***The Roots Is The Toots- The Texas Sheiks- Cairo  

 

… drunk, drunk as a skunk as he headed home, no, not his Division Street Chicago living home, living to make the rent, living to make some kale to send back home, making money at Mister’s big ass old steel plant where the sweat and noise would kill you, but to his real home down river. And he had reason for both, both to be drunk and to be heading home. See his Sally (Sally Anne but he called her Sally, just his sweet Sally), was rumored, no, more than rumored, fact, to be stepping out with another man. So yes, drunk, drunk to get up the courage to use the razor and gun in his pocket, and heading home to cut somebody up, cut ‘em up bad. He took another drink as the Greyhound bus made that last push to his home, his real home …   

…he had known her since he had known the hills, known the hills and hollows around Scratch Town (the name, made up, served just as well as the real name and could have fit any of several towns along that low- lying mountain range), known the exquisite difference (although he, poor ignorant he, would not have used that word, had he she might have stayed) between boys and girls the first time he danced with her down at Red Baily’s Saturday night dance, lights aglow, corn liquor aplenty (for the adults), the boys in fine fiddle. And so from that night they spend their time together, spent it growing to adulthood (and he, not she, to adult corn liquor) and made plans. Were to marry, have kids, and grow old together. But there was a wind blowing through the hills and hollows just then, blowing through the whole land, and she got caught up in it, became discontented, had wanted more. He, well, he was just a hills and hollows boy, not a good old boy exactly but he probably would grow into that status as he aged. He just did not understand, not at all.  Did not understand why she needed a jumping man.  

She had to move on, move on with her life she said. Said their, quote, “flirtation” was not built to last, not made of the stuff of dreams (sweet dreams, he said, quote). Said too that that fact of another man was not true, was just a malicious rumor started by the town wags because she had been seen walking with a stranger, a city fellow, just talking, talking about her wanderlust.

And of course she was right, she was right for her, right to want to move on. To leave the country life behind, to leave the dull behind and shake up the world a little, shake up the world a little with her love too. He, well, he was a tattered and torn guy, a guy who would be swallowed up in cities, had almost turned back the first day on Division Street, could find no air to breathe. Still it hurt, hurt like hell that she wanted to leave, wanted to leave her tattered and torn behind like a dust rag. Still it hurt that she never looked back when she walked up the road to take that Greyhound bus to who knows where. Still, well, still he loved her, a small love in a big world but love…