Monthly Archives: December 2018

Yesterday & Tomorrow

My old journals are stacked on my desk at ETSU, and I’ve been looking through them the past couple of weeks and posting some entries for Throwback Thursdays. Maybe it’s having turned 60 on 25 November that pushes me through the pages of old handwriting and lived life. I don’t know. Anyway, what jumped out at me just now (as I should have been doing something else) were two different entries: one dated 21 December 1981, another dated 23 December 1989. The first is short and the second is long, but I’ll edit both a little bit here.

Captain’s Log / Stardate 8112.21 [December 21, 1981 — a Monday]

Well, it’s a little more than tomorrow for the news, almost a week I guess. [This refers to a short entry dated 8112.15 or December 15, 1981, which reads as follows: Today was the day of the signing! However, we had a long, hard ride back home, so I’ll get sleep first and give details tomorrow . . . Thy will be done] We hit Earl’s office around 10:30 AM and talked over some plans for the album. We then signed the papers and papers and picked up our money ($1500 for me!). Before leaving for home, we stopped at Red Lobster for a pig session. The ride home was a lot of fun and since then I’ve been here at the house trying to write some and in Asheville trying to get my Christmas shopping done . . . remember the real Christmas

In the above, “We” is Ron Weathers and I. He was my manager at the time. “Earl” is Earl Richards (aka Earl Sinks), who had been something of a jack-of-all-trades in the music business. He had some historical connection to Buddy Holly in Texas. He’d written and recorded some records (check out “Margie, Who’s Watching the Baby”). He’d starred in at least one music-based movie (That Tennessee Beat). The papers signed amounted to a publishing contract for my songs and songwriting and a production contract for recording; the latter led to, among other things, two albums recorded but never released. I don’t remember what the first one was to be called (maybe Fiesta), but the second one was Waiting for the Night.

Then came eight years of living. . . .

Captain’s Log / Saturday December 23, 1989

It is my first Christmas as a family man. I don’t know if it is this or my age of 31, but I’ve thought little about what I might get for Christmas. I seem to be waiting for Leesa’s reaction to what I give her and Lane’s reaction to what Leesa and I give him. It’s a good feeling. Still it has all been so hectic, I’ve not had time enough to focus on the meaning of Christmas. No time enough to think on the wonder of the Christ child being born again into the world and my life.

But into this world, in this season, it is not a silent night. Christmas will hear celebration and mourning. There will be celebration in East Germany where the wall has come down! Communism has fallen there, in Poland, in Hungary, and in Czechoslovakia. In most of these places, a socialist/democratic society will replace the former government. This wonderful event in Eastern Europe was brought about by the Soviet’s opening up. Gorbachev is fighting the old line communist history and is trying to begin a new ear in that part of the world. It has been an amazing time of change since October and it continues. Celebration and mourning mix today in Romania [I actually wrote Rumania]. The people there have risen up against their Dracula-type leader and they have finally broken the government, although not without a great deal of bloodshed. Most of the other countries accomplished their victories without killing, but in [Romania] thousands have died, most of them killed by their former leader’s private police.

Closer to home, four days ago, President Bush sent several thousand of our armed forces to invade Panama. An American serviceman was killed last week and so Bush retaliated with this. The main objective was to capture dictator Noriega and place a democratic government in power. The latter was shakily accomplished but seems to be getting its legs under it. Noriega, however, was not captured and the Panamanians are not excited about what has happened and probably will not be until N. is captured. I know Bush’s idea was to take the American serviceman’s death as opportunity to kick Panama’s dictator out, but after all the uplifting progress in Eastern Europe, the Panamanian incident seems ill-times and a slap in the face of the world spirit.* [*Also, the world turned its eyes from the life and death struggle in Rumania to watch the fiasco in Panama, just at the time Rumanians needed world support. I admire those people for pushing their cause through in spite of P. Bush.] I realize there is little human-made peace her on earth but I can’t help wondering what is the harm in hope.

On the home front, uncle June, Amos Kenneth Reeves, died in Michigan on Thursday December 14. He had problems over the last couple of years but still, the death was sudden. Ernie spoke with him Monday 12/11 and all was well. Mom spoke with him Wednesday evening 12/13 and he sounded fine but for a little short of breath. He ate breakfast Thursday morning with Eileen and great-granddaughter, Lisa, then laid down on the couch and soon began gasping for breath. First Eileen, then the paramedics worked on him before he got to the hospital. He was mostly dead all day and had a very unconscious struggle. Mom and Dad, JD, Mac[k], and Ernie left midday Friday 12/15 and had bad weather and traffic all the way and didn’t arrive in Port Huron until mid-afternoon Sunday. Jerry and I left around 7am from Walnut and got to Ken’s house in Marysville around 8pm. Ken had been taking his father’s death pretty hard but Jerry’s presence seemed to calm him quite a bit. I didn’t want to make the trip at first, having a strong dislike for funerals, but I’m glad I went and I think the family was glad I was there. I will always remember June as laughing and singing and telling stories. I have a wonderful remembrance of him. A few months ago he sent me a tape of himself singing some old gospel and western and Appalachian tunes.

Mack had a prayer at the funeral but said some wonderful things before he prayed. It was a picture of the Reeves boys with June in the center, having the most likeness of character to Papa who begat them all. I sometimes wonder how Mack can do things like that without faltering. Is it strength? Distance? Practice? Showmanship? Sheer talent? I am hoping it is a combination of the first and last. Jerry and I could neither do such a chore, being emotional and choked-up almost to a fault. I cry easily at stupid things and find more strength for worthwhile things. I don’t know that Jerry falters at the stupid, but he chokes completely when the situation is intensely touching. Why are we like that, the both of us?

. . . My biggest dread was not so much arriving in Michigan to the sorrow caused by June’s death, but rather knowing I could not leave without going to see Rod, my older cousin with MS. He’s had the disease for eight years and it has progressed rapidly. He has no use of his legs, vision is bad, speech slurred, head, arm, and hands shake uncontrollably at times. My fears of seeing him was not so much in the disease as in the difference. I last saw him when he was whole and had his family in Walnut. His wife, Diane, sat on the porch with Rod and me until very late. We talked of so many things and established a bond that was never formed when he used to chase and catch and torture me. Still, seeing him was not what I had figured it to be. Beyond all the disease has done to him, he is still the same personality and it wasn’t very long before we laughed and I felt more at ease. I will see him again without so much dread.

Married life is great. The career has its moments. I will write of these tomorrow perhaps, or at least within the next week. It is 2:28am on a busy Christmas Eve and I need to get some sleep. . . .

Half a lifetime ago! Leesa and I are on the verge of spending our 29th Christmas together as married folk. Lane is 42 and Raleigh, less than two years from being born when the later entry above was written, is 27. Gone since December 1989 are my uncles JD and Mack, their Michigan brothers and sisters not mentioned above (Doc, Evoline, and Harold), and cousin Rod, whom I never saw again.

It is Christmas time again, but it’s a lot different. Maybe more on that in a few days.

Reeves_MJJeD

Throwback Thursday, Dec. 13

Here’s another excerpt from my Captain’s Log for December 13. This time it’s again from 1977, so I was toward the end of my first semester as a music major (flute) at Mars Hill College.

Captain’s Log: Stardate 121.377 [December 13, 1977]
I’m at home, in bed, with a cold Mountain Dew. This is the life! I took my theory test today and just come on home. Unless I was carless [sic] in what I was doing, I think I did OK., I can recall only two places where she may count me wrong. Anyway I came home, unloaded the car and went to Joe’s ballgame. They played well and won 80-64, it was great.
I’m really not out of school yet. Thursday [December 13 in 1977 fell on a Tuesday] I’ll have to take some critiques to George, pay a bill at the bookstore, and get the rest of my clothes. We’re going to do our cantata tomorrow night for the Presbyterian Church in Marshall. Lord willing it will bless us and the congregation and lift up the name of God as much as it did last Sunday. Jobie’s gonna come record the ceremony if it’s all right with everyone. Well it’s been a long day . . . . I thank God for every minute of it.

In November 1977, I turned 19 years old, so I was just three weeks or so into that age. I don’t really remember what classes I took, but I’m guessing that the George mentioned was George Peery, iconic political science professor at Mars Hill College for more than 30 years. I remember that some of my dorm mates and I spent many of our lunchtimes watching The Gong Show. I’m sure that I had flute lessons and band and, as suggested above, a music theory class. I think my previous post from that year mentioned a math class. I probably had English as well — freshman composition. I remember having Dr. Pat Verhulst for one of my composition classes. Sometime early in the semester I had her for an instructor, maybe when I turned in my second essay, she took me aside and said, “You don’t have to come back anymore.” That was cool for a young writer like myself.

Hurricane Help

I bought a copy of Whose Boat Is This Boat? and contributed to helping people and areas hit hard by Hurricanes Florence and Michael. The creators and publisher of the book are donating 100% of the proceeds via the various organizations working with hurricane victims and devastated areas: Foundation for the Carolinas, One SC Relief Fund, North Carolina Disaster Relief Fund, World Central Kitchen, and Florida Disaster Relief Fund.

This week, Stephen Colbert made a big announcement about how much purchasers of the book have contributed to the relief cause in this fun way:

Throwback Thursday

I thought I’d wander back through diaries that I kept on and off for several years and see what I could find with today’s date, 6 December. I found a couple: one from 1977 and one from 1981. Both are back in my Trekkie days, which were, admittedly, not fanatically so. I liked the show but didn’t let it take over my life. I called my diary Captain’s Log and used a few different dating systems, both of which are translated with the transcriptions below. I’m going to try not to edit the writing, so that my mistakes in spelling and grammar stand.

Captain’s Log: 120.677 [December 6, 1977]
It’s 8:00 AM and snowing. It really looks good. I told Phil on Saturday that it was gonna snow today. I hope to pass all of my tests and go to ballgame tonight. At the ballgame I hope to see Madison beat Reynolds and Leesa. . . . Lord, be my guide this day
Captain’s Log: Supplimental
Today has ended rather boring, but well. I made 84 on my Math 110 test so I’m out of there with an 87.
It continued snowing and freezing the rest of the day so the games were called (I didn’t get to see Leesa). We all sat around tonight listening to music then watching “Houston, We’ve Got a Problem” . . . . God be praised!!!

Okay, so I was a first-semester freshman music major (flute) at Mars Hill College when I wrote this. I was living on campus in Spilman Hall. My roommate was Johnny Sawyer, with whom I’d grown up in Walnut. He was hardly ever there, so it was like having a private room. The Phil mentioned is Phil Shuford, who lived across the hall with his roommate Yogi Something. I don’t know where Yogi is, but Phil lives in Ozark, Missouri. We’re friends on Facebook. The math course I reference was an early computer course, in which we learned to create those punched cards that were the apps of 1977. And in those MHC days, Leesa was in my heart and mind but not with me. She’d begun her career at Creative Hair Design in Asheville and was working hard to build a clientele and support herself and Lane, who was seventeen months old at the time.

Captain’s Log Stardate 8112.06 [December 6, 1981]
As seems almost usual for me on Sunday morning, I woke up ill at the world. The Lord knows how hard it is for me to get up before 11 AM. I almost decided not to go to church, like every Sunday, thinking that I got nothing from the small, country service. Then I realised, as always, that they are my people and, even though I may get nothing from the service but seeing them and feeling their friendship, that is enough. Then I also come face-to-face with the fact that the singing I dread with such passion is for them and not for me, and that, being graciously given the gift from God, it is my duty to sing for them. It should also be my desire to do so. Well, Allen met me at the door asking if what he heard about me signing with Capitol was true and he was followed closely by Butch asking the same. I quickly gave them my practiced explanation about Townhouse but they were still pleased. When time for me to sing came around, as I was getting my guitar, Raymond spoke up about my struggles with my music and my witness for the church and my hopefully impending record deal. Then totally unexpectedly he suggested a standing ovation for me and I was overwhelmed. If it is not the Lord’s will for me that this all go through all right, He sure is planning to teach me a great lesson in disappointment. Even at that, though, this morning was a great blessing, and I am very thankful for all those people there.
As far as my music and my career go, I am constantly trying to ask with a sincere heart that the Father’s Will be done and not my own. I could live with losing this deal but not with going against His plans for me.
Oh, in church I sang “A SONG FOR CAROLINA” and “DEAR MOTHER”.
The rest of the day was the usual big chicken dinner and lazy Sunday afternoon. I did, however, add music to and edit some lyrics I wrote last night called “DO YOU EVER MISS ME”
We practiced for the Christmas program this evening then I returned home to watch “YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN” on the tube.
As always it is quite late as I write this so I’ll sign off for now…MC…”Dear Mother, I know He’ll come again”

I’d left Mars Hill College two years before, December 1979, in the middle of my junior year, and transferred to Belmont College in Nashville for the spring semester of 1980, to study music business. But it was too much business and not enough music, so I stayed only one semester before transferring to UNC-Asheville–as an English major–for half the fall semester of that year before quitting altogether. I lived at home in Walnut, writing songs and playing solo at different events and venues around the area. I had a manager named Ron Weathers, who worked out of Asheville, and we’d spent some time in Nashville, where Earl Richards recorded my songs for his publishing and production companies. Earl had cut a deal with Townhouse Records, which was distributed by Capitol Records, and my first album was in the works.

The Townhouse/Capitol thing eventually fell through. Although I probably still have the lyric somewhere, I don’t remember anything about “Do You Ever Miss Me”; most likely it was a Leesa lyric. I remember singing “A Song for Carolina” at a couple of big events, one of which was the ceremony in Raleigh, North Carolina, celebrating Liston B. Ramsey’s ascension to Speaker of the state’s House of Representatives, but again, I remember little about it. “Dear Mother” I still perform now and then.

Words & Music by . . .

Monthly Archives: December 2018