Monday has arrived again. I will refrain from my tired old quotes on the speed of time. A new week and a new list of promises I have made of work I will get done. As I always say, we'll see if I get to it. So far I am not seeing much accomplished. Spring cleaning better get done quick or I will have to put it off until fall.
I don't think I ever told you that once I was in love with "Gene Autry," I was young but oh the love ran deep. In case you are reading this and don't know who Gene Autry was. He was a singing cowboy in the movies. In the forties and fifties, maybe even longer he ruled the silver screen. He shot the bad guy, got the girl and sang to her, all during the movie. he also had a television show in the fifties called. :Melody Ranch." He was handsome, polite, and he rode a horse. To a six year old he was the perfect man. I fully intended to marry him one day.
I truly believed he would ride up one day, lift me upon his horse and we would ride away. It didn't work out the way I dreamed. But it took me years to finally accept he wasn't going to come. He died October the 2nd, 1998. at the age of ninety-one. In later years he owned the baseball team, "The Los Angles Angels." The last time I saw him in a television interview, he was probably in his "80's" and had Parkinson disease. They asked him to sing a chorus of something and he declined. The interviewer tried to push him into it, saying he was known as known as the, "Singing Cowboy." I wanted to jump up and slap the man on the screen a good one. "Leave Gene alone," I wanted to scream. Old cowboys need respect. You could hear the tremble that had come into his voice from age and Parkinson's.
I have perfect memories of Saturday afternoon and three cowboy movies for a dime. "Roy Rogers," was a star bach then too. With his gal, "Dale Evans." But he couldn't touch Gene. He was my hero. And every Saturday I watched wide eyed as he rode his horse champion onto the screen. Two six guns at his sides. Blazing fire at the ones who trampled on Justice, law and order. Oh yes, he always said Mam. As he flashed his smile and stole your heart. They just don't make hero's like that anymore.
If I ever get to heaven. There is much talk among people that I might not.. But if I do, I'm marching down those golden streets. Of course after I see my Mom, Dad, sister, Dix and Bobby. I'll call out Gene, Gene Autry. And then at the end of the golden street, probably in the shade of a tree. He will be perched on his horse. His guitar in hand, strumming softly as he watches me approcach. Then I am postive he'll start singing a song. Then I will say, "Thanks Mr. Autry," I'll be too nervous to call him Gene. "Thanks for the memories, all the Saturday afternoons of whisking me off to a magical place. Where the good guys always won." Did I ever tell you I loved Gene Autry?
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