On Robin Williams and the Falling of Stars

Beloved entertainers touch us on a personal level. They make us laugh and cry. They accompany us through the highs and lows of our lives, and they have a special place in our cherished memories. No, they don't know us, but we feel that we know them. So when one of them leaves us, it is a personal loss, and we grieve. And because they are loved by millions, their passing takes precedent over the hard news of the day, which -- although it may be more critical in the scheme of things -- usually involves persons with whom we have not emotionally bonded. That's why you're hearing so much about Robin Williams today. His was a death in many families. Requiescat in pace.

Zoomer Roberts
12 August 2014

Grand Ole Opry Pioneers

An overview of early Opry performers by Zoomer Roberts
Broadcast 26 July 2014 on KTEP radio
Your host is Gregg Carthy

 

A Tribute to Pete Seeger

Zoomer Roberts: vocal, harmonica & commentary
Buddy Winston: guitar
Robin Russell & Ophelia Botham: harmony vocals

from the KTEP Folk Fury broadcast of 22 Feb. 2014
your host is Gregg Carthy

Cell Phones

"Cell phones! Bah! The phone belongs at the house -- plugged into the wall!"

The old man leaned forward in his rocking chair and spat a wad of tobacco juice at a weathered spittoon, which it entered with a dull clang. Wiping his mouth on his shirt sleeve, he resumed rocking.

"These dayum people," he grumbled. "They think the whole world's their livin' room. They carry those dayum phones around and talk everywhere -- at the store, at the pitcher show, in the cafe..."

He spat again. "Hell, they drive down the street yappin' on the dayum things. They'll run over you!"

His eyes narrowed. "In my day, you did your callin' in a phone booth, where no one could hear you. You could make a phone call for a nickel -- if you HAD a nickel."

"People were more considerate then," he mused. The old man's voice trailed off, and the only sound was the slow creaking of the rocking chair. He gazed at a long-ago horizon and sighed.

23 April 2014

A Dentis Tree Grows In Oz

Zoomer had dental work done today.
On the bright side, it resulted in this collaboration with Jim Kalafus.
(introduction by Ophelia Botham)

Scrape scrape here, drill drill there
And a roll of dental floz
That certain air of dental care
In the merry old land of Oz

Chip chip here, scratch scratch there
sends a shooting pain through my jaws.
That's how we hack the plaque away
In the merry old land of Oz.

Cut cut here, yank yank there,
with forceps and pliers and saws.
That how we take decay away
in the merry old land of Oz.

We get your jaw all dulled with Novocain.
take two hours to drill
and by then you're in pain ...
So we numb you again.

Drill down deep 'til the blood does seep
Into a wad of gauze
And dribble spittle on your bib
In the merry old land of Oz

We will drill and drill and drill until you howl
Then we'll tell you that
you need a root canal
(Give him a towel!)

Crown crown here. Implant there.
Ten thousand bucks in your maw.
That's how we drain your pay away
in the merry old land of Oz.

Family Reunion ~ June 1998

A family reunion is hairy
We gather at the cemetery
Let us not dawdle or tarry
You may be the next one we bury

Zoomer Roberts
1 March 2014

Good morning, Carl!

I didn't know Carl Isminger well, but I always said "hello" to him on Sunday mornings. He sat on the right, close to the back, reading his Bible. I would turn down the bulletins proffered at the door so my right hand would be free to shake his as I passed by.

One Sunday he told me in great detail how Detroit re-tooled itself to make jeeps, tanks and bombers during World War II -- but usually he just returned my "good morning" and kept reading his Bible.

Carl was buried today. In my mind's eye he is still sitting in his pew, but he won't be there next Sunday. Nor the Sunday after that.

"Good morning, Carl!" I'll say that to him again one of these days.

Zoomer Roberts
24 Feb. 2014

Installation Hymn for Rev. Jessica Vaughan Lower (unused)

I'm ecstatic! I'm enthralled!
I'm about to be installed!
There is joy and love and rapture in my soul!
When my name is writ in gold
With the Presbyters of old,
I will say a blessing o'er the casserole!

Casserole! (Casserole!)
Casserole! (Casserole!)
I will say a blessing o'er the casserole! (Casserole!)

Grab yourself a paper plate
And a plastic fork and wait
While I say a blessing o'er the casserole!

Zoomer Roberts
28 October 2013

George Jones Retrospective

Broadcast on KTEP, 18 May 2013
Hosted by Gregg Carthy & Zoomer Roberts

Click Here to Listen

Roberts Family History

LISTEN HERE!
 

Read by my Grandmother Roberts
Recorded by Gil and Anna Wright circa 1955.

Hank Williams 60th & 90th Anniversaries Retrospective

Listen to part 1
Listen to part 2

KTEP "Folk Fury" radio broadcast, 26 January 2013
A celebration of Hank Williams' recorded legacy
Edited by Zoomer Roberts
Hosted by Gregg Carthy and Zoomer Roberts

Woody Guthrie Centennial Retrospective

Listen to part 1
Listen to part 2

KTEP "Folk Fury" radio broadcast, 11 August 2012
A celebration of Woody Guthrie's recorded legacy
Edited by Zoomer Roberts
Hosted by Gregg Carthy and Zoomer Roberts

The Pollen Is Appallin'

There's no appeasin' the reason for sneezin'
The season is seizin' the land and the seas 'n'
The flowers and the trees 'n' the birds and the bees 'n'
When Hades is freezin' I'll rise from my knees 'n'
Embrace the cool breeze in its autumnal teasin'
And die from my wheezin'.

22 March 2009

Gran

My Grandmother Roberts lived in or around Sulphur Springs, Texas for over 70 years. When she was widowed and all her children had moved away, she stayed put. We saw her for a few days every summer, and one year all the kids and grandkids convened at Aunt Gwen's house in Garland to have Christmas with her, but that was it. Every year she sent me a birthday card with a dollar bill and a stick of Wrigley's chewing gum in it.  A move to a house on Aunt Anna's property in Wimberley was short-lived. She returned to Sulphur Springs and stayed there until she died. She rented rickety frame houses -- the kind they used to move on flatbed trailers -- and clung to her stuff: a kitchen safe, a chiffarobe, boxes of ancient telegrams. It smelled old. She had extension cords plugged into the kitchen light bulb socket. She wrote long letters with a fountain pen, wore out a King James Bible, listened to her Zenith table radio, and sat on her front porch and watched the cars, people, and weather go by. She kept a bottle of wine around for medicinal purposes, stashed under the sink behind the Bab-O so the preacher wouldn't see it when he came to call. She stayed there, and she stayed, and she stayed.

She was the only one of my grandparents still living when I was born, so this is all of the grandparent/grandchild experience I've known. I see a lot of her in my own makeup, and that's okay. I came by it honestly.

She died on this date in 1976, six days after her 91st birthday. My brother and I drove to Sulphur Springs to bear the pall. She's still there. She stayed there.

13 June 2011

When my brother Don was about 16, he ought an old Hudson for $50. Daddy gave him "driving lessons," which amounted to Daddy driving the Hudson out to Newman with us two boys in tow, hoisting a few beers at either the Last Roundup or Club 54, and Don driving us back home. Daddy would always give me money for the jukebox, and I always selected "Tennessee Waltz" by Patti Page. I would tell you today that I liked the chords and the duet harmony (which she also sang). But as a child of 8, I only knew it was real pretty.

Patti Page died yesterday at the age of 85. The evening news played a few measures of that old record as part of the story, and I thought of my brother, and my father, and the Hudson, and Newman, and the vast expanse of desert that existed between the city limits and the state line a half-century ago. All of it is gone now, except for that song -- and my memories.