The new Glenn Campbell CD: Meet Glenn Campbell!

I was driving home the other night listening to XM and I heard Glenn Campbell's cover of the Replacements song "Sadly Beautiful". It WAS sadly beautiful. Then, I saw him perform Foo Fighter's "Times Like These" last night on The Tonight Show. Jason Faulkner, Roger Manning, Jr. and three of Glenn's kids were performing with him. IT WAS AWESOME! Glenn's voice is as pure as ever.

He has covered on this album:
Travis
Tom Petty
Foo Fighters
Jackson Browne
Replacements
U2
Velvet Underground
Green Day
John Lennon

Recording with him in the studio to name a few:

Robyn Zander from Cheap Trick
Jason Faulkner and Roger Manning, Jr. of Jellyfish
Chris Chaney of Jane's Addiction

WOW!

CONSTRUCTION DESTRUCTION

Okay, so I have this thing about men on a construction crew. And when I say thing, I don’t mean they’re cute. Let’s just say.........after encountering a construction crew....they end up either cracking up or shaking their heads because they’re wondering if my roots are really blond. Let me give you one example – of which there are many.

I work in a downtown LR skyscraper. When the weather is nice, I like to spend my lunch hour outside alone. It gives me time to kinda get myself back together and after am hour, I’m ready to take on the world again. I usually take my lunch, my book and sometimes I take the cross stitch project I’m working on.

There’s always some kind of construction going on downtown. Construction workers are always walking around downtown going from the construction site to wherever they decide to go to lunch. These guys don’t walk alone....on no.....they walk in packs.

One day, I had my cross stitch project with me. I’d already finished my lunch and I was just stitching away....in my own little world. I get to a point in my project where I’ve gotta turn the pattern over and cut some thread off with scissors when I realize......oh man...I’ve sewn the pattern to my dress! If you know me then you know that I don’t do anything half way. If I mess up, it’s gonna be good. I had sewn enough of this pattern to me that it was gonna take a while to rip all of it out not to mention the fact that I’ve gotta go slow so as not to tear my dress. So I’m sitting there, pulling, tugging, cutting. And it’s pretty obvious to anyone walking by what I’ve done. To like I said, I’m in my own little world, not thinking about my surroundings. But finally, I look up and, yeah, here comes a construction crew. A whole pack of em. They’re close enough to me to see what I’m doing and looking right at me but they’re far enough away for me to have to make a decision. Do I keep on tearing out stitches or do I stop and act like I’m just sewing. Who am I kidding? There really is no decision. It’s too late. They’re already laughing. So they walk by me. Oh, the humiliation. Let’s see, what word would best summarize their actions......um.........how about guffawing? And to make it worse, some of them don’t even speak English and, of course, they’re the ones saying things about me. I wish I knew what they where saying....well, maybe best for me not to know.

I’m not sure what the moral of this story is......um...........be careful what you’re stitching.......or in my case....stay away from construction crews.

OLD SKOOL LAW

These days, most of the young attorneys do their own typing. Legal secretaries who work for these young fellas end up typing letters and sometimes discovery. There’s a reason for this. Back when I started working for attorneys, there was no such things as PC’s, MAC’s or scanners. Nobody had their own computer. Spell check? What’s that? Larger law firms had word processing departments. These departments had massive amounts of typing and proofing to do. IBM actually had repairmen that would come and fix your word processing equipment when it broke down.

But back when I started working for attorneys (it’ll be 30 years next August), most older attorneys didn’t even know how to type. These folks are mostly retired or have passed away by now. Not many of them around anymore.

Several years ago I worked for an older attorney who was in his 70’s when I started working for him and I worked there 6 ½ years. He had a rule that no attorney could even have a computer in his office. The girls working for him did all the typing. When he decided to retire, I decided to look for another job. He was a good boss. He paid well, each girl had their own office, he left us alone to do our job but was there for us if we needed help.

I gave two weeks notice and he started looking for my replacement. He found a girl that he thought could do the job. I began training her. She’d been there about three days and was catching on pretty well. I asked her if she thought she was gonna like it there. She said, “Yes but I don’t like your keyboard. There’s no letters on it.” I looked down. Sometime within the 6 ½ years I’d been there, I’d worn off all the letters on the keyboard. I hadn’t even noticed it! Hmmmmmmmmmmmm……..well, I love to type. You could put me in the corner with a typewriter and the Betty Crocker Cookbook, tell me to type it, and I’d be a happy camper. If you’re a good typist, typing is second nature. Like reaching for the volume button to the radio in your car…you don’t even need to look down. It doesn’t matter if you have letters on the keyboard or not. But I didn’t think about all that when I looked down at those blank keys. I just felt sorry for her and even a little guilty for wearing off the keys so I told her I’d go check with the boss about getting a new keyboard for her. I jumped up and went to his office and told him what was going on. He said, “What? Well, if she needs to see letters on the keyboard to be able to type, she obviously can’t type and can’t do the job.” He jumped up, walked around me and proceeded to go to my office while I’m following on his heels. He said to her, “Hey, you can’t type. You can’t do the job. You’re fired.” Then he just walked out. Okaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay. She looked at me….I looked at her……she started to cry….I started to cry. We had this little pity party while I helped her pack her stuff up and leave. YOUCH.

WHERE WERE YOU THE DAY J.F.K. WAS SHOT?

On that day, November 22, 1963, I was only 2 ½ years old. My dad was off work and I was at home with him. I didn’t really understand what was going on. I remember my dad just jumping up, scooping me up, running outside with me and placing me in his 1957 Chevy. He got in the driver’s seat and drove really fast to the doctor’s office where my mom was a nurse. He scooped me up again and headed into the doctor’s office. He asked where my mom was. She came walking down the hall. He said, "Norma, Kennedy’s been shot." And then my mom was upset just like my dad was. It’s all a bit of a haze to me now and I don’t really know how much I comprehended at that young age but I remember as word spread throughout the office, patients and nurses began to get upset like my mom and dad. It was an awful feeling to be that little and see everyone like that. It was like this wave of shock that covered everyone in the doctor’s office until little by little, everything went from sunshine to darkness.

WHAT'S THE VERY FIRST MEMORY YOU HAVE?

The first memory I have was before I was the age of two. The house next door was owned by a local church in my town. I can’t remember their names but the family consisted of the preacher, his wife, teenage daughter and twin boys.

I remember hearing music from next door and even though I wasn’t even two years old, I went to investigate. I was still wearing diapers and I can remember the feel of the diaper as I waddled next door. The teenage girl had one of those record players that played 45's. She was playing "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" by the Beatles. That is the very first memory I have.

I don’t know why I’m such a huge music fan. Was it because my dad was a musician? Or could it be because a less than two year old baby girl was swept up into the mop top frenzy?

My Home Town

I grew up in a small town in Missouri. West Plains – hometown of Porter Wagoner. That just about says it all. I wasn’t country when country was cool. I left there when I was 18. Actually, I ran. Didn’t look back, didn’t pass go, didn’t collect $200.00. I’ve been in Little Rock for almost 30 years now. West Plains, MO and Little Rock, AR. Two very different worlds. What was it like living in a small town where:

1. there were no stoplights. Just four-way stops;
2. your dad was the hometown barber;
3. the only radio station in town played country until 5:00;
4. you went to the grocery store and didn’t just run into somebody you knew…you knew most everybody in the cars that you passed on the way to the store, every customer and every employee there;
5. you were a 15-year-old girl who was a huge KISS fan while all your other girlfriends were into Shaun Cassidy.

Well, let’s see. It was a trip. I’ve always said God gave me two things……my dad and a sense of humor. Yeah, I was out of there as soon as I graduated from high school. I love Little Rock and would never go back. But as I grow older I realize that I’m glad I grew up in that little town. Home of Preacher Roe who was a famous baseball player back way before I was even born. I cherish the good memories and have come to terms with the bad ones. I’m gonna blog about lots of experiences, feelings and just clutter in my head. There will be lots of stories of WP….gotta write about it…..before I get so old I can’t remember what it was like to be a kid growing up in a small town.

GROWING UP IN THE BARBERSHOP

My daddy was a barber for almost 50 years. He had a little barbershop in WP for more than 40 years. He’s retired now but I have fond memories of that barbershop. I pretty much grew up there. My mom worked too so I spent a huge part of my life in daddy’s barbershop.
His shop was really small. He didn’t take appointments.....if you wanted a haircut...you just showed up and waited - first come, first serve. He didn’t even have a phone. WP was a small town back then. It was a farming community and those farmers would just come in and wait until it was their turn.
Daddy was a musician. He played harmonica and guitar. He had this area set up in the back of the barbershop with coffee and chairs. Customers would bring their musical instruments with them and they’d play in the back until it was their turn. You never knew who was gonna be there. Sometimes you’d walk in and in the back there would be a fiddle player and a guitarist. Or a singer with a guitar. Or five or six musicians jamming. Once in a while, my dad would be in the middle of a haircut, the music would get all geared up and dad would say, wait a minute, and he’d leave the customer in the chair and run back and start playing harmonica with the boys. Sometimes the customer in the chair wasn’t real happy about this but I never knew if it was because he wasn’t getting his haircut as fast as he wanted or because he wanted to be back there playing too! Other times, the customer would be having so much fun listening to the music that he didn’t seem to care if dad was cutting his hair or not. Since a lot of the customers were farmers, they didn’t have to be back to work at a certain time.
Sometimes the customers would pay daddy with food instead of money. He came home lots of times with stuff like honey, eggs, etc. And Christmas was really cool. Every year this lady would make peanut brittle and daddy would bring it home. I didn’t even know her name.....we just called her the peanut brittle lady and I looked forward to him bringing it home every year.
I was always the only girl hanging out down there. I was pretty quiet when I was a kid (what the heck happened!!!) and those customers would forget I was there. Boy, the stories and the cussing I heard......my mom would have had a fit if she’d known. When the customers would get to talking about things my mama would have had a fit over, my daddy would just look around the barbershop till he found me and caught my eye and he’d give me this look like, it’s okay. I loved that barbershop and have such wonderful memories of my dad. To this day, I’m more comfortable in a room full of men. Especially if there’s music around.

PANTIES FOR YOU

Years ago, I worked for this really big law firm. My boss was one of the head muckety mucks and he was the definition of high maintenance. He had this big meeting one day with a bunch of bigwigs. After the meeting had already started, I realized that I had forgotten to wear my slip under my dress. I started stressing. What am I gonna do? If I go home and get my slip and he tries to call me into the meeting and can’t find me, he’ll have a fit. But if I get called into the meeting and he can see right through my dress, he’ll have a fit. What a quandary. After agonizing for a while, I came up with the perfect solution. I went down to the runners office and asked one of the female runners if she would mind picking up a slip for me at Sterlings which was within walking distance of the office. She said she would so I gave her money. I went back to my desk and in a little while, here comes one of the male runners. He plops this sack down on my desk along with my change and says, "In all my years of running, I ain’t never had to run an errand like that." Definitely one of those "why me lord" moments.
This was a big firm and the runners had this big basket on wheels. They delivered our mail to us. Once in a while, this same runner would come by with the basket, and drop a package on my desk and say "panties for you" or "girdle" or "bra", etc.

OH, COME ON, IT WAS RAINING, IT COULD HAPPEN TO ANYBODY!

So a couple of years ago, I had this parking ticket that I needed to pay. It was raining cats and dogs outside so this co-worker told me she would run me over to the police station so I wouldn’t have to drive. When we got there she told me she would go around the block and come back to pick me up. it was still raining, so I got out of her SUV, ran to the door, went inside and paid my ticket. When I came back outside, I stood on the little concrete porch of the building under the awning. I was looking for my friend’s vehicle when another woman came out of the building and stood on the porch next to me.

About that time, my friend pulled up in her SUV so I started running towards her. I realized that the woman next to me started running too....right next to me. I thought to myself, if she thinks we’re gonna give her a ride to her car just because it’s raining, she’s crazy! So I get to the door of my friend’s car, jerk it open and jump up into the seat. I’m getting ready to shut the door when I realize that the woman running along beside me is there too. She says, "I think you have the wrong car!" I look over at the driver’s seat. There is a total stranger sitting there. I look behind me. There’s a baby in a car seat. I look back at the driver and her mouth is wide open but she can’t say a word because she is in shock. Then I look out at the woman standing in the rain waiting to get into the vehicle. I say, "oh gosh, I’m sorry!" and I run back onto the little porch to wait for my ride. I cannot tell you how embarrassed I was. But, no, my humiliation can’t just end there. The woman who had been running beside me is only giving the woman in the vehicle papers so she runs back onto the porch with me. By this time, she is laughing. And I laugh and say, "I’m so sorry but your friend’s SUV looks just like my friend’s SUV." And, yeah, you guessed it, at that very moment, my friend pulls up and her SUV is nothing like the other SUV....different color, different make, different model.

THE REASON I'M AN ONLY CHILD

When I was a kid, my mom went to the beauty shop every Thursday night. In the 70's, she had this B-52 hairstyle like Kate Pierson......except not as cool as Kate’s. She would come home Thursday night and her hair would be all nice and teased up. She looked like a conehead! Birds could have lived in that thing. I mean, it was just scary!
She wore this thing on her head in bed at night that was supposed to keep her hair from getting mussed up. It was made out of sponge covered with terry cloth. It wrapped around her head and then fastened with velcro. It was bright blue. My mom was the original Marge Simpson. That contraption didn’t work very well either. Each day her hair would fall a little more...a little more.....until her hair would start to look like the Leaning Tower of Pisa. I’d love to have a picture of that thing and have searched on the internet to no avail.
I know, in my heart, that headband thingie is the reason I’m an only child. If I were my dad, I wouldn’t have touched it with a ten foot pole. Talk about cheap birth control!

DID I DO THAT? WELL, WE ARE TAKING ABOUT ME!

I got up this morning and was gonna give Mattie (one of my Boston Terriers) her medicine. She's on this medication to keep her yeast level down which keeps her from scratching so much. I got her pill and went to the microwave to get a piece of bread to put her pill in. Never made it to the bread. Got something else on my mind, popped the pill in MY mouth and slugged it down with some Dr. Pepper. All the while, Mattie is standing in the kitchen, looking up at me for her pill. I go into the bedroom and start getting ready for work. Then I think, hey, I don't remember giving her her pill. Oh, man, I took it myself!!!!! By the time I got to work, I had this insatiable urge to bark and when I was waiting at the corner for the light to change, it was hard to keep myself from running after cars. The pharmacy downstairs opened at 9:00 so I went down there and asked the pharmacist, "I had a friend :) that took one of her dog's pills etc., etc." He said to make sure the nobody throws any balls down the halls at work today, because I WILL run after them and he said if I start trying to hunch everybody's legs, I might wanna think about taking a sick day."Seriously though, I did take her pill. The pharmacist said as long as I don't have any liver problems, I'm okay. WHAT A TRIP!
P.S. Throw me a bone, baby, throw me a bone

MY BLOG

I’m starting this blog purely for selfish reasons. It’s not important to me if anyone reads my blog or not. In fact, I’m not sure if my life stories would be interesting to anybody else. I just want a written record for myself and I feel this need to write about things that have happened to me in the past and now. If anyone does happen across my blog, please keep in mind, I am just pouring out thoughts and stories. I’ll try not to make typos but punctuation is a whole other animal. That’s my boyfriend’s job - he’s an editor. So if that bugs somebody, don’t correct me, just move on to somebody else’s blog. There’s a ton of em out there!