Hurtin', Leavin', and Longin (52)—The Possum (and Old Hank)

A year ago on Round and Square (27 April 2012)—La Pensée Cyclique: Mulan Granet-a
Click here for the introduction to the Round and Square series "Hurtin', Leavin', and Longin,"

[a] Pride of Beaumont RF

It was quite a run, and a good five decades longer than anyone might have expected. Almost from the crew cut beginning, "The Possum" was en route to being another Hank Williams, and on multiple levels, at that. I knew that he was a great songwriter and performer. I also knew that he missed a lot of shows, was a problematic husband, and was idiosyncratic on the road—touring or driving. He drank too much and, for a long time, did too many drugs. All of these parallels he shared with Old Hank. What surprised me the most, though, was something he did just a little bit differently. Not only did he make it past his third decade...he lived into his ninth. This is a stunner, of sorts.

[b] Texas Sunset RF

Let me explain.

George Jones died today at the age of eighty one. He was one of the great country music performers of all time, and had Billboard number one hits in each of five different decades—the 1950s, 1960s, 1970s, 1980s, and 1990s. His classic "He Stopped Loving Her Today" was ranked the number one country song of all time by Country America magazine in the mid-1990s, and he is one of a handful of artists whose "Greatest Hits" have to be abridged so as to fit into DVD compilations smaller than Edward Gibbon's Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. There's a lot of stuff there.

The obituaries are rolling in. Let's take a look at the New York Times version:

NYTimes George Jones

If you read all of the way to the end, you know that, during one of his many bouts of heavy drinking, his wife hid all of the keys to his cars. So he drove the lawn mower into Beaumont to buy more liquor. 

[c] So country...RF

That was George Jones.

His was also was a passionate, mellifluous voice of unapologetic country. He was so country that he didn't need to wear a cowboy hat. He was so country that when he opened his mouth and began strumming his guitar, you just knew it was going to be good. He was so country that...country stations didn't play him much once they made the sappy turn in the 1990s to bubble-gum wannabe-cowboy music. Through it all, George just kept drinking, missing shows, and selling more and more records (not a few of which went to paying earlier debts). 

If Drinkin' Don't Kill Me (Her Memory Will) 2:56

[d] 1A RF

He finally shaped up (with the help of a great spouse), and got his life more-or-less together. That powered him into his eighties. What we have with George, then, is five decades that Old Hank never was able to give us. George Jones's career is worth pondering in its own right. I, for one, though, can't help but wonder what those five decades might have meant for a possible Hank Williams life. 

They were the best—1A and 1AA (again, in more ways than one). And on that note, let's listen (again) to George Jones (and Mark Chesnutt) singing about Old Hank:

Meetin' Hank 3:09

Somewhere right now, I like to imagine Hank and George sharing a bottle of white lightning, talking about the last century or so, and wondering what happened to country music.

Who's Gonna Fill Their Shoes? 3:16

[e] Shoes RF