Gentle on My Mind
Lex
I Wish I Was 18 again
By Stephen L. Wilmeth
My uncle sent
us the new Allison Krauss album, Windy City.
I had been listening to SiriusXM
Roadhouse recently when she was being interviewed and, intermittently, the host
would play a track from it. One of those featured songs was the great John
Hartford creation, Gentle on My Mind,
sung originally be Glenn Campbell.
Knowing how
much he liked Ms. Krauss, I tried to hook Uncle Bill up on the phone to listen
to at least part of the song, but, between the new feature in the pickup
cutting off the radio play with a phone connection and wanting to hear the song,
I quickly abandoned the call and listened to an absolutely angelic performance.
I called him immediately afterward and told him he had to get the album.
He not only
got himself one he sent us one as well. It is a sensational compilation of
work. If you are a child of the ‘50s and ‘60s, it will flood your senses with
memories.
Gentle on My Mind
We first
saw Glenn Campbell in the fall of 1968 at the New Mexico State Fair. Just two
kids not yet 18, we were already too far in love to know any better. I was
staying with my uncle and aunt and she was staying with her aunt and cousins,
but our quest was the state fair for the first time and to see Glenn in
concert. We had been dropped off and the fair was ours to see on our big night.
We didn’t have tickets to the concert, but we naively expected to be able to
walk up to the ticket booth and buy two.
The concert
was in the rodeo arena and we could hear Glenn already singing as we learned
that the concert had been sold out long before it started. Standing there no
doubt looking forlorn we caught the attention of an older gentleman serving as
an usher at the event. He asked us what we were doing and we told him we had
wanted to see the concert and had no idea there would be no tickets available.
He reaffirmed the fact the show was sold out and there were no seats.
I think we
asked if we could just stand there on the concourse and listen, and he started
to say no before he paused and said, “Just a minute.”
He climbed
the stairwell and was gone just a short time when he reappeared and motioned
for us to follow him. We got to him and he escorted us to an entrance and
directed us to a stairway into the arena and told us to go sit down at the end
of the stairs against the arena rail.
“Promise me
you will stay right there,” he instructed.
“Oh, yes
sir,” we both said. “Yes, sir, and thank you so much, sir!”
“You kids
have a good time,” he smiled.
Glenn was
singing Gentle On My Mind as we sat
down in the wonder of that magical moment. No more than 50 feet from us on a portable
stage that was slowing turning, he looked at us and we knew for a fact it was
us he acknous wledged. He smiled, but I am sure our smiles were larger yet.
It’s knowing that your door is always open
and your path is free to walk he sang only to us we were sure.
Lex
Kathy and I
saw Lex and Arlene at a Las Cruces
gun show a couple of years ago. We had not seen them in years, and it was
Arlene we saw first. We hugged her and visited before we asked about Lex. She
said he was somewhere in the hall carrying an old automatic rifle around trying
to get somebody to notice it and buy it. We found him and gathered together. It
was as if we had seen them yesterday. Lex was the same guy that day as he was all
those years more than a half century ago when he and I first met. Always
marching to his own beat, he could be hilarious.
Without a
doubt in my mind, he was the most talented athlete in our class. He was also
the most talented little leaguer in the Silver City
league we played in as kids. We never had an official little league field, but
played in an old field on the eastern edge of town dubbed “Sticker Stadium”.
The goat heads were as thick as a lawn and the field was rough enough to strike
terror in your heart trying to field hot grounders while avoiding wicked hops
that’d take your head off.
As little
leaguers, the ‘glory’ positions were catching, pitching, playing first or short
stop, but not for Lex. He wanted to play center field and roamed the deep
outfield just hoping to shag a deep drive. Seldom was a ball hit out by 10-12
year olds and there were some years not a single one was driven out.
I really
slapped one one night and stood there and watched it in near Babe Ruth fashion
just sure it was gone. The sails were emptied just as quickly, though, when Lex
came out of nowhere, leaped high, and caught it against and over the fence in
deepest center field. It was a spectacular catch. It was more so for a 12 year
old kid. I walked dejectedly back to the dugout and started putting my gear to
catch when Mr. Mortensen sat down by me, patted me on the leg, and told me only
Lex could have caught that ball.
Catch it he
did, though. Lex and his Elk’s Club team were always competitive. They weren’t
deep in talent, but they had the best player in the league. The only time we actually
played together was on an all star team that was defeated by the eventual state
champion team in an extra innings 1-0 game.
Later, when
playing football and basketball filled our lives, Lex was never part of those
teams. I assume he didn’t want to play or maybe it was his propensity to walk
to his own drum and snare deep hit fly balls. He continued to play baseball, but
would have been a sensational wide receiver in football and a slashing forward
in basketball. He could run like a deer, jump out of the gym, and his eye hand
coordination was superb. He was the only one of us who had the talent to play
division one or even professional sports. With a bit more intensity and killer
instinct, there is no telling what could have happened.
It was
Dusty who told me that Lex was sick. We tried to see him when I spent a day last
year with Dusty looking at his Flying A Ranch. Lex and Arlene had bought some
acreage on the Redrock Road
where they built their home, and, on the way to look at a new solar unit Dusty
had installed, we stopped. No one was home, and I suspect now the couple was in
Tucson or
wherever Lex was being treated.
I never saw
him again, but … we will return home to Silver City
and be at the celebration of his life this very afternoon at 2:00.
I Wish I Was 18 Again
That your waving from the back roads by the
rivers of my memory ever smiling ever gentle on my mind the stanza ended.
I’ll
suggest Glenn smiled at us again, but it has been too long ago to really
remember anything but the charm of the lady who was to become my life’s mate
and friend as she sat next to me holding my hand and listening to that song. We
have endured and succeeded as did Lex and Arlene. We have two daughters as do
Lex and Arlene. We have beautiful grandchildren as do Lex and Arlene.
But, where
on earth do these years go?
I could be
nostalgic and quote Louis Armstrong or even Ray Price and wish I was 18 again,
but I won’t. I don’t want to be 18 again. It isn’t just because it is impossible,
but why should we want something uncertain when proven broad shoulders march
ahead of us. These are the same, familiar shoulders that flood our memories
when things like this happen or when we hear the words of songs that were ours
when we were 18 and going where we had never been before.
Indeed, we
were children of our own world. We were together when we didn’t know much about
anything outside of Grant
County, and, now, we
mourn together when one of us leaves. That is what we share, and, in the end,
isn’t that great among earthly gifts?
Stephen L. Wilmeth is a rancher from southern New Mexico. “William
Alexander (Lex) Schadel was called to his Heavenly Home on Good Friday, April 14, 2017.”
2 comments:
Surely do enjoy Mr Wilmeth's contributions here on your great blog. Thank you sir.
Funny, woke up 330 ish this am to Wichita Lineman playing between the ears. Couldn't purge it outta the ol' cabeza....needed to git up anyway......soapweed
"Driving down the road today, saw a dead head sticker on a Cadillac..... little voice inside my head said 'don't look back, you can never look back'"...,
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