Thomas Fletcher (fletch31526) wrote,
Thomas Fletcher
fletch31526

WNL-XVIII: "Nothing makes a sound in the night like the wind does"

Summer is now upon us here in The South. Every year, we act surprised as winter ends, spring sprints past us and summer plops its fat, lazy ass right on top of our heads. It's common in these parts to say that we don't get a spring -- and that's sort of true. Mother Nature manages to give us a month or so of beautiful temperatures, but we usually spend too much time dodging tornadoes to enjoy it. I know that was the case this year.

It's easy to complain -- especially as a man of size -- about the hot temperatures of summer. I can see into the bowels of summer from where I sit and the news isn't good. Going into this thing, you can be certain that there will be chafing involved at some point... And we'll be sweating it out until sometime in late October. I own a calendar. That's a long time from now. I don't own any Gold Bond. I might need to remedy that.

Perhaps I've applied some sort of nostalgic glaze over things, but my memories of summers past never seem as hot as they were while living them in real time. One set of memories in particular is that of my original childhood home. I'm pretty sure I was miserable at the time, but I now look back fondly on summer nights spent with a box fan in the window and the smell of honeysuckle on the fence row outside my bedroom. It's a memory that comes back on nights like tonight, when it's still 80+ degrees as the clock approaches midnight. It's a memory that comes back every time I hear Don Williams sing about the soft southern winds in the live oak trees and the smell of cape jasmine through the window screen.

This week's WNL is Good Ole Boys Like Me.

When I was a kid, Uncle Remus, he put me to bed
With a picture of Stonewall Jackson above my head
Then daddy came in to kiss his little man
With gin on his breath and a Bible in his hand
He talked about honor and things I should know
Then he'd stagger a little as he went out the door

I can still hear the soft Southern winds in the live oak trees
And those Williams boys, they still mean a lot to me -- Hank and Tennessee
I guess we're all gonna be what we're gonna be
So what do you do with good ole boys like me?

Nothing makes a sound in the night like the wind does
But you ain't afraid if you're washed in the blood like I was
The smell of cape jasmine through the window screen
John R. and the Wolfman kept me company
By the light of the radio by my bed
With Thomas Wolfe whispering in my head

I can still hear the soft Southern winds in the live oak trees
And those Williams boys, they still mean a lot to me -- Hank and Tennessee
I guess we're all gonna be what we're gonna be
So what do you do with good ole boys like me?

When I was in school I ran with kid down the street
But I watched him burn himself up on bourbon and speed
But I was smarter than most and I could choose
Learned to talk like the man on the six o'clock news
When I was eighteen, Lord, I hit the road
But it really doesn't matter how far I go

I can still hear the soft Southern winds in the live oak trees
And those Williams boys, they still mean a lot to me -- Hank and Tennessee
I guess we're all gonna be what we're gonna be
So what do you do with good ole boys like me?


(Here's the link to the song if the embeded player doesn't load.)

Tags: lyrics, public, wnl
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