You Can't Tune A Fish

This past week, Buck Owens, a country music legend, passed from this world. As this information was relayed to me, it got to thinking about a time a lot different from now. It was a time when I was a kid, Buck was a star, and Hee-Haw invaded the living room every Saturday night. Folks, those sure were some sweet times.

Back then, we were usually at my grandparents on Saturday afternoons. My Grandmother was the queen of finding things that needed to be done, such as weeding the garden, cleaning the yard, making enough Jelly to last 20 years, shelling 40 bushels of peas, and so forth. She was what you call a “visionary”; she could see all of us doing work.

Toward the evening, we would all go into the house, and relax before supper. My grandfather had a big recliner, and he would grab a Jax beer, a Wilson wiener, sit back in his recliner and turn on – you guessed it – the Lawrence Welk show.

Now, just to let you know, there was nothing, and I mean ab-so-lute-ly nothing, that I hated more in this world than the Lawrence Welk show. Mr Welk was even more despised than The Waltons, and that took some doing. It was an hour of pure child torture, and I am sure that making your child watch it would violate at least 23 laws today.

Anywho, my grandfather would turn on sir Welk, and delight to the sounds of whichever weird instrument they were featuring on a solo today. It could have been a tuba or even a fog horn, but he watched intently as they danced around the stage, enjoying songs that featured guest stars like Perry Como. And if any one of us got between him and the television he would say “Move. Your head’s made out of muddy water and I can’t see”.

Incidentally, let me just say that on occasion, my grandfather did chance to fall asleep in his chair during this show. Do you think we ever changed the channels when he did? No on your life! We might have been young, but we weren’t stupid!

Now, you are probably asking your self “Self, now why would a 10 year old boy put himself through such torture as to watching Lawrence Welk?” Well, it was because once Lawrence Welk was over, it meant it was time for Hee-Haw. And I LOVED Hee-Haw.

I loved the jokes. I love the cornfield. I love the salute to the home towns (though they never did “Siiiiii-Lute” Blanchard). I loved pickin-n-grinnin, the barbershop, “Hey Grandpa- what’s for dinner”, Empty Arms Hotel (which is still how I answer my home phone most days), “gloom, despair, and agony on me”, Archie’s stories (particularly Brender-cella), the guest stars, BR549, and anything else you could possibly imagine. I literally loved ever minute of the show. Watching it was the highlight of my week.

My Grandfather, on the other hand HATED Buck Owens. He would moan every time ol’ Buck came on stage with a guitar. He claimed he “couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket”. And I could never understand how anyone could possibly hate a guy who sang about having a Tiger by the tail.

But I guess that’s how Papaw felt about Lawrence Welk.

My grandfather passed on to the other side many years ago, and now, Buck has gone too. And though both of them are gone, they each made there mark on the world in different ways. But in my mind, they will always be infinitely twisted together, along with Lawrence Welk, Saturday evenings, and some fond memories of a happy childhood.

And If they are together up there somehow, I’ll bet Buck’s singing and my Grandfather’s looking for a bucket.