Ham Balls and Little Blue Pills: A Saturday in Lancaster, PA (Part 2)

Jean Shepard, the best female regular in the current Opry cast and, clearly, a woman who is very into me, closed out the first half of the show by bringing out a rested and normal-breathing Ferlin Husky to sing "Dear John Letter," an all-time classic in which a soldier off at war finds out that his wife has left him and married his brother. Yet another exhibit in the case for why I love country music.

The second part of the show started with Hank Thompson, whose voice is as smooth and clear as it is on the "At the Golden Nugget" CD you oughta buy. Granted, he doesn't put on a real flashy show, staying seated throughout his set, but country isn't really about flash anyway. I'm looking at you, Big & Rich. But I'm not looking long, because if I do that, I get ill. Thompson--and, really, everybody on the bill--knows that the song's the thing in country music. There are a few people in Nashville who still know that, but they're getting harder to find.


The Kitty Wells Show was next, and I think it's a sign that you're at a really good show when a guy comes out wearing a Nudie suit and shuffles onto the stage with one of those walkers with wheels that you can also sit on. I'm sure there's a name for it, but I'll wait to learn it until the time comes. Anyway, the guy in question was 92-year-old Johnnie Wright, who was introduced by his son, Bobby, a minor country star and actor who couldn't have reminded me more of Cousin Eddie if he came out wearing a blue leisure suit and white bucks. And if I have to explain to you who Cousin Eddie is, please find another blog. Your kind is not welcome here.

Anyway, Bobby sang a few songs before his dad came out, and then Johnnie did a couple of old Johnnie and Jack tunes with Bobby (though not, unfortunately, "Poison Love"). He cut them a little short, but, when you're 92, you've earned the right to dictate when the song ends. He would also stand up and do a little boogie every now and then, letting you know that the years may have taken their toll, but the showman will never leave.

Then, his wife of 68 years, Kitty Wells, took the stage and though Bobby said she was getting over a little bit of laryngitis and wasn't sure she'd be able to sing that well, she sounded just fine. And, really, to hear Kitty Wells sing "It Wasn’t God Who Made Honky Tonk Angels," well, that's something I plan to bore my grandkids (or, more likely, other people's grandkids, probably in a park where I'm feeding pigeons) with someday.


***

Finally, the time had come for Little Jimmy to take the stage. And when he gave his standard introduction of "Hello, I'm Little Jimmy Dickens, or Willie Nelson, after taxes," I was so damn happy that I couldn't stop smiling. And the 85-year-old Jimmy kept everybody laughing with his between-song jokes, including the obligatory Viagra joke ("I got a stiff neck. Y'know, I been taking them little blue pills people like us take sometimes. And if you don't swallow them pills fast enough...") and the classic whisper joke (to summarize, his little brother yells out "I need to go to the bathroom” in the middle of the department store. His mom is embarrassed and tells him not to yell out a thing like that. She tells him, "When you have to use the bathroom, just tell me you need to whisper and I'll know what you mean." So, the next day, Little Jimmy's on the couch at home and his brother comes up to him and says, "I need to whisper! I need to whisper!" So Little Jimmy says, "Well, then you come on over here and whisper right in my ear...").

And as if the jokes weren't good enough, the song selection was spot on. When he started to introduce "Life Turned Her That Way," I got chills. And they stayed throughout the song. It was that song, sung by Little Jimmy on one of the "Country Legends Homecoming" shows on the Nashville Network, that caused me to seek out more of his stuff and more of Harlan Howard's (who wrote the song). And that just kept snowballing, and still does. I'd listened to country music a little when I was a kid, particularly when my dad would listen to it on WHN while he was getting ready for work or when we were driving up to Eva's Farm for summer vacation. But it never really took, mainly because my dad loved vocal groups like the Oak Ridge Boys and the Statler Brothers, who never really did it for me (with a few exceptions--"Elvira" and "Flowers on the Wall" being the most prominent). And I liked Johnny Cash and Willie Nelson, but it didn't get much further than that. Until that Saturday night when Little Jimmy sang that song. Then, I got it. Everything opened up. And, now here I was, seeing Little Jimmy Dickens do that same song. I don't know how to describe that feeling to you. But it was cool.

And then, as if that weren't enough, he closed with a song I never would've thought he'd do: "(You've Been Quite a Doll) Raggedy Ann." It's more of a recitation than anything else, as Little Jimmy talks to a Raggedy Ann doll while the band plays softly behind him. As the song goes on, you begin to realize that the doll, which belonged to his daughter, is all that the narrator has left. His wife passed away years ago and he is now talking to the doll at the grave of his daughter, who died when she was quite young. And this will be the last time he talks to the doll, because he's not able to make it up the hill to the grave anymore, and death will call for him soon, too. The song closes like this:

"Well, I've gotta leave you now
I gotta go
And about the only thing that comes to my mind to say to you is God bless you
And you sure have been quite a doll, Raggedy Ann
Yessir, quite a doll"

Now, I could see how someone would find this song to be, I don't know, a bit maudlin. And I suppose you're entitled to think that. But when Little Jimmy said those lines and hugged the Raggedy Ann doll, tears may have been close to forming in my eyes. Or maybe they did form. Only I know for sure.

***

After the whole cast came out for a group photo on the stage (see Part 1), it was autograph time in the lobby. And after patiently waiting for the bus crowd to make their way to the parking lot, I was able to get back to the car and grab my things. Jean Shepard and Ferlin Husky were the first stop, simply because they were closest to the door and there was a mob of elderly people (a phrase you will probably only see here at Tinsel and Rot) crowding up the lobby. It took awhile to get to the table, but I made it and got my stuff signed.

Then it was onto Little Jimmy across the room. He seemed really not so much into crowds, or the crazy woman who I think asked him to sign her bra (all I heard was his response of "No, ma'am, I won't do that" after she whispered something--actually whispered, not peed--in his ear). I tried explaining how exciting the moment was for me, but I couldn't really and just thanked him. I had somebody take the picture (Frank was doing his own rounds at the time), and God bless the crop and zoom feature on my digital camera, because otherwise, it would've been an underwhelming photo.

I had a bit of a hard time getting everything out of sleeves and bags and such, but I eventually got everything under control and got all my stuff signed (and buying a few extra things--photos of Kitty, Johnnie, and Bobby and, yes, an 8X10 of Little Jimmy). I also picked up a Little Jimmy baseball hat, one of those hats that don't really look right on the head of someone under 60. But that won't stop me from wearing it. Proudly. And, it should be added, nonironically, hipster scum.

***


After the autograph flurry was over, our time in Lancaster wrapped up at Hershey Farm, a restaurant/inn that specializes in the smorgasbord style of eating (and also features some farm animals outside the main entrance, like my friend above). It's generally good food and a lot of it, so it's important to focus on your own meal and not look at the rampant gluttony of those around you. I made the mistake of not doing that last time, and it wasn't nearly as enjoyable an experience as this time around. It's also a good idea at a smorgasbord to only eat things whose names you recognize. I broke this rule to try a corn nugget, but I drew the line at the ham balls, which looked like testicles that had been soaked in butter. I think that was a good decision.

I managed to not eat to the point of discomfort, which is also key at such establishments, and grabbed a mini-loaf of coconut bread from the gift shop/bakery, which, of course, had a fine collection of "I [Heart] Intercourse, PA" merchandise. Unfortunately, that mini-loaf barely made it to Monday. If you're in the area, please get me some more.

So, after leaving the Farm, I made Frank make a pit stop so I could buy a Hank Thompson belt buckle before the second show started (I had neglected to do so in the midst of the autograph frenzy). It's pretty sweet. I'm glad we went back.

And, while I was there, I added a Little Jimmy magnet and a guitar pick to my collection. Just because.

It sure was quite a day, Little Jimmy. Yessir, quite a day.