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.
