Newspaper Page Text
Page 4 — Wednesday, January 10, 2024, The True Citizen
OPINIONS
★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★
The Pledge Of Allegiance
1 pledge, allegiance, to the flag
of the United States of America
and to the Republic for which
*it stands, one Nation under
God, indivisible, with liberty and
justice for all.
★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★
LOOKING BACK
{this week in Burke County history}
20 YEARS AGO-JANUARY 14,2004
Former Waynesboro mayor and state representative
George DeLoach announced he would be a candidate for
the Georgia House of Representatives 100th district held
by Alberta Anderson, also of Waynesboro.
A gala homecoming was being planned for the home
coming of Waynesboro’s Charlie Battery of the Georgia
National Guard’s 214th Field Artillery. The unit had been
on deployment since March of 2003.
William Mizell Ford was Advertising new 2004 Ranger
XLT pickups for $12,856 after rebates.
50 YEARS AGO-JANUARY 9,1974
Torbit Banks, Charles Darling and Mrs. Pat Blount
were newly appointed members of the Waynesboro-Burke
county Recreation Commission. George Palmer was re
elected as chairman of the panel.
Mothers March of Dimes Chairman Jesse Palmer, III
announced that the annual event would take place Jan.
15. More than 75 volunteers would take part in the annual
fund raising effort to battle birth defects.
Waynesboro native John Reese Franklin announced
the formation of a partnership to practice law in Nash
ville, Ga. He was the son of the late Frances Franklin of
Waynesboro.
70 YEARS AGO-JANUARY 14,1954
Lamar Allen, chairman of the Civic Improvement Com
mittee, announced that more than $7,000 had been raised
for the construction of a community swimming pool. He
said additional funds would be needed but that enough
had been raised to begin the project.
The entry of 61 dogs made the 1954 Georgia Field Tri
als the largest in the event in the history of the association.
Association President Joe Reynolds acted as host for the
trials,which featured the top trainers in the county.
Southern Bell announced that 56 telephones had been
added to the City of Waynesboro during 1953, bringing
the total to 1,561.
“The Actress” starring Spencer Tracy was playing at
the Grand Theatre.
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Don Lively
UP THE HILL
It was just a little clapboard
house that sat on a rise, just off
the main highway in our neck
of the woods.
It was one ridge over toward
the river from our house and if
there hadn’t been woods block
ing the view, we could have
seen it from our yard.
It wasn’t very big back then,
just a few rooms, but the size of
it didn’t matter, it was the center
of my large, loud and proud
Southern family’s universe.
Grandma’s house.
Everybody in the community,
whether kin or not, knew that
my Grandmother, AKA Miss
Julia, lived in the little white
house at the top of the hill.
There’s no counting how
many family gatherings, or
baby showers, or Woman’s
Missionary Union meetings,
or Bible studies, or Lord knows
what other kinds of get-togeth
ers took place at the little house.
Including my three siblings
and me, there are 47 first cous
ins on Daddy’s side of the
family and if I ponder long and
hard enough, I can bring back
memories of nearly every one
Several years ago, I cohosted
a radio show that was recorded
in a studio on Nashville’s
famed Music Row.
Top on my wish list of guests
was songwriter Rodney Crow
ell. His songs range from light
and fun to deep and thought
provoking. “Cool” - a word
I seldom use to describe a
person - is perfect for Rodney
Crowell.
Raised in Houston, Crowell
came to Nashville after being
discovered by Jerry Reed.
Nashville was “a cold splash of
water” in his face, he admitted.
When Emmylou Harris, who
had recorded his song, “Blue
berry Wine”, offered a spot in
her legendary Hot Band, he
hightailed it for Los Angeles.
Nashville was a natural fit for
Crowell because it appreciated
his Kris Kristofferson-way of
writing a country song that
could be country or pop. So, a
few years later, he returned to
Music City and found himself
comfortably amidst the “in”
group.
of those folks, memories that
are rooted at the top of that little
hill where Grandma’s house sat.
Memories.
The older we get, the more
important the recollections
become.
I remember that there was a
rotten old bench swing hanging
from a low limb on a tree in the
backyard. I had climbed up in
the tree and, probably doing
something dumb, showing off
to the cousins, I lost my grip and
fell. I landed flat on my back in
the swing. Did I mention that
the swing was rotten and old? It
barely slowed my descent and I
busted right through it landing
on my back. I made everybody
swear not to tell Mama but I
have a sneaking suspicion that
that fall is the reason I’ve had
back pain most of my life.
I remember the fruit trees
all around the house. Apples.
Pears. Pomegranates. Oddly, no
peach trees that I can remember.
The cousins and I would eat the
green apples fresh off the tree
until our stomachs hurt.
I remember Pepper, Grand
ma’s dog. Pepper was a Dal
matian and most of the time
was very gentle and friendly.
But one day, for reasons known
only to him and to God, Pepper
hauled off and bit me. I don’t
recall it hurting very bad and
Crowell, for several years,
was a recording artist. In 1988,
his fifth studio album, recorded
in Nashville with top musi
cians, was co-produced by
Crowell and Tony Brown,
who made his mark by pro
ducing George Strait and Reba
McEntire.
This album, “Diamonds and
Dirt”, remains one of my fa
vorites. It will be remembered
for much including five number
one songs, tremendous critical
acclaim, and commercial recep
tion which turned it into a plati
num seller. It included, “She’s
Crazy For Leaving,” which he
co-wrote with his mentor, Guy
Clark, and “It’s Such A Small
World”, a duet with Rosanne.
One of my longest, most
precious friends, Judi Turner,
handled Rodney’s publicity on
that album so my first call was
to her.
“Let me see if I can track him
down,” she said.
I also tried two other mutual
friends. Within a few hours, I
received an email that said sim
ply, “Are you looking for me?”
Rodney Crowell! I still have
the email. I wrote back, asking
him to guest on the show. He
readily agreed. It became two
of my memorable hours in life.
it didn’t break the skin, but
it scared me half to death, so
naturally, I went squalling to
Grandma who succinctly ad
vised me to leave Pepper alone
and he wouldn’t bite me.
Grandma, having raised 13
kids and being in the process
of helping raise the 47 grands,
wasn’t particularly sympa
thetic.
Hmm.
Falling from trees.
Stomachaches.
Dog bites.
It’s starting to sound like
being at Grandma’s house was
hazardous to my health.
Not always.
I also remember endless
games of tag, or as we called
it, catch, where the front porch
steps were base. There was
often a dozen or more cousins
participating in the games. If
the gathering was at night, the
games would shift to hide-and-
seek, with tons of places to
hide, or “bloody bones” with
numerous opportunities to have
the mud scared out of you, or
for you to do the scaring.
Off to the south, down the
slope, I remember the boys hav
ing wars with pine cones as our
only weapons. I can still feel the
cones hitting bare skin, and the
glorious feeling of making my
own perfect throw, smacking an
We talked about hit songs
he wrote including, “Leaving
Louisiana In The Broad Day
light” and the smash, multi-
awarded, “Please Remember
Me” sung by Tim McGraw.
He explained that he tried not
to pay much attention to critics,
good or bad. We agreed - it’s
distracting.
I said, “Yeah, the problem is
that my fans keep dyin’ and my
critics keep goin’ strong.”
He nearly fell out of his seat,
laughing. “I might find a song
in that.”
In the years since that day,
Crowell has continued to write
hit songs, critically acclaimed
songs, and won a Grammy
for an album with Emmylou
called, “Old Yellow Moon.” I
recommend it.
Rodney Crowell is country
music’s version of Paul Mc
Cartney. Medium height, lean,
and always has a modish shag
of hair which has now turned
to silver. He has not slowed
down with his writing. At 23,
he pretended to have wisdom in
“Song For A Life,” a hit, years
later, for Alan Jackson. I love
the line, “I’ve learned to listen
for a sound like the sun going
down.”
These days, he writes from
opposing cousin.
I remember sometimes sit
ting at the feet of the grownups
on the front porch as the men
argued politics, an activity that
my family still partakes in,
voraciously.
Mostly I remember a family
at Grandma’s house, a fam
ily that was loyal to the Lord,
fiercely patriotic and very de
voted to and protective of one
another.
We still are.
The house is still there, at the
top of the rise, unlike virtually
every other one of my kins
men’s homes from back then,
all of which were long ago torn
down. Years ago, Grandma
turned the house over to one of
her daughters, my aunt, and her
large family. Grandma moved
into a brand-new trailer a cou
ple of hundred yards away from
the little house, still on the same
hillside, where she lived until
she took up residence in her
very own mansion in Heaven.
Grandma’s old house has
been added onto several times
over the years and one of my
cousins lives there now, but
the “bones” of the place remain
the same.
And so do the memories,
dog bites and stomachaches
included.
Up the bill.
hard-earned wisdom.
In our interview that day,
he shared admirable stories of
being Johnny Cash’s son-in-
law (he and Rosanne divorced
years ago) including the day he
met Cash.
Crowell and Rosanne had
been living together in L.A.
They flew to Cash’s home in
Jamaica for the meeting.
“I was nervous,” he laughed.
“I drank a lot of whiskey on the
plane so I was pretty cocky by
the time we landed.”
Cash showed him to his
bedroom, making it clear that
Rosanne would be elsewhere.
“I pulled myself up. ‘We will
be in the same room.’”
Cash eyed him seriously.
“Son, I don’t know you well
enough to miss you when
you’re gone.”
Crowell laughed. “I learned
a lot from John. Boy, I miss
him.”
I’m glad that Crowell contin
ues to write. I’d hate to have to
miss him.
Rondo Rich is the best-sell
ing author of the new novel:
ST. SIMONS ISLAND: a Stella
Bankwell Mystery.
Ronda Rich
TELLERS OF SONGS PART 4 — RODNEY CROWELL