SCATTERBRAINED: The King Is Gone

By FRANCISCO E. JIMENEZ
Staff Writer
reporter@sbnewspaper.com

Francisco E. Jimenez

Francisco E. Jimenez

“And you’re as smooth as Tennessee Whiskey, you’re as sweet as strawberry wine, you’re as warm as a glass of brandy, and I stay stoned on your love all the time…” croons George Jones, on my iPod, as my dad and I drink cheap beer.

When George Jones comes on, it is mandatory that one raises the volume (weeping hysterically is optional).

“Did you know that your mother and I saw George Jones at the Road House here in San Benito,” my dad asked one night, telling a story I may have heard before (I can’t be sure, I may have been slightly intoxicated). “It was incredible. He would actually take time in between songs to talk with the crowd. Did you know that he used to be a book salesman in this area?”

“No…” I responded.

“I remember him saying that he was familiar with this area. He said that he recalled traveling through San Benito to Brownsville before he became famous,” my dad recalled.

“Wow, that’s awesome!” I exclaimed.

According to my dad, this had occurred sometime during the early 90s. He remembers it being around the time his song, “I Don’t Need Your Rocking Chair” had just released. According to Wikipedia, it was sometime between 1992 and 1993.

George Jones has been an integral part of my Country music obsession, if not the pinnacle, since I first heard that voice (smooth as Tennessee whiskey) teach me about a bartender’s blues. His music has been ubiquitous in the Jimenez household on Saturday mornings, on the sound system during road trips, playing from my iPod at work to make me forget that I’m at work. To be frank, George Jones sounds like Country music.

George Jones was to Country music, what Abraham Lincoln was to the Union.

And now he belongs to the ages.

I read the report about his passing online, and nearly spit my coffee all over my computer screen. To make matters worse, I had at least five different people ask me if I’d heard the news and/or attempt to console me. It didn’t really hit me until I received a text from my mother (make that six people), who also happens to be one of his biggest fans.

He’s gone. The end of an era. To hear that sound and to know it’s really over… the closing of the door…

Who’s going to fill his shoes? Definitely not an “accidental racist.” Definitely not anybody (well, maybe Jamey Johnson). Who will I turn to, to help me drown my sorrows when the Cowboys miss the playoffs again? It’s bad enough that these days I barely get by.

Oh well, yabba dabba doo… the King is gone… and so am I…

Permanent link to this article: https://www.sbnewspaper.com/2013/04/27/scatterbrained-the-king-is-gone/

1 comment

    • Liz on April 29, 2013 at 9:19 am
    • Reply

    Amen brother!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.