Mark is on his way home from working at a Snyder Bike Rally and doing the stage things for Ray Sawyer. If you don’t know the name Ray Sawyer, you probably know the name Dr. Hook and the Medicine Show, or just Dr. Hook. I’m jealous he got to see them. I have always been a fan. “Sylvia’s Mother” was one of my very first 45s. Maybe the very first I picked out and bought. Then, when I was in college, I stood up to a LOT of derision from my KWTS 91 jocks and program directors Jamey and Randy because I liked the song “Sharing the Night Together.” They were trying to move my tastes in a new direction, but I tend to like what I like and I went out and bought the album. I wonder if I still have it?
Mark said that Ray Sawyer was a great entertainer and played a show just full of all of his hits and other songs from the era. Mark said they did “I Got Stoned and I Missed It.” I hadn’t thought of that song in years and I wasn’t even sure that was Dr. Hook, bu, yes, I looked it up and found it on youtube. I think that is the right version. I haven’t heard it in 30 years so I can’t be 100%, but I found lots of BAD cover versions and I know they were wrong. It’s a funny song and I wonder why morning shows (at least) don’t play it now from time to time.
Dr. Hook is probably mostly known for “Cover of the Rolling Stone” (… well we’re big rock singers and we got golden fingers and we’re loved everywhere we go… that sounds like us!) I listened to it at work a couple of months ago and could still sing, and say, every lyric. And I did, at full volume, much to my co-workers’ dismay. While I had the list of all the Dr. Hook we had in our computer (which didn’t include “I Got Stoned,” which is why I forgot it was by them) I listened to every other song by them I could: “Sexy Eyes,” “When You’re In Love With A Beautiful Woman,” “A Little Bit More,” and it seems like there were a couple more I can’t think of at the moment. “Only Sixteen,” that’s the one I forgot (among others).
Jance Garfat. I think that was another member of Dr. Hook and the Medicine Show. I only remember that because of the name Jance. I liked it. I tried to figure out if anyone would ever call me Jance if I changed my name. That’s a good boy’s name. Next nephew I have, I think I’ll name him Jance.
Mark took this gig and made the drive so he could eat at Allen’s in Sweetwater. I’ve written about Allen’s before (Dec 2007 if you want to look it up) and it is the best food in the world. He ate at the buffet restaurant on Friday night and was a little disappointed, so he ate at the sit-down, family-style today and it was perfect.
Last night Mark said he was going to go today and he didn’t care if it was Sunday and he had to sit on the lap of some 90-year-old woman, he was going to eat at their tables.
Fortunately, no old ladies had that thrill, and he had a great meal. He called to tell me about the people he shared his table with. A woman and her very old father (“He looked like he was 120.”) discussed with Mark the fact that they had been to Tyler and “that town is so big!” Another very fat family, you see a lot of that at Allen’s, with a little fat girl, and fat parents, and a fat, funny grandpa, also shared the table. The grandpa like the place for the vegetables. “Restaurants just don’t serve good vegetables anymore.” He’s got a point. But I will continue to stuff myself on a full chicken when I go to Allen’s.
Mark said his opening line with the folks at his table was, “Are you folks from Sweetwater?” When they said yes, he said, “You don’t know how lucky you are.” I suggested that maybe we should plan for a retirement in Sweetwater, but that didn’t sound good to Mark, even with the lure of Allen’s. We’ll just have to plan enough retirement funds to have someone drive us up there every year or two.
Mark was driving past Stink Creek when he called, just outside Sweetwater. I told him I was aware of Stink Creek being there because of Ripley’s Believe It Or Not. My dad used to have a “toy box” with some of the precious things from his childhood. It usually was in the attic or the garage and occasionally he would open it up for us. It had the most amazing tin dancing cat. I vividly recall the garage at our house in Amarillo (so I was 5 or less) and Daddy winding up that dancing cat and letting me and Mackie and the neighbor kids, too, witness the dancing cat. Daddy never threw away anything, ever, so I went looking for that cat when he died. I knew that in later years it wouldn’t dance anymore, it couldn’t keep its balance like it had. But when I found the toy box I didn’t find the dancing cat. I still wonder where it could have gone.
But also in that box, and that’s where I was headed with this story, were Daddy’s Little Big books. In the 30s, Little Big books were quite the thing, I guess. The books were maybe 5 inches tall and 4 inches wide, but about an inch and a half thick. So very thick compared to their small size. Inside each page had a cartoon-style picture on the left and the story on the right. They were great children’s books. Daddy had several. Dick Tracy. A cowboy, Red something? I think those are all very valuable today IF you have a good copy. Sadly, Daddy had two little girls who LOVED those Little Big books. Our favorite was a Ripley’s Believe It or Not.
In that Ripley’s, it had that interesting fact that Sweetwater. Texas, is located on Stink Creek! Believe it or not!!!!
Okay, that was one of the facts that Mackie and I learned, but didn’t pay much mind to. The pages that got worn out were the gruesome ones. Most distinctly, I remember a page with a picture — not a “real” picture, but a line drawing — of a skull with a crowbar angled through it. A man had been in an explosion that drove a crowbar THROUGH HIS SKULL and he continued to live (for years, as I recall). His skull was then put on display at some museum. BELIEVE IT OR NOT!!
And the Ripley’s book had the story of the Winchester Mystery House. Have you ever heard of it? It, definitely, is a true story. The woman who was married to the man who invented the Winchester gun (Mr. Winchester) built a house in San Francisco. I think she and her husband had begun construction when he died. A seer or psychic told her that she (Mrs. W) wouldn’t die as long as the house was under construction and not finished. So she continued to have construction going on for years and years and YEARS. The house has doors that go nowhere, stairs that go nowhere, hundreds of rooms. I know a lot of these details now because the first time I went to San Francisco, I made sure to go see the Winchester Mystery House. I think the admission was $20 or something crazy at the time, but I still paid and took the long tour. It was amazing. I remember a sewing room that was big and every wall was solid drawers, each big, wide, and deep, for keeping material. I wanted it. I am going to go look that house up on the internet and read about it. It still fascinates me. And yes, I do believe that when construction stopped, she died.
Memories memories. There’s no telling what memories will pop up. If I were ever to go to a psychiatrist that plays that word association game where he says a word and you say the first word that pops into your head? He would probably say “apple” and I would go into a 20-minute story about being raised on Red Delicious apples and hating them and then discovering that there were other varieties in this world and particularly liking the tartness of the Granny Smith and then when I learned to make a good apple pie….
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And an update on Nathan Jr. for those of you that only read and don’t hear from me. Nathan still okay, but I sense that he is tired and a little weak. He slept in the guest room last night. He was so content there when I went to bed I didn’t move him. This morning I went in and laid down by him and talked to him a while. He was flicking his tail and purring. Then he sat up on his haunches and watched me for a minute or two. I thought he was going to head to the kitchen, demanding breakfast. Instead he laid back down, but this time closer to me so he was touching me. Then he laid his little head down on my shoulder and closed his eyes and purred. Then reached out his paw to pat me. If that cat isn’t trying to tell me it will all be okay, I don’t know how else to interpret it.
