The Free Bird Had Fell to the Ground – Soapbox, Jr.
"It was October in St. Louis Town
When We Heard That the Free Bird
Had fell to the Ground
We all said a Prayer
"It was October in St. Louis Town
When We Heard That the Free Bird
Had fell to the Ground
We all said a Prayer
"Stopping to give someone a helping hand is not time wasted but time invested. Let’s all make the day count." - Charlie Daniels
Dad was a caring man; Dad was a man of faith, and Dad was a very humble man.
In his memoir, “Never Look at the Empty Seats,” – now in paperback HERE - dad talks about a lot of people he’s met and many aspects of his life. Still, there’s one that he fails to mention, and it’s a story you most likely would not know about unless you subscribed to “The Charlie Daniels Podcast," you can check that episode out HERE
“Opportunity knocks but once, softly, and then moves on swiftly, attune your heart to her call, your ear to her knock, open the door and be blessed. Let’s all make the day count.” – Charlie Daniels
Sage advice from a wise man.
And he knew what he was talking about because it had happened to him on multiple occasions in his lifetime, but I’m going to focus on three pivotal individuals who opened the door for opportunities.
On April 1, 2014 – in what many probably thought was an elaborate April Fool’s Day prank - The CDB released “Off the Grid-Doin’ it Dylan,” a tribute album to Bob Dylan who was a pivotal figure in dad’s career.
It was also the first album of new material released through Blue Hat Records distribution deal with Megaforce Records, which is primarily a heavy metal label, and the original distributor of Metallica’s early recordings
In 1984, the CDB was hard at work on its next release, ‘Honky Tonk Ave.’ The album was loosely based on a short story that dad wrote in his short story collection “The Devil Went Down to Georgia: Stories by Charlie Daniels” which would be released the next year.
The idea was to tie in the story and the album into something along the lines of Willie Nelson’s ‘Redheaded Stranger’ album, where the songs tell a bigger story.
February 2, 1985
Volunteer Jam XI was the last one at Nashville’s Municipal Auditorium, it was a 9-hour spectacle of amazing music and surprises, but what VolJam XI is probably best remembered for is the blizzard that hit the city of Nashville making it impossible for some to actually make it to the show.
Dad said on stage, “I know you went through a hell of a lot to get here because this is the biggest snowstorm I’ve ever seen in Tennessee!”
It’s hard to believe that we’re just a few weeks away from the one-year anniversary of dad’s “changing addresses” – thank you, my spiritual big brother, Bill Wolfenbarger, for the use of that term.
It’s been a doozy of a year, dealing with the aftermath of losing dad, the lingering effects of the pandemic and how that has impacted what we’ve been trying to do business-wise, and the “sadiversaries” that have popped up over the last 11 months.
This upcoming “sadiversary” is the precursor to the biggest one of all, the first Father’s Day without dad in my life, then the one-year anniversary is just around the corner.
*NOTE* Charlie will be back with a brand new soapbox on Monday, in the meantime, here's a rewind from way back in 2003. - TeamCDB/BW
To you who have read this column for years this piece may seem a little redundant since I have written on this subject before. But it is such a frequently asked question that I feel I should revisit it from time
to time.
*NOTE* Charlie will be back with a brand new soapbox on Monday, in the meantime, here's a soapbox rewind from 2009. - TeamCDB/BW
I guess it may be a sign of my advancing age or a healthy case of nostalgia in fond remembrance of a simpler time in my life, but sometimes I find my thoughts wandering back to a time and place in my young life when my responsibilities consisted making sure the wood box was full and keeping my grades above the passing line.
Normally the soapboxes I write are about dad, or something political in nature in the vein of Dad’s soapboxes he regularly wrote when he was still with us.
But with Mother’s Day this weekend, I thought it was appropriate to turn my thoughts to my mom, Hazel Daniels.
As I have said before, mom had a lot to deal with when I was growing up. Not that I was a particularly bad kid, or anything, but dad was on the road most of the year, so she was almost a single mother for long periods of time.
We did everything together, and she always took care of me.
This weekend, perhaps even tonight, I will complete my annual Easter tradition, even though it is not exactly something I am looking forward to. In fact, it’s pretty embarrassing on some levels.
If things go according to plan, a box of Kleenex will be involved, as it has in the past, and I have no doubt that will be the case yet again.
If this piece is going to have any impact, it cannot be viewed through partisan eyes, conservative, liberal, Republican, Democrat. Preconceived political prejudice and implacable attitudes must be cast aside.
“Who controls the past controls the future; who controls the present controls the past.” – ‘1984’ George Orwell
Happy New Year, such as it is…
I’ve been struggling on what to write for several days now and have started over at least four times as things are changing drastically from day to day.
The upcoming vote was touted as a referendum on the president.
The cases had been made, the public listened to the arguments for both sides, and the big day had finally arrived. The excitement in the air was evident, and voter turnout was expected to be historic. The lines were longer than normal with many voters standing in line for hours to enthusiastically to cast their votes.
People seemed to like the stories about Twin Pines Ranch, so I thought I’d relate a few more memories of growing up there.
As I mentioned previously, we moved between my 8th and 9th-grade year in junior high from Mt. Juliet proper out to Twin Pines which was closer to Gladeville, “Where Softball is King.”
Time sure flies, hard to believe we are in November, and it’s almost Thanksgiving. But it’s upon us.
A couple of months ago, I wrote about wearing a pair of dad’s shoes which mom gave me, and the overall metaphor of literally of walking in dad’s shoes.