Traveling Shoes
Well, durn. A classmate. High school, 1964. Has died. Speedy Sparks. I can’t say I knew him well. But I knew him. I was editor of the paper and his was a name I came across quite often. I ran into him in person many, many years later when we were gathering for a reunion and I was on the organizing committee. It was Luckenbach. I was there with my two sons and grandson to hear the Texas Tornados. He played bass. We had a cordial chat, and that was that.
In the following years, I’d mostly see him at the Saxon Pub either before or after shows I was there to see. We’d talk, and it was sweet that he remembered my name, because he really had no call to do so. Now he’s gone, and it’s nice to see the music community mourning his passing. I hope he had a good life. It seems like he did. I guess it’s hard not to when you have talent and always seem to have a smile on your face.
Of course, now I’m reminded of my mortality, and that’s happening more and more often these days. Not much to say about that. After all, I've been on this earth a long time. And if the end isn’t near, it’s somewhere close by, lurking. Obviously, close by is a relative term, and I’m doing my best to give it a wide berth. But I’m getting ready, because like the song says, when death does come knocking on my front door, I want to bend down, buckle on my shoes and shout "Hallelujah, done, done my duty. Got on my travelin' shoes". And you can thank Ruthie Foster for that.