RED DIRT ROAD

I enjoy music. I’m a big fan of groups like the Beatles, Cream, Rolling Stones, Doors, Eagles and even a few modern bands like Foo Fighters. Individual stars like Eric Clapton, John Mayer, David Gray and James Taylor also make my list. I’m not much of a country & western fan, but there are a few songs I’ve heard over the years that have caught my attention.

I think all of us enjoy music of some variety. Sometimes it’s the tune that is so catching. Many times, however, I think it’s the words of the song that catches us…as if they were written for us, or about us. Maybe those words bring back memories, sometimes sad, but hopefully happy memories.

One such song for me happens to be a country & western tune by Kix Brooks and Ronnie Dunn, called ‘Red Dirt Road’.

My early years of childhood were in a little farm community in southern Indiana…a town called Owensville. There is something comforting, even to this day, about that little town. When I lived there, our home was just 2 blocks from downtown. I say ‘downtown’ with a smile on my face. Downtown was basically one block, with the old library in the center, and businesses across the street to the north and east.

The library sat in the center of the block with the remainder of the grounds being trees, a small band shell, and a monument to the local men and women who have served in our wars. Across the street to the north was the old church I attended, General Baptist, a grocery store, the 'Star Echo' building where the local paper was made and distributed once a week, the hardware store where my dad worked for 25 years, and a filling station. Across the street to the east of the library was the corner drug store where I’d go to get a sack full of penny candy, the bank, the pool hall, the five and dime, two restaurants, the post office, and another grocery store, the Red & White.

That was downtown Owensville as I remember it in the early 1960s. A simple life. There was no movie theater, no mall, no big name stores, not even a stop light.

A few blocks down the street was the school which held all grades from kindergarten through high school…all in one building. The school, from where my parents, brothers, sisters, cousins, nieces and nephews graduated, and I attended for 3 years.

The school is now long gone…torn down and a grassy lot remains. It and the other little nearby town’s schools were consolidated to one large school many miles away. The old gymnasium has been converted into a community center and memorabilia hall for class photos, old sports trophies, letter jackets and sweaters from years past. Class reunions meet there each year, among other community activities.

Much of the downtown has gone the way of other cities’ downtowns. The hardware store closed long ago. The corner drug store is torn down. The grocery stores are gone, no longer able to compete with the bigger city stores and Walmart, 15 miles away. The pool hall is still there. A few other little shops have taken over a few of the places. One restaurant still remains, still serving great food.

Most importantly, the wonderful people and the spirit of the small town is still there.

While visiting earlier this summer, I ran into a familiar face at the restaurant...coach Kenny Sharp and his wife. He was a teacher and the ‘young’ coach of the basketball team and other school sports, when I was there nearly 50 years ago. He was a classmate of my sister Joan. He and his wife didn’t remember me by appearance…until I reminded them of who I was…Wayne & Martha’s boy, Joan’s little brother. Oh yes, now they remember…little Danny. Some years before, when I was in town for a funeral of a distant family member, several people approached me to say they remembered me as the little red-headed, freckle-faced boy, and how much they loved my dad and my sister Joan. My sister lived in Owensville until her death. My dad moved back to Owensville after I married and, too, lived there until his death. The simple life of Owensville, where you can still be remembered, even when you haven’t lived there for over 40 years.

Well, it’s that simple life that is the theme of Red Dirt Road. “I was raised off of rural route 3/Out where the blacktop ends/We’d walk to church on Sunday morning/Race barefoot back to Johnson’s fence.”

Part of the chorus says, “I learned the path to heaven is full of sinners and believers/Learned that happiness on earth aint just for high achievers/I’ve come to know there’s life at both ends of that red dirt road.”

Most of my family, including myself, have taken that small road out of Owensville to move away to other parts of the world. We’ve taken on a different lifestyle, have good jobs, earn a good living, live in nice homes, and enjoy the benefits of a bigger city. My niece and nephew, and their children, still live in Owensville, living a different lifestyle than ours…a seemingly simpler life, having good jobs and nice homes, and the benefits of a small town.

I love my niece and nephew. They are Joan’s children. They are as wonderful as my sister.

I think of them…and the rest of my family…when I hear Red Dirt Road. Those that left that small town, those that stayed there.

We’ve each found life…good lives…at both ends, of that Red Dirt Road.

Dan