{"id":39778,"date":"2017-05-23T09:40:44","date_gmt":"2017-05-23T15:40:44","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.thelocalvoice.net\/oxford\/?p=39778"},"modified":"2017-07-06T10:08:09","modified_gmt":"2017-07-06T16:08:09","slug":"the-view-from-the-balcony-with-randy-weeks","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.thelocalvoice.net\/oxford\/the-view-from-the-balcony-with-randy-weeks\/","title":{"rendered":"The View from The Balcony with Randy Weeks"},"content":{"rendered":"

Hal & Mal\u2019s<\/strong> has long been my favorite haunt in Jackson<\/strong>. When I lived there I was a Wednesday night regular. After church choir practice I\u2019d go hear The Vernon Brothers<\/strong> play bluegrass while my friend, Ron Welch<\/strong>, and I drank beer and smoked cigarettes.<\/span><\/p>\n

On Saturday night, May 6, 2017, I found myself standing in the men\u2019s restroom at Hal & Mal\u2019s, reading the quotes about Elvis that are painted on the walls. I began to swoon. I reached for the motorcycle handles above the urinal, but they were painted on, too, so I frantically latched onto the flush handle. Suddenly I was flooded with Elvis memories.<\/span><\/p>\n

I remembered standing in my parent\u2019s den on August 17, 1977, hearing the news of Elvis\u2019 death announced on TV. I recalled the Elvis concert I went to 42 years and a day before in Jackson. Then, from the deepest, darkest part of my psyche, THE Elvis memory bubbled up through a steaming pool of melted vinyl.<\/span><\/p>\n

By all rights I should not be here. My older sisters should have taken me out when I was about 10 years old. They had good reason.<\/span><\/p>\n

Growing up in the 50s and 60s with two older sisters meant you had to listen to Elvis\u2014a lot. That\u2019s not a complaint, mind you. My family owned at least two 78 rpm records. One was Hank Williams<\/strong>: \u201cYour Cheatin\u2019 Heart\u201d (side A) and \u201cKaw-Liga\u201d (side B). I LOVED \u201cKaw-Liga\u201d! It was a Jimmy Rogers yodel meets a Comanche war cry\u2014at least the way it was depicted on Wagon Train<\/em>. The other 78 was Elvis: \u201cHound Dog\u201d (side A) and \u201cDon\u2019t Be Cruel\u201d (side B). Both 78s were scratchy, having been played about a billion times, but neither of them skipped.<\/span><\/p>\n

One day I was bored. I wanted to throw a Frisbee, but I didn\u2019t have one. So I improvised. The Cool Whip bowl lids were too small and light to fly right. The 78s? Perfect! Totally flat, substantial in weight, and not the least bit floppy. (For the record, both 78s were made of shellac, not vinyl.) They flew great! I was able to sail them low to the ground so when they landed, back side first, they would skim ten or more feet on the concrete driveway. Groovy, man!<\/span><\/p>\n

Unfortunately, both 78s soon caught the wind, turned sideways, crashed onto the cement, and fell to pieces. Yes, I broke two major records on the same day! To quote the Chips Moman\/Bobby Emmons song, \u201cThey oughta give me the Wulitzer Prize\u201d\u2014one jagged piece at a time, shoved where the sun don\u2019t shine.<\/span><\/p>\n

Realizing what a stupid thing I\u2019d done, I obliterated the evidence. Fire truly is the Devil\u2019s closest friend. As the fragments burned I heard Elvis and Hank wailing desperately, \u201cI\u2019m melting! I\u2019m melting!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Nobody ever said anything about the records. Being a good Baptist, I carried the guilt around for decades, knowing that at any moment the fickle finger of fate was going to strike me down.<\/span><\/p>\n

Once my wooziness in the men\u2019s room had passed I wondered, \u201cCould this have been my punishment?\u201d But I knew that would be all too lenient. I polled my friends on The Balcony as to what they thought my sisters should have done to me. Everyone agreed that a slow, painful death would be justice served. \u201cBut how?\u201d I asked. They were sharply divided between slowly pulling out my fingernails and teeth, or dragging me naked across ten miles of rough concrete into a pool of alcohol.<\/span><\/p>\n

My good friend, Leon, a very insightful man, later said to me, \u201cWeeks, you shoulda kept your mouth shut about them damn records! Now everybody knows what a jerk-ass kid you were. Some things you just don\u2019t tell.\u201d Leon\u2019s probably right. He usually is.<\/span><\/p>\n

I won\u2019t be going to Elvis Fest this year. Now that I\u2019ve confessed my record sin to all of Oxford Town\u2014confession being good for the soul but bad for the reputation\u2014I may go incognito for a while. I\u2019ve got two pair of Elvis sunglasses. I\u2019ll wear them and nobody will recognize me! Yeah. Sure. There\u2019s a King-sized target on my back. You can\u2019t miss it.<\/span><\/p>\n

I\u2019m a dead man walking.<\/span><\/p>\n

And that\u2019s the view from The Balcony.<\/span><\/p>\n

BTW, Thanks to the City for fixing the one-way sign across from The Balcony. Unfortunately the crosswalk on Van Buren at Faulkner Alley remains hazardous. On graduation weekend I saw nearly two dozen people trip there. Three or four fell. One was elderly. Let\u2019s get together and liberally coat the crosswalk with melted records. I\u2019ll donate five of my six Lawrence Welk polka albums. That ought to get things rolling.\u00a0\"The<\/a><\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

\n

This Randy Weeks column first appeared in The Local Voice #279.\u00a0<\/a><\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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