Willie Nelson wrote this song, and his jazz like version is
wonderful in so many different ways; from the melody he plays so well, to the
slightly deeper voice than that used here by Faron Young. But I would imagine
that Willie Nelson still listens to this version, too. It has a certain purity
about it, which eludes even Mr. Nelson’s talented fingers. And that’s hard to
do!
The song went #1 on the Country and Western charts and
eventually hit the Pop charts as well, where it enjoyed 13 week run before
petering out. The following year saw the emergence of Mr. Nelson as a recording
artist in his own right, and to no one’s surprise he included this song on his
first album “And Then I Wrote” in 1962. It is still a staple of his
performances and I believe it’s also the same guitar as well! That thing has
more holes in it than there are craters on the moon.
I think what I like about this version is that it gives me a
peek into the world which I knew I was missing out on as a kid in Brooklyn.
Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t trade my childhood in Brooklyn for anything. It
was a great training ground for many of the problems which come our way later
in life. I often feel sorry for those who were not raised there.
But, at the same time, I am cognizant of the fact that there
was this whole other way of living to which I was not privy, even though I
was aware of its existence. My little 6 transistor made in Japan radio gave me
a taste of it every night in the darkness of my bedroom, where I listened to
anything coming over the dial. The goal was, of course, to get the Grand Ol’
Opry, but that was rarely possible. Wheeling, West Virginia was a long way off,
and to get it well, you really needed to go to the roof of the 7 story
apartment building we lived in at 1310 Avenue R and East 14th
Street.
Now, going to the roof at night to listen to the radio was
not the best idea, as my parents were very strict and our apartment was kind of
like a prison camp. This was great training for my later adventures in the
Navy, as I was used to regimentation and discipline. But there’s always more than
one way to skin a cat, so I took a coil of thin copper wire which I got a the
Hobby Shop on Avenue S, and ran up to the roof where I dropped the coil to
right outside our second floor, rear window, which faced due South. Going back
downstairs I took the wire in and hid it along the window jamb, where it was
virtually invisible. At night I took the excess wire and attached it to my
radio by winding it around the whole body and then connecting the loose end to
the wire at the window.
This all sounds simple but had to be done after my brother
was asleep. He was the type who would constantly run to my parents about
anything I did at all which might be prohibited. Again, this was great training
for the military and even jail, where snitches abound. You have to learn to
work around them in order not get caught doing something wrong.
At any rate, these precautions were worth their weight in
gold, as they opened up the whole world to me. Even today I keep 2 shortwave
radios. And when the night is just right; preferably a cold, starlit one; I
turn it on and listen to the static as it gives way to news from the BBC, or the weather
out of Belgium, along with a million voices speaking in tongues which I may not
even recognize, but love hearing anyway. It reminds me that we are all
connected, even if only by the the airwaves.
Hey, can you believe that this started out to be about Faron
Young?
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