Monday, August 12, 2019

Jack Blanchard's Column August 12. 2019


Autumn is my favorite time of year a season of moods.
The first chill after summer has worn out its welcome...
That's when I start to feel the holidays coming on.
Not that we do any big celebrating these days
but it's the remembering of celebrations past,
and those who were with us during good times.
The empty places at our table.

I write more songs during the remnants of the year
when emotions are nearer to the surface,
the past is just over our shoulder,
and old voices whisper in our ear.

ONE WINTER, when it was minus 35 degrees and windy in Minnesota,
Misty and I stayed in a cement floor cabin on a lake shore.
I heard what sounded like whale sounds.
It was the frozen lake groaning as it expanded.
We had recently had such bad times
that we were thankful to be there with friends close by at Christmas.
We didn't mind the cold.

When we played Walt Disney World
Roy Clark and Hank Williams, Jr. were at the ends of the park,
and we were at the center stage.
We were assigned a guide for the day. He looked 12 years old.
Misty thought he was a boy and called him honey and sweetie,
and he liked it.
Turns out he was a Disney Vice President.
He must have started out as a duck and worked his way up.

After a week's shows at Atlanta's Chastain Park Amphitheater,
Boots Randolph threw a party for the artists.
Later in the party, there was some excitement going on at the ballroom door
when medics rushed in with a stretcher.
Roy Clark grinned, raised his glass, and said goodbye to everybody.
Then he made himself comfortable on the stretcher,
and was carried out to the ambulance.
He was late and had a plane to catch.


'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the park,
One trailer was leaky and covered with tarp.
On the wall were two cards where you taped them up.
By the light of a candle I poured us a cup.
Our tree on the table was scrawny and thin...
A foot and three quarters of plastic and tin.
The carolers sang on our clock radio,
It's the thought, after all, that counts, as you know.
The snow on the window, the smell of the pine,
Were sprayed from a can, but we didn't mind.
No money, no shopping, no last minute rush.
Christmas with love is Christmas Enough.

Jack Blanchard

Jack Blanchard & Misty Morgan
Home Page:
Billboard Duet of the Year, Grammy and CMA Finalists

Jack Blanchard, 2019  

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