Friday Afternoon Interlude (More Jerry Reed Edition)
About 3 weeks ago, I ordered an obscure CD by a 90’s college band from Minneapolis I’d heard on a compilation, from one of Amazon’s partner sites, and figured I might as well check a few more things off my wishlist to save on shipping and packaging. I definitely skewed the supplementals toward country flavors, adding Gram Parsons, Flatt and Scruggs, and Jerry Reed to the order.
It turns out that the merchant has over a hundred stores, and they ship the CD’s from wherever they dig ‘em up. Shipping came to almost $18 for 6 CD’s, which was kind of shocking, and they dripped and dribbled in over the course of a few weeks. So much for efficiency.
The side effect of having them come in one at a time, every couple days, for 3 weeks was that I forgot what had come in and what remained after the second week or so. The last one to come in, on Tuesday night, was The Essential Jerry Reed. Just in time to say goodbye, I suppose.
There’s been other events of importance in the news this week. F’rinstance, I hear the Republicans partied in Minnesota, and the local authorities are having their own party, aided by $50 million in Homeland Security grants, declaring open season on vegetarians and doing their best impression of the Ministry of Information security teams from Brazil. New Orleans, anticipating a haymaker from Gustav, thankfully only suffered a jab.
Etcetera, etcetera. I’m finding it harder and harder to follow “real news”, fatigued from the combination of maddening content and celebritastic infotaining messengers. But news of Jerry Reed’s passing got my attention.
It’s taken me back to my midwestern roots, circa late 1970’s, when I saw it in the theater, and kicked up a bunch of other memories as well. Memories of watching Hee-Haw, Andy Griffith, and Hogan’s Heroes with my mom’s family in West Peoria, sitting at TV trays in the living room with plates full of pot roast and mashed potatoes. I can see Johnny Horton and Beverly Sills at the front of the stacks of albums behind Grampa’s chair. I see Andy, a beagle that Gramma and Grampa would eventually feed to death. And I see my Gramma, nested on the couch with a pack of Tareyton’s and her ash tray. I miss her, too.
Burt Reynolds, Sally Field, and the legendary Jackie Gleason were the driving stars of Smokey and the Bandit. But whenever I watch it, it’s Jerry Reed’s performance as Cledus “Snowman” Snow that fires signals up those forgotten neural pathways.
This weekend, the wife and kids and I were going to ride Sylvie and Nigel up the C&O Canal Path for 20 or so miles, camp for the night, and come back Sunday morning. But it looks like tropical storm Hanna will be visiting the greater DC area starting tonight and lasting through Saturday night, so maybe instead I’ll try and find some Coors and watch Smokey and the Bandit again. Why not, Ruby’s ready, and there’s nothing in this world that Huck loves so much as trucks, trucks trucks!
On a side note, isn’t it strange to hear a movie trailer that doesn’t feature the voice of Don LaFontaine? Gonna be weird to get used to that again.
Music! Okay, dug up another video of Jerry Reed and Chet Atkins. Here they are performing Muleskinner Blues, enjoy.
Have a great weekend, y’all.
Tags: Entertaining Interludes
