A Tear

In high school, and for a time afterward I was macho, or at least I thought I was. Nothing could make me cry --- not a busted heart from a girl or s busted arm from an accident or a busted nose from a fight. I came close a time or two, like when I found myself in boot camp, far away from home and feeling so alone, but I was bound and determined that no one would ever see me break down, and that pledge lasted right up until my oldest son was born.

Now I can tear up at the drop of a hat, or a skinned knee. I got trained early on from my kids and its been reinforced all over again by my grand kids. I don't exactly blubber, but those little arms hugging my neck or the look on their face when I drop them off for the first day of first grade --- that "I'm a big boy now Dad, I can do this" look, and I just can't help getting misty eyed.

There have been other times too, obviously. Like when my Grandma passed and then again when Mom passed. Standing up there on that cold lonely hill looking at that fresh mound of dirt while someone sings 'Amazing Grace' will do that to you, or it does me. That particular song always brings a tear to my eye.

Then there's been the occasional beer tear. That old saying about taking the boy out of the country applies to me in spades. At times I still turn the radio dial to the nearest country station, especially if it plays the old stuff; the stuff we didn't always own up to listening to in high school. Sometimes on a far off military base I would go in the club and drop a few quarters in the jukebox and listen to a song that would take me back to Loudon and you folks.

It's 1977. The wind is blowing so hard outside that nobody is allowed to go out. The snow is piling up in drifts that partially bury some of the single story buildings. Everything that is familiar seems light years away. You sip your beer slowly as one of your selections start to play and almost everyone in the place gets a little bit quiet as Mel Street takes each of us back to wherever our homes are.

Smokey Mountain Memories is this week's oldie.