It’s hard for me to talk about some of the things that happened during the like and times of Sherrena because they make no since to me at all… There for hard to tell… After I did a little nursing home work I moved on. I realized the sadness of it all was getting to me… The constant loving and dieing… It’s really strange how you can’t stand for the old to die… even though they have lived a long and happy life; it’s still hard to let them go…. I think that’s just the selfishness in us all. We can’t stand for something to be “taken” from us… I’ve noticed that this word, taken, is used a lot on the bottom of deer heads hanging on walls… “Taken this day by: ______” you can fill in the blank your self…
Now moving on meant really MOVING. And it just so happened I moved to a little town that had 5 nursing homes, an out of town beer store, one convenience store and two traffic lights. I bet you can’t guess where I went to work at….. I had moved in with my mom and grand mother, for a little while (I bounced around between her and my dad) and it turned out to be pretty fun really… My grand mother was a sneak drinker… I don’t know if you know what that is but let me explain…. I call a sneak drinker a person who is ashamed of drinking… my grand mother would never drink out of a clear glass!… To do so would be telling the world she was drinking…. No she would use coffee and tea cups or anything you couldn’t see through… My mother was the exact opposite…I on the other hand couldn’t stand the smell of the alcohol on their breath! This in fact turned me the other way from being a drinker… watching THEM…. Now the next thing I’m about to say might shock some of you….twenty five years ago, in rural Texas, the thing to do was load up in your car, drive to the liquor store and then drive back slow until you got drunk as hell…well that and have sex… So a lot of kids and older people choose the drinking… I started wearing MY seat belt before the Law ever TOLD us too. Riding around on the back roads of Texas with two drunken Indian women was not my idea of a safe ride! I would have rather been trampled by a heard of buffalo and picked clean by buzzards… My grand mother stopped at EVERY water puddle that crossed the road and took off her shoes and washed her feet… …… WHO KNOWS?!…… I have no idea… I do know that they never got mean and they always had a good time together…and this made the trip with them every week bearable. Now occasionally we drove the 50 miles to a dance hall.. It was there, at a young age, that I learned the art of flirting… Now my grand ma and mom were old school… young to them meant under 14.… That was just one more thing my dad thought was crazy about my mother… If my dad had his way back then?… I never would have lived with my mother. At least not in his life time… turns out he out lived her…and seems like no one could ever really tell how old the three of us were… They never though three generations… they always thought my grand mother was my mother and my mom my sister….This flattered both of them… I on the other hand wasn’t as flattered… But I truly loved them…. and as I look back on those times?… Well I wouldn’t trade those drunken back road drives for any thing in the world….
Gentle on my mind
It's knowing that your door is always open and your path is free to walk
That makes me tend to leave my sleeping bag rolled up and stashed behind your couch
And it's knowin' I'm not shacked by forgotten words and bons
And the ink stains that have dried upon some line
That keeps you in the back roads by the rivers of my mem'ry
That keeps you ever gentle on my mind
It's not clinging to the rocks and I'd be planted on their columns now that binds me
Or somethin' that somebody said because they thought we fit together walking
It's just knowin' that the world will not be cursing or forgiving
When I walk along some railroad track and find
That you're moving on the back roads by the rivers of my mem'ry
And for hours you're just gentle on my mind
Though the wheet fields and the clothes lines
And the junk yards and the highways come between us
And some other woman cryin' to her mother cause she turned and I was gone
I still might run in silence tears of joy might stain my face
And a summer sun might burn me till I'm blind
But not to where I cannot see you walkin' on the back roads
By the rivers flowing gentle on my mind
I dipped my cup of soap back from a gurglin' cracklin' caltron in some train yard
My beard a roughen coal pile and a dirty hat pulled down across my face
Through cupped hands around a tin can I pretend I hold you to my breast and find
That you're waving from the back roads by the rivers of my mem'ry
Ever smiling ever gentle on my mind
well that failed miserably.... After I got a look at all that stuff that could be changed 
I decided against it..... 
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