Just picture this: It is 1973. A shiny new four door Cadillac Sedan pulls up to the curb on Christmas morning. Eldon, the third of Pearl’s sons, opens the driver's side back door to reveal that he has taken the back seat out completely, placed hay on the floor of the automobile, and loaded a few Shetland ponies into the passenger space! Pearl yells across the lawn, “Get those Shetland ponies out of here Eldon!” Eldon yells back. “I brought ‘em for the kids to ride!” And so begins another epic Christmas party at Pearl’s house! Is that not wild? And is that not wonderful? This is why I often refer to this bunch as my “wild and wonderful” Texas cattle ranching family.
Every year someone would dress up as Santa. I remember being so thrilled I thought my head would pop off as I heard that first magical jingle of the sleigh bells. We could always hear them coming a good ninety seconds before the chosen Santa would round the corner into the living room. With eyes the size of chestnuts we would wait to see what would happen next. The sheer clamor and grandeur of it all was intoxicating for a kid like me. Pearl, “Mamaw Cluck” always sat in an ornate wingback chair near the fireplace, perched there like true royalty in my eyes.
Today, as I look out the windows of the home we are temporarily renting while I'm here in Texas working on the album, the wind is blowing so hard and fast I can barely see the barn out back through the dirt hanging in the air. It is another one of those days which don’t come anywhere near as often as they did in the dirty thirties, but they do still come. They now serve as a jolting reminder of what Pearl and her children survived, placing wet blankets over windows and piling ten children into the living room to ride out another “black storm” in the mid 1930’s.
Today, dirt is blowing right through the shattered windows of rusted out cars and collapsing buildings with barely attached sheets of corrugated tin flapping about wildly all across Hansford County. It’s a striking view of a desperate contrast to Pearl's Christmas parties of the 70’s. Things were new then. Brick buildings for local businesses were still burgeoning, streets were still being paved, sidewalks were being laid, houses were newly built and still being decorated. Schools were expanding and playgrounds had shiny new equipment.
In the beautiful hills of Tennessee where we permanently live, it is easy to hide the remnants among the trees - the eyesores that point to the alarming decay that has mushroomed all across this country over the decades. Here, out on the wide open high plains, all small towns sadly now look too much like scaled down versions of the wrong side of Detroit. There’s a tangible hopelessness attached to these scenes, small town after small town across this land. So how do we press through like Homer and Pearl? How do we get back to the average American Commoner sowing and reaping themselves into wingback chairs by the fireplace on Christmas morning staring into the faces of four generations having the time of their life? I believe there is yet hope and I want to share that hope with you in tomorrow’s blog, right after I release the Christmas song, “Pearl” tomorrow morning! I can’t wait!
On Christmas Eve, I will be releasing the Christmas song from the twelve song story album about my wild and wonderful Texas cattle ranching family. The song is called “Pearl” and tells the story of our first Texas generation mother and matriarch. This song features the voices of the "Lil Cluck Choir" made up of sixth generation Cluck kids. These are Pearl’s great, great, great, grandchildren! The kids sing along with me as I teach them one of Pearl's "funny little sayings nobody understood" - the meaning of which will be revealed in this blog series.
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