This was not the news I needed tonight (3:58am as I write this). Dad went into the Army to get out of his house, because his stepmom was a bitch and he had had enough. So, he joined the military, became a paratrooper for the 101st Airborne, and served for four years. He did all his service in the South, and as you might imagine, did so with a lot of good ol’ boys, spending many a weekend at some Kentucky or Tennessee hole-in-the-wall honkey tonk. Thus, Dad liked country music, and brought a liking for some of those classic artists back up North with him when he got discharged.
I heard a lot of Kenny Rogers growing up. When we went to Sunny Hill in upstate New York? Rogers was a listening staple. Kenny Rogers albums and cassettes and yes, eventually CDs were perfect birthday or Xmas gifts. Can’t count the number of times Jimmy Capo played “The Gambler” with our parents singing along at night outside the rooms where the adults had set up their mini bar. Ahh, the Grimstad.
Hearing that the gambler broke even tonight soured my mood immeasurably. Don’t think there’s enough incense in SWFL to burn away my mood, and I’ve been returning to the screenplay and plugging away as hard as I can, but…it’s hard. Especially with it being the week of Dad’s birthday. Real hard. So, all I can say is, Rest well, Brewster Baker. Thanks for all the killer tunes. You and I alone need know when I last sang “The Gambler…” out loud, and how much I appreciate that tune.