At some point in my elementary youth, I had a three piece suit. The vest was reversible with two different colors, red and blue as I recall. I very seldom wore the vest on the red side of my own accord. It was around the latter seasons of Man from U.N.C.L.E. We went to a large church with several floors and an elevator.
I have always been able to carry on several trains of thought simultaneously. That’s why I stutter. My mouth doesn’t know which train of thought I want to vocalize. Between Sunday school and the church service, and after church while the grownups talked, kids had relative free time. And I was off on my adventures.
I didn’t really consider myself as Napoleon Solo or Illya Kuryakin. I was like a third agent. A secret part of the team as it were. It was easy to give the impression that I was successfully moving through crowds incognito. Very few of the adults knew me and they wouldn’t have given me another thought past “whose son is that ?”
I would slink onto the elevator – waiting to jump in just before the doors closed. Then I would slink from the elevator to the bathroom in the basement. I could slink with the best of them. Reaching the bathroom I whipped off my coat, quickly reversed my vest, and voilá, instant disguise. I had a pen – actually I had a lot of pens. Both of my aunts on my Dad’s side were elementary school teachers. They would give me a box full of the pens and fillers they had collected through the year. This particular pen looked cool when it was “reversed,” but only had imaginary functionality. It was how I contacted my fellow agents.
Having let the agents know my position and my plan I would slink out the bathroom and up the stairs (never take the same method of travel for the return trip). Then I would slink through the crowd (what did I tell you) popping up by my parents – and again, voilá – I was Dan Roark again. Amazingly enough, no one noticed the difference.
When we got back home I would go off and read a Hardy Boys mystery while planning my mission for the next Sunday. Basking in the glow of a mission accomplished.
Until we slink again….
Keep writing the songs that are in your heart.
Peace be with you.
myself and Joel Nichols as Southern Plains – beginning with Bruce Gibson and so forth – with two unreleased songs from my Chasing After Wind sessions that we played as Southern Plains, but I did all the parts. Then I bought a cassette to digital device that allowed me to revive most of the Southern Plains recordings. I was anal about recording practices, shows, etc. back then. After I add songs to complete Southern Plains Revisited, who knows what recordings I’ll have for future releases. I should release the first single from the cd in the next few weeks.
So I spent last week social distancing my butt to Colorado to pick up Sally and bring her back for her brother, Sam, to be interred in Ft. Worth. Due to Covid-19, it will only be Sally and her cousin at the graveside. Her older brother, Kenny, lives in the area, but he doesn’t get around well.
was not as heavy as “usual,” but considerably heavier than on the highway. We picked up barbecue from 
I was driving to Chattanooga last Wednesday for my show on Thursday at 
Chasing After Wind 