Johnny Horton & The Sound Of Music

This past weekend I drove seven hours to Northern Virginia and, a few days later, I drove home again. On both legs of the trip I listened to my music library, which contains a lot of 1970s hits from when I was in high school and 1980s hits when I was a single journalist and newlywed. Like you, I can hear a song and two things happen - I go back to a specific time in my life and I remember something about that time.

Music defines us in a lot of ways.

Several readers have commented about enjoying the times when I listed a song's lyrics within the book. These readers have said the lyrics remind them of the time the book was written, but that the lyrics also call up memories from their childhood or young adulthood.

We were not a musical family, but music was important to us. We listened to AM pop radio - as it was - during the 1960s as we made the 20-mile round trip to our hometown of Cumming. I was not yet a teenager when I received that tape recorder for Christmas and also received some pop cassette tapes to play with it. Paul McCartney was one of my early favorites. Then, I was introduced to Grand Funk Railroad and never looked back. But, it's funny: I also had a Carpenters cassette and - forgive me - but I still enjoy listening to the late Karen Carpenter sing.

My Granny would walk through her house singing hymns of faith, and certainly music was a part of our faith life through our local church. I was in choir until I graduated high school.

Because I was born during the great television explosion of the 1960s, we were exposed to a lot of variety shows and sitcoms with big theme songs. In the book, I give a nod to those by listing more than a few of the lyrics from Petticoat Junction. I actually know the lyrics to Bonanza even though the show's musical intro never included them.

When we went camping with other families, we children went to sleep listening to our dads sing around the campfire. (That's all I'll say about that).

Music was everywhere.

That's why it was no strange thing when my daddy used a song to help me remember two state capitals: Johnny Horton's The Battle of New Orleans. (Chapter 21 - The Capitals Test) And, what a great song. I've heard from so many people who have said, "I sing that song all the time" or "I've taught my children that song." It's a great, fun song.

And, driving up I-77 last weekend to Northern Virginia, Horton's song came through my radio during my music shuffle. And, I could just hear my Daddy sing it. I would lie if I told you I didn't cry riding up the road.

All Things Baseball

Clearly, there are two large macro themes within Brookwood Road: Faith and Family.
If I could pinpoint an under-theme or a micro-theme it would be how much we boys loved baseball. Throughout the book there are these baseball seeds that keep coming up.

The book communicates how we created our own baseball games, playing in the yard with imaginary opponents. I loved the Saturday afternoon MLB Game Of The Week on Saturday afternoons because usually we got to see an American League team play. When the Tigers played, I loved to stand in front of the television and mimic 30-game winner Mickey Lolich pitching a baseball.

In the book, there's also mention of how we tried calling Henry Aaron, dialing up every Henry Aaron we could find in the Atlanta telephone directory. We even tried calling a few Tommy Aarons, believing if we stumbled upon Hank's brother then Tommy might hand the telephone over to Hank. (Despite being grown men, we assumed the Aaron brothers lived together just like we boys did). I have an autographed Hank Aaron baseball though I got it as an adult. Here's a picture.

Chapter 12, "The Baseball Card Locker" introduces how crazy we were about collecting baseball cards. We were introduced to baseball cards by our uncle, Buddy Yarbrough, who collected cards as a boy. We found some of his old cards one afternoon visiting our Mema. I'm not sure whatever happened to those cards, but I remember three of them - Gil Hodges, Carl Furillo and Roy Campanella. Furillo made a big impression on me because the photograph in the 1956 card made him

look so cool. Campanella entered the Hall of Fame in 1969; Hodges should be the but isn't; and Furillo should probably be there, too. (Tim has the 1956 Furillo card, pictured left).

When we boys realized our baseball heroes were on collectible cards - we went crazy for those cards. And, the card locker story came out of it. And, it's all true. I did work for my Papa R.C. to raise money to buy a card locker from a friend at school, and Papa R.C. did forget to pay me.

I still have that green baseball card locker, and it's pictured here. I still have the box it came in. It was one of the first things I really worked to have.

Chapter 18, "The First-Baseman's Mitt" is one of my favorite stories. As I stated in the book over and over (my editor said too many times) we only received gifts at Christmas and on our birthday. We might get a little trinket here and there, but largely we had two times each year to cash in (though that's all relative). That's why Christmas was a big deal. That's why our birthdays were big deals. It wasn't just us - our friends lived the same way. I remember Mema bringing me a small gift one year at Tim's birthday. She brought it as kind of a consolation prize. My mama told her she had to stop it. She did.

So, when my daddy surprised me with a first baseman's mitt during one of the years I played organized baseball, it was significant. I remember him giving Tim and me BB Guns one fall, and that's the only other time I ever remember getting gifted like that. My daddy just wasn't a gift-giver, and so for him to buy me something and to do it off the calendar was pretty darn special.

For me, that first-baseman's mitt was always a tangible expression of how much my daddy loved me. That mitt went with me to college (where I used it to play softball), and it's been with me along every stop of my life. It's been long retired from use, but several years ago I took it to a sporting goods store here in Columbia. I had it re-strung with new leather because the old strings were just rotted away. Here are some photographs of it today; I keep it on the side of my desk along with a catcher's mitt I used during my 20 years of coaching boys' baseball.

I still love baseball. I love to watch it live and on television. I love to throw a ball around with my boys though they are now grown. And, on occasion, you might find me standing in front of a television, winding up like old Mickey Lolich of the Detroit Tigers, and pretending to pitch to the Cardinals' Lou Brock. And, when I am really pondering something; deep in thought it's not unusual to find me wearing that old first-baseman's mitt while I do.

Easter Sunrise Service

In the book, I briefly reference that my mama woke me early on Easter morning, and she and I made a 20-mile round trip drive from Brookwood Road to a Sunrise Service on the shore of Lake Lanier at Bald Ridge Marina just outside the city limits of my hometown, Cumming, GA. It was the first - not the only - worship experience of our day.

If you are wondering why my two younger brothers and my daddy didn't make this pre-dawn journey, well, I have no idea.

That was almost 50 years ago.
That very same Sunrise Service continues to this day.
If you are a follower of Jesus, there's more than a little irony in that with all the seismic changes to my hometown of Cumming, GA (in the Atlanta metroplex) and to the Brookwood Road area - one very real constant is the Easter Sunrise Service at Bald Ridge Marina. (You know . . . the more our Earthly surroundings change the stronger the reminder that the love of God through His son Jesus remains constant).

The Sunrise Service has always been an ecumenical service. It is hosted by the Cumming United Methodist Church and open to all. Per the church's website, the Sunrise Service will begin this year at 7 a.m. and church pastor Jeff Ross will officiate it. The chapel at Bald Ridge Marina has been upgraded, and here's a photograph of it today. Here's a link to the chapel website.

******

To make that 7 a.m. service back in the 1960s, my mama would have to wake me about 5:45 a.m. because it took 20-30 minutes to make the drive from Brookwood Road to Bald Ridge Marina.

She would allow me to have one quick look in and through my Easter basket before we left home in the pre-dawn darkness. I loved those malted milk bird eggs, and I dug around in my basket until I had a handful of them for the trip to the Sunrise Service. I did notice the deck of playing cards that I received every single year as if my future was to be a Vegas Black Jeack dealer. Among the malted bird eggs, the marshmallow bunnies, the big hollow chocolate bunny, and M&Ms there was usually a Matchbox car or a puzzle. (I love jigsaw puzzles though I disdain group puzzling.) There was always a baseball or a wooden 28-inch baseball bat in or on my basket. Each year, I either got the ball or the bat, and my brother Tim got the other.

We got home from the Sunrise Service by 8:30 a.m., and Daddy usually was far along in his preparing a pancake breakfast. He loved pancakes with melted butter oozing down between slices in the pancakes. We had to leave home by 9:30 for a return trip to Cumming, where we attended Sunday School and worship at the First Baptist Church. The rest of the day was spent eating and hunting eggs with family and then with friends. It was a full, full day.

And, we wore our brand new "Sunday clothes" all day long because at any moment someone might shout, "Let's have a picture" and we would jump in formation as if it was the first Easter photograph of the morning. For 55 years, I've been a part of a family Easter photograph occurring just before or after Sunday church services. It's a big deal. Even today, no one changes clothes until the family photograph is taken.

Hope you and yours have a blessed Easter 2015, and celebrate the Resurrection of our Savior, Jesus. SDV