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My first public appearance was in Brooken, Texas. We were at the annual Brooken Homecoming, with all-day singing and dinner on the ground. I was five years old. My poem was given to me by Mama Nelson to recite at the singing and performing part of "singing and dinner on the ground." I guess I was nervous, because I started picking my nose until it started bleeding all over my little white sailor suit, trimmed in red. I did my poem . . . What are you looking at me for? I ain't got nothing to say. If you don't like the looks of me You can look the other way! I have never had stage fright since. There was always music in our home. My grandparents, Alfred and Nancy Nelson, were both musicians. They took music courses through the mail from the Chicago Music Institute. I could hear them at night practicing their music lessons. My grandfather, Daddy Nelson, was a voice teacher at one time, and they both knew a lot about music. We lived in a little house on the edge of Abbott, and I could hear every note they sang. I could also see the stars through the holes in the roof of that house. It was all very beautiful! Soon after that time, I was given my first guitar. Up until then I had only written a few poems. Now I was able to learn to play guitar and write songs. It was a Sears and Roebuck Stella guitar. The strings were very high off the neck, so my fingers bled a lot. But they eventually got tough. Kinda like life . . . My granddad used to sing: Show me the way to go home I'm tired and I want to go to bed I had a little drink about an hour ago And it went right to my head Wherever I may go, and wherever I may roam You'll always hear me singing this song Show me the way to go home As you can see, I was getting a broad education. Daddy Nelson was the kindest, wisest man I've ever known, unless it would be my dad, Ira. He never criticized a crazy thing I did. If my dad was ever mad at me, I never knew it. He would give me anything he had; money when he had it, advice anytime, plus he always kept my cars running like a clock. He was the best damn Ford mechanic that ever lived. Amen. Me and sister Bobbie and some of the rest of the kids around Abbott, the Harwells and the Rajecks, we'd smoke anything that burned. We tried corn silks, cedar bark, coffee grounds, and grapevines before graduating to Bull Durham roll-your-own tobacco, and we did. That's where I learned to roll and why I can roll a joint faster than any living person. And then along came ready-rolls. No wonder I'm short. As much as I smoked, I should have been four feet tall. Thank God I quit cigarettes before I got lung cancer. Unfortunately, a lot of my friends and loved ones kept smoking. My mother, dad, stepmother, stepdad, and one father-in-law all died of lung cancer caused by tobacco. No one knew just how bad smoking was for you back then. If I had known, I would have quit at that time. But we thought it looked cool, smart, hip. Everybody did it. All the movie stars, sports stars (well, not all, but some), were always seen with a cigarette hanging out of their mouths. I love sports, and think I would have done a lot better if I hadn't been smoking cigarettes so early on in life, or not started at all. As far as drinking is concerned, I had only tasted beer when I was six years old, but according to what I'd been taught, that was enough to send me straight to hell unless I repented and asked forgiveness. So I did, every Sunday, for a long time. The preacher asked those of us who wanted forgiveness to walk down the aisle. I went down morning and night for years. I took no chances. Amen. I believe we need all of the words we have. So cursing, or "cussing" as we used to call it in Abbott, was part of carrying on a conversation. Of course not in my home, but all over everywhere else. We told jokes, and we recited limericks. There once was a man from Boston Who owned an American Austin He had room for his ass and a gallon of gas But his balls fell out and he lost them Abbott humor was somewhere between white trash and redneck. All words were important to us. We believed in laughter above everything. We laughed at ourselves mostly. We also loved to fight bumblebees in the summer months. The farmers down the road in Abbott would look for bumblebee nests while they were plowing and working in their fields. When they came into town, they would stop by Popps grocery store and leave word where we could find the nests. We would make our bumblebee paddles out of apple boxes. They looked like Ping-Pong paddles with holes in them to let the air through and to swing smooth. Many Sundays I would come home with both eyes swollen shut from the bee stings. Boy what fun! By the way, if you're ever stung by a bee, rub tobacco juice on it immediately. The pain goes away and it'll heal much sooner. However, you're still blind for a few days. Another pastime in Abbott on Sundays, after bumblebee season, was placing an empty woman's purse on the highway that ran between Waco and Dallas. We would tie a string to the purse, then drop the purse on the road and run to hide behind a billboard. A car would come by, the driver would see the purse and slide to a stop. We'd pull the string, retrieving the purse before the driver in the car could get back to it. They were most always real pissed. This made our Sundays special. We still have a home in Abbott. We bought the house Dr. Simms used to live in. He's the doctor who delivered sister Bobbie and me. The house is about a quarter of a mile from where I was born. I go there when I can, and run and bike the same places again and again. They say you can't go back. Maybe they can't, but I can. Thank you, Abbott, for never changing. |
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The Facts of Life
Willie Nelson
0-375-50731-0
January 2002
$21.95
Also available in a Random House Large Print Edition