I WANNA BE A COUNTRY STAR

Author: Linda J. Hutchinson

Well, once again, Mom was drunk. Dad was flirting with the piano player, or the bass player, or the fiddle player, depending on the weekend. The house was filled with drunken musicians, musical instruments everywhere. Welcome to my early Sunday morning world at The Church of the Wannabe Country Music Stars in the late 1950’s and early 1960’s.

I couldn’t say it had always been like this. There were limits as to what could be harvested from my memory banks. I recognized some peace in that, but it wasn’t defined until later.

It was my job to empty the ashtrays, upright the beer bottles, and guard the only bathroom. There wasn’t a lock on the door. Somehow, there wasn’t time to install one, at least that’s what Dad said. I also kept everyone downstairs so they didn’t wake up the babies, whom I was in charge of.

Before the twins had been born, I believed I went everywhere with Dad. We hunted and fished and camped, did horse shows and rodeos, and water-skied. And we went to ‘jam’ sessions.

Every Sunday afternoon at the Glide Hall there was a ‘jam’. The roller skaters dodged the jitter-buggers in the middle. Dad was usually on the bandstand. Mom said that was good because she could keep an eye on him. When I got tired there was a pillow and blanket in the big bass case behind the drums. The other kids took their naps on benches lining the rink floor, in plain view of everyone.

We didn’t go to movies very often. One Thursday night as we backed out of our country lane to head into town, Dad misjudged where the telephone pole was and backed into it, cracking his head on the windshield. I had wanted to see Elvis Presley in “Blue Hawaii”, but we went to see “The Hank Williams Story”. That was after the trip to the hospital for stitches.

Getting up for school the next morning was a real chore. But we couldn’t go to the movies on Friday or Saturday night because they played music at the bar. I was just happy to get to go…even though I had no idea who Hank Williams was, even after seeing the movie.

As a teenager, I rebelled against country music. The Glide Hall was closed for safety reasons, and the only ‘jams’ were held in places I wasn’t old enough to get into. My parents divorced and the blue Pearl drums with the Brazilian cymbals, big bass, 1956 Gretsch guitar, amplifiers, microphones, and all the other things we used to pack into the station wagon, were relegated to Dad’s basement recreation room. I was free to listen to the Beatles, Rolling Stones, Animals, Troggs, and Herman’s Hermits to my heart’s content.

In the mid-eighties, my daughter was taking a music appreciation class. As we were driving down the street she remarked how she really didn’t like country music. I let the comment pass. Soon, she and her brother were singing along with every tune on the radio.

It amazes me that any of us, the children of country music star wannabes back then, grew up to be sane. Somehow, we did and became doctors and lawyers, fire fighters and police officers, mill workers, webmasters, painters, construction workers, and teachers. There are a few actors, a few drunks, and preacher or two. Some of us grew up to be writers, so the story could be told.

Linda J. Hutchinson is a freelance writer and copywriter who divides her time between a small farm in TN and wherever her husband is putting up a commercial building. She has written numerous press releases, newspaper, trade journal, and magazine articles. A mystery novel set in her home state of Washington is in process. www.lindajhutchinson.com