of a long road and how historical it had been because of himself, one of the few Black entertainers to become members of the Grand Ole Opry.

He was a trailblazer during a tricky time in our nation’s history.

On one of his live albums, he tells the story of walking out on stage, the crowd quiet, wondering who this guy is, and then he starts singing, “Just Between You and Me,” and a woman on the front row yelling, “It’s true! It’s true!”

On the radio he was white. But in real-life, different ballgame. It took a little while those 50 years ago before everyone buying his records realized he was a black country star. Superstar, really.

I was 7 or 8 when my parents took us to see Pride in Fayetteville, North Carolina, by far the biggest social event I’d ever been a part of. Had a tough time sleeping that week, knowing daddy had the tickets in there in his sock drawer. And that night, that fabulous night, when he finally sang “Chrystal Chandelier,” I screamed like those crazy ladies at Conway Twitty concerts.

I am thankful for Charley Pride. He even drove over from his home in Dallas to Shreveport to sing the National Anthem at the Independence Bowl in December of 1978. Cool and humble customer.

As if you need more to discuss around the Thanksgiving leftovers table, here’s a quick Top 10 Charley Pride Songs, According to Me. And if you want to be happy, don’t forget to kiss an angel good morning.

10: “The Easy Part’s Over Now”—We’ve come to the end/The easy part’s over now/And the hard part begins.

9. “I Know One”—Only a fool would do it/After the way you’ve done/How many fools would have you?/I know one…
10. “Snakes Crawl at Night”—When the sun goes down, then the snakes will play. (Sort of a passive aggressive thing going on here.)
11. “Lovesick Blues”—Great cover of a Hank Williams hit.
12. “Kaw-Liga”—Even better cover of a Hank Williams song; the live version is the one to listen to.
13. “Is Anybody Going To San Antone”—Or Phoenix, Arizona/Anyplace is all right/As long as I/Can forget/ I’ve ever known her.
14. “Does My Ring Hurt Your Finger”—When you go out at night?
15. “Mississippi Cotton Pickin’ Delta Town”—One dusty street to walk up and down/Nothin’ much to do but just hang around…
16. “Just Between You and Me”—You’re too much to forget.
17. “Chrystal Chandelier”—Will the lively crowd/that had you laughing loud/help to dry your tears/when the new wears off/of your crystal chandelier.

Ran originally in Sunday, November 22, 2020 editions of The Times and The News-Star.

My spousal unit has a coffee cup the youngest of her four little brothers gave her last year that reads in script, “Focus ON THE GOOD.”

God did that very thing when he created the universe. The water was good. The dry ground was good. The vegetation. The birds of the air and the beasts of the field.

It was all good until he got to “man,” and then he realized this particular animal was going to need some help. “It is not good.” (I’m quoting here.) So for the male he created female—thank goodness— and now THAT was good, and a whole other story for another time.

The point is, we do a lot of complaining over our problems, but let’s face it: the vast majority of them are First World Problems.

I complain about the traffic. But I’m sitting in a car that’s paid for.

I complain about the weather that’s ruined my plans. But I have a house with heat and air.

I complain because my foot hurts. But at least I have a foot. Two actually, and one does NOT hurt.

Heard Paul Harvey say this one Sunday afternoon “in concert” at the Monroe Civic Center, late ’70s, when he was basically a rock star. You give people directions and you tell them to go to the first red light and take a left.

“That light is green,” he said, “as often as it’s red.”

The crowd exploded, reacted like fans when the home team scores a touchdown. (Back when there was football? Precious memories.) His point: we have programmed ourselves to look at the bad side of things. Spoiled.

As always, Paul Harvey was right. “Hello, Americans!”

Because of special circumstances, this has been a trying couple of weeks and a trying eight or so months. We each have a part in making things better. And we shouldn’t gloss over things we have the power to change for the better.

But the first step in that direction might be in doing what the Creator did. He “saw that it was good.” And even when we made His perfect world imperfect, he didn’t give up on us.

So we can’t give up on each other. We’re not going to get new people so … best learn to live and love, work and play with the ones we have.

It’s been an Interesting Few Months in America like it was an Interesting Few Years in America during The Revolution and The Great Depression and World War II and Vietnam. You’re always looking around wondering, “What was … what’s? … what in the world just happened?”

This is a feeling more familiar to males than to females because “What in the world just happened?” is our default position. (See above about man being created.) But still, this Current Time is a bit odd, even for us guys.

For Louisiana people, we had the pandemic and then the hurricanes and then The Election, and so much is happening it makes you feel as if you’re in the spin cycle. And not “spin” like on the news but spin like you’re in the Maytag with the socks and the underwear.

These are the times that try men’s souls. And soles. Walking the floor trying to make some sense of it all.

Whether you’re happy or sad about the election results, or sad at some and happy with others, in the Forever Picture, it makes no never mind. It’s all going to work out. In the meantime, if your dreamboat has struck a snag, here’s something to hold on to.

Gratitude. Focusing on the good.

I know. Sophomoric to most. But it really works. It’s the key.

An example: I read this week that one milestone of a happy marriage is when your wedding gifts begin wearing out and breaking down—and you’re still married. That’s a win. “Honey, the toaster we got from the Johnsons is shot, but we’ve made it almost 11 years!”

That light’s green as often as it’s red. So with that, Happy Thanksgiving. And if you can hang your hat on nothing else, on absolutely nothing else, be grateful that at least you’re not the turkey.

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