Even now, years since I last played it, the lyrics need no googling. They're burnt into my memory.
Farewell, Dolly Parton. We will always love you.
He was going to either live off-the-grid and plot conspiracy theories or start a band and write songs. He chose the latter, which made my life better.
I remember one Bible belter with a velveteen voice telling us: “Jesus doesn’t need your money, but if I’m going to spread his word, I sure do”.
A few seconds pass. His gaze goes behind the counter. To a small ornate wooden frame. And an image inside. “Is that Mary?” “No. It’s Jesus. It’s a da Vinci. From a museum in Amsterdam.”
We write to each other. About writing, mostly. Its place in our lives. Its ups and downs. Its twists and turns.
I came across a song that I hadn't listened to for ages, a song that when I first heard it, was a real life changing moment.
Dicko invited me to a concert at the Mooroopna Mechanics Institute. On a Sunday night. To see Slim Dusty. I had heard and rejected Slim and his music.
I asked where she was going and she giggled. Said she didn’t know, didn’t care.
Over the years, while my mother’s faith in Christianity declined, her belief in country music only increased.