“He is so nice!”

“She is an angel here on earth!”

“We should have known that (insert name here) would do the right thing…”

These are just a few examples of exclamations that I wish had been said about me.  I have always wanted to be nice.  Even if it was just for a day…

But, as you are likely aware, being nice is a difficult proposition.  I’m not talking about the random act of kindness as I contend that we are all capable of sporadic kindness.   So when I say ‘being nice’, I’m talking about an actual lifestyle. It must be difficult because I don’t know too many people who might qualify.  Occasionally l cross paths with a person that I place in that ‘just pretty darned nice’ category.  Sometimes it is a waitress that wears a clear mask so that patrons can read her lips, sometimes it is a clerk in a store that walks you to the item you are seeking rather than simply saying “aisle four”, and  sometimes it is a child that smiles warmly as they take the hand of another who clearly needs their hand held. 

Oh, to be nice…

I talked to my friend Wade today.  Wade is one of the luckiest, unlucky guys you might ever meet.  He has been through a lot in his lifetime, but recently an irritating backache became an emergency.

Wade lives on a ranch in rural Texas. When the pain moved from irritating to ‘get me a shot of whiskey’ he was transported to the nearest regional hospital emergency room. It was quickly determined that my friend needed expert help that could only be offered at a major medical center. A tear in an artery was compromising viability…

Did I mention that Wade was suddenly considering the whiskey shot while watching a rare Texas snow storm roll across the prairie? Calls were made. Air Ambulance denials were issued. The weather was simply too choppy to send a helicopter. More calls were made. And finally…a willing participant.

Seven days later, Wade was excused from the ICU.   I won’t bore you with the details but my friend of fifty years is promising to hang around a little longer to watch the next rare snowstorm roll across the Texas prairie.  

Maybe today Wade is wondering what I am wondering…on the morning of January the 8th, did the Pilot Trayne, the Flite Medic Michael, and the Flite Nurse Curt wake up and think ‘today, I’m going to do something nice?’ or are they living the lifestyle?  

I think I know.   It reminds me of a song that I remember from the late eighties/early nineties.  So, because I am so grateful to still have a friend named Wade, and because the world needs more inspiration to be nice (even if it is just for one day) I’ll tilt this glass of bourbon in honor of you Curt, and Michael, and Trayne as I recall this line that Bette Midler made famous…  

Did you ever know that you’re my hero
And everything I would like to be?

Thanks for listening!

Your friend,

KBM

Kevin Medlin
kevin@mysilentpew.com
1-29-21

On January the 8^th, I made my annual proclamation that Elvis is actually alive and celebrating his birthday eating peanut butter and ‘nana sandwiches somewhere in the backwoods of Tennessee.  I did this before my thoughts drifted to my grandmother Rada who passed away on January the 8^th, eight years ago.  She was a one-of-a-kind and I don’t just mean that she had a unique name.  She did…but my grandmother Rada mixed a healthy dose of ‘down-home’, ‘tough-as-nails’, with a good dose of ‘love your family’ mixed in.

Rada absolutely loved Bob Wills and his ‘Western Swing’ style of music.  She told me once that when she heard Bob Wills start to play a song, her feet could not help but to pick up the rhythm and that she always wanted to dance when she heard him play.  She was more than eighty years old at the time.

In my day, her love of Bob Wills and his music would have been akin to teenagers screaming and crying when The Beatles came to America or young women tossing undergarments onto stage when Elvis played concerts.  We are talking 24 karat gaga. 

I grew up hearing New San Antonio Rose, Faded Love, Take Me Back to Tulsa and a host of others on the Cowtown Jamboree while visiting her home, so I have warm memories Bob Wills.  In my memory he will always wear a ten-gallon hat, hold a fiddle, and tap out the beat with shiny boots.  There is a reason that he was known as the ‘King of Western Swing’.

Obviously, I have not heard any Bob Wills music in the past few years, but I can still play a good portion of his music on my mental jukebox and still make out his trademark ‘Ah-Ha’.  This year on January the 8^th, I thought of my grandmother Rada and a Waylon Jennings classic from my day, Bob Willis Is Still the King.

One line from Waylon’s classic is:

I grew up on music that we call western swing,

It don’t matter who’s in Austin, Bob Wills is still the King!

Amen to that…

It is hard to believe that it has been eight years.  But it is comforting to know that Bob Wills can still play on my mental jukebox and take me back to Saturday nights with Rada watching the Cowtown Jamboree.  So, I think today I will drop in a quarter and punch in New San Antonio Rose so I can appreciate that famous first line.

Deep within my heart lies a melody…

I bought Teddy a picture book for Christmas this year.  My grandson Teddy, doesn’t read yet.  He is sixteen months old.

I say ‘bought Teddy’, but more accurately I might rephrase as, ‘bought myself’ a picture book for Christmas this year.  The book is a colorful presentation of the song “What a Wonderful World” that Louis Armstrong made famous in 1967.  It’s a simple song that lends itself well to bright pages and easy to understand phrases.  

I have always loved “What a Wonderful World” although I have never considered myself too ‘musical’.  Now that I am deaf, I realize that music played a much bigger role in my life than I previously imagined.  Sure, I am aware that I never captured a sense of rhythm and couldn’t carry a tune any more than I could lift a tractor, but I can see now that I liked what I liked, and now…I miss music.

I liked show tunes, Elvis gospel, Kris Kristofferson, Wille Nelson, all kinds of Christmas music, and of course, Louis Armstrong.

This past Christmas I had a great time reading to Teddy from our new picture book while mentally replaying Satchmo on the Hi-Fi.  I hope he likes our new book.  It’s hard to tell with a sixteen month old grandson.  Going forward, I think I might paraphrase a few lines to see if I can capture his attention…

I hear Teddy cry,
I watch him grow,
He’ll learn more,
Than I’ll ever know.
And I’ll think to myself,
What a Wonderful World.

Maybe someday he will hear a recording of Louis Armstrong and he will have warm memories of Papa sing-songing through my favorite picture book with him.

And someday, when we meet up yonder…maybe I will enjoy hearing Louis Armstrong sing again. 

And I will think to myself, What a Wonderful World!
Yes, I’ll think to myself…What a Wonderful World!