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A long, long time ago, I can still remember…

February 7, 2012 By Talya Tate Boerner

Buddy Holly

February 3, 1959. Every year at this time, we pause to reflect and remember the sad, cold, day the music suddenly died.

Buddy Holly, only a year and a half into his promising career (he opened for Elvis in 1955!), was top billing on a 24 day tour through the Midwest with the Big Bopper and Ritchie Valens. On an early morning flight flown by a very young pilot, the music died in an Iowa cornfield in a blizzard. Holly was 22 years old. His bass player, Waylon Jennings, was scheduled to fly on that plane, but he gave his seat up to the Big Bopper who was under the weather. His guitarist, Tommy Allsup, flipped a coin with Valens for the last seat. Valens ‘won’.  This turn of events and the short musical career of Holly impacted music worldwide. In ways we can’t imagine.

Buddy Holly’s records influenced both John Lennon and George Harrison. The cover of the first Rollin Stones’ single released in the United States was the cover of Buddy Holly’s “Not Fade Away”.  And if Waylon Jennings had been on that plane??? My life would have been decidedly different. I was raised on Willie and Waylon…

In the early seventies, my sister and I practiced cheers and cartwheels for hours at a time in the front yard with the radio blaring. American Pie was our favorite cartwheel and herkie practicing song.  We sang it off key and loudly as we ran from one end of the yard to the other trying to get up the speed and nerve to flip. We didn’t really understand the song’s meaning —most of the phrases were mysterious, almost like a riddle. And back then we couldn’t google the lyrics or press the back button on the iPod, we had to wait until the next time it played on the radio. Fortunately it was regularly played.

Bye-Bye Miss American Pie. We liked pie. Papa Homer made the best fried peach pies! And, we loved the Miss America pageant, so therefore it was a good song. One of the highlights of the year was watching the Miss America pageant with Nana. We stayed up late, each picked our favorite contestant, cheered like crazy for Miss Arkansas even though she rarely won, and fell asleep on the floor right before it was over.

Drove My Chevy to the Levee. We knew all about driving ‘chevys to the levees’. Daddy drove a chevy. It always smelled dusty inside, from driving up and down the turnrows. And we lived only a couple of miles from the Mississippi River. A huge levee kept our mighty river in check. We often drove over the levee in Osceola or Wilson just to make sure the river was still there.

Drinking Whiskey and Rye. My sister and I knew what  ‘drinking whiskey’ was. Daddy had a whole liquor cabinet full of the stuff.  I wasn’t so sure about what rye was though…

And While the King was Looking Down. Obviously the King was Elvis. Everyone knew that. We drove by Graceland all the time. We practically knew Elvis.

Helter Skelter in a Summer Swelter. – Okay this was where the song started to get a little freaky. Charles Manson had murdered that poor Sharon Tate.  SameLastNameAsUs!!  That was a little too close to home for me. The song was reeeaaalllly long, and I thought Mr. McLean could have left this part out altogether.

A Generation Lost in Space. Easy peesy. We saw the moon landing at school. In first grade. Plus, my mother nearly got us kicked out of the Pink Palace Museum in Memphis for taking a picture of the moon rock. They tried to take her camera but she wasn’t about to let that happen. It was embarrassing, and on my birthday…  Just this once, couldn’t she not draw attention to us?

No Angel Born in Hell Could Break that Satan’s Spell. Well that was scary. I was a good little Baptist girl. No one had to explain the devil to me.

The last verse was just plain sad. The tempo was slower, and I wanted to cry when I thought about how the music wouldn’t play. But overall, it was the best song I’d ever heard. It gave me much to think about while practicing my cartwheels.

Grace Grits and Gardening
Musical Pairing:
Don McLean, American Pie

 

But It’s Only Water Weight!

February 1, 2012 By Talya Tate Boerner

Today marks the beginning of my 4th month! So far so good. I feel happy and calm and have really begun to enjoy the changes that are developing in my life. I’m taking better care of myself, eating organic and limiting red meat. And I sleep better. My friends have told me I have a glow.  The glow of retirement.  YesPleaseAndThankYou!

I retired from my 25 year banking career at State Bank & Trust on Halloween.  As I enter into my 2nd trimester of retirement, I think I’ve only gained 5 pounds.  But I don’t really know or care. As long as my jeans fit, no worries. The only time I really think about it is when I’m forced to weigh in for my annual physical at the insistence of Jennifer, my cute, tiny, female-DoogieHowser-ish internist. (There is something rather unsettling about explaining hot flashes to Jennifer, obviously born in the 1980s. I feel immediately more vibrant after a visit to Dr. Walter, who was given a proper, doctorly name, when gas cost $0.15 per gallon.) 

My husband, on the other hand, weighs himself at least 2 times a day, and ALWAYS after a big dinner.  This is so baffling to me, but quite entertaining. He steps on the scale, which is not accurate compared to Dr. Jennifer’s scale, and announces the results in summary format, but never stating the actual poundage to me.  “Well, I shouldn’t have had that burger at dinner,” incredibly disappointed in himself, sounding like Eeyore. Or, with a pleasant smile in his voice, “Turkey wrap at lunch” proud that the scale delivered positive news. I do not even say it – I soooo want to say it. I am trying my dead level best to be supportive.  After all, I’m a kept woman now. 

Seriously, does he not know about water retention? That no matter what he eats, foregoes or pukes up that day, he simply will NOT weigh less at night than he did in the morning. It’s a mathematical dieting fact of life.  To see a change, he must make a major lifestyle change, like donating a leg. He’s a very smart man. He structures complicated deals I only pretend to understand. He, of all people, should understand that these small weight fluctuations from morning to night are simple rounding errors! I sweat four days a week for months, eating only gluten-free, dairy-free, taste-free food with no obvious change, yet he hopes and believes in his heart that he can step on the scale after substituting fries for cabbage at dinner one night and truly lose weight? But then again, he is a man. They do have the advantage of somehow dropping 2 pounds after a satisfying bathroom break. And it’s not water…

After only one week of retirement, everyone began to ask me incredulously, “WHAT are you doing with yourself?”, as if I had been confined to complete bed rest and chicken broth. “WHAT on Earth do you do all day?”, blah blah blah. Oh puleeze! {insert eye roll here} Like these people could not entertain themselves for even one measly week? I was already into my 4th month and had not watched a minute of daytime television (except for a couple of episodes of Andy Griffith). But then again, I can entertain myself at Target.  I will admit, now that the tables have turned, I too made those catty comments to my stay-at-home friends, pretending to be so incredibly fulfilled when really, I was totally sleep deprived, envious and bitter. It was just a coping skill. We do what we have to do to get down the road.

I can see this clearly now that I am more rested and less stressed. I no longer track the prime interest rate or worry about the median sales price for Dallas County homes compared to the prior quarter, or whether the price per square foot has fallen in Preston Hollow. I am losing no sleep over the 30 year jumbo mortgage rate products. I have allowed myself to let go of this information, opening up my brain for new creative ideas and boosting my memory. John’s brain is jammed with every number he ever knew – his old phone numbers, apartment numbers, and every golf hole stroke/score. This is why he cannot remember important particulars such as the delicate working of the body as it relates to water weight retention. 

No longer do I have recurring dreams about falling or floating off into the upper atmosphere, or forgetting to go to my college classes an entire semester, or being naked at work.  My dreams are now very different, peaceful and specific – eating a bowl of peaches, swimming in the ocean or watching it snow. I know, I know. In only 90 days, I’ve become one of those people who annoys the hell out of me.  

Twenty-five years is a big chunk of my life.  Half of my life with the same bank owners and co-workers. I was a baby when I started working there – fresh out of Baylor University. There is no way to walk away and not leave a part of myself behind. Now I’m the customer. Tomorrow I need to drop by to do some banking. I know there will be fresh, hot, complementary coffee – with those awesome french vanilla liquid coffee mate singles – and juicy gossip waiting for me. I hope they don’t notice my extra 5 pounds. But really, it’s just water weight.




talya

Musical Pairings:
Uncle Kracker, “Smile”

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Hi! I'm Talya Tate Boerner. Writer, Reader, Arkansas Master Naturalist / Master Gardener, Author of

THE ACCIDENTAL SALVATION OF GRACIE LEE (2016)

GENE, EVERYWHERE: a life-changing visit from my father-in-law (2020)

BERNICE RUNS AWAY (2022)

THE THIRD ACT OF THEO GRUENE (coming 2025)

Recent Ramblings:

  • Sunday Letter: February 22, 2026
  • Our Garden Mission Statement
  • Goodbye, 2025. Hello, 2026.
  • Sunday Letter: 11.23.25
  • Maggie and Miss Ladybug: My New Children’s Nature Book

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