Sain't Christopher: Outing Myself

My Dad, deep in his heart, had to have known all along.

I was always an odd child. Singing along to the radio, when he'd catch me, I was as sincere as an American Idol wanna be trying out at the mall.

Also, my tendencies were never really well masked. He'd come into the house and eye me suspicisouly, "Whataya been up to?" Umm. . . nothing.

He even asked me, in a round about way, once. After that I put on all sorts of bravado, trying to hide my secret with harsh criticism every time one of them was on TV, all dressed up in glittery, colorful costumes. But no more. It's time I was open about this.

I love country music.

The cd player in the T-bird has been playing Johnny Cash's Live at Folsom for two weeks now. The Dad had the album and I played it all the time . . . at least at the times no one was home. I played the A side of Willie's Red Headed Stranger over and over the winter of my first year in Junior High. I still think Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain is a brilliant song.

Maybe not all country music. The Dad was a fan of Deano Day, the morning DJ on WDEE, Detroit's country station while I was growing up. I liked the old stuff and the Outlaw stuff but really could have done without the novelty hits and hillbilly stuff. I still cringe at the thought of Conway Twitty.

Oh, and I loved the story songs like Phantom 309.

From the records he bought, one would think that The Dad was a discriminating fan. However. To this day, I still don't understand the man's affection for Hee Haw. I grew to like Buck Owens despite his work on the show. I don't care how good the playing was, the humor was just awful.

Sa-lute!

We both turned away from country about the same time and probably for the same reason. Eddie Rabbit. He was the first to really dilute Nashville country with pop tendencies. Once that cash cow was found there was no stopping it. Kenny Rogers was first at the teat. His early First Edition stuff and his solo albums from the early '70s was fine material that never would have lead anyone to guess the "The Gambler", let alone "Islands in the Stream" were lurking in the future.

I feel better. Now, wheres my parade?

Go in Peace