Tuesday May 2nd
It is a nice comfortable morning. The temperature is 61°. The winds are calm. I have a hard time calling it a spring morning though with the projected high going up into the mid ’80s.. or even higher.
Here lately I’ve been listening to a lot of Rodney Crowell. And I’m finding that I can get lost in the mindscapes his songs paint. And I know the reason his songs connect with me they reache all the way back to my beginnings. We share a growing up.. in a time, and a place that not many that I know of share. We are almost the same age and we grew up within a dozen miles of each other in the late ’50s and early ’60s.. him on the east side of Houston, me on the northwest side of Pasadena.
My house was second from the end of the block. By walking across the street and the bar ditch I was in Houston. Where we would swim in sand pits.. and climb Chinaberry trees.. body surf in the ditches after a rain…
So kind of like his song I shared a week or so ago about Telephone Road.. East Houston Blues speaks to the memories of the boy I once was. As I begin to pay attention to his songs.. To his storytelling.. To the myth he tells of his own beginnings … The more I feel entwined.. myth with myth..
Well it’s time to move on from the memories.. so y’all have a good day and I’ll catch y’all the other side.
