This may shock some of our loyal readers but it’s true: we look at our site stats. WordPress keeps track of our visitors, of where they come from, and of the posts that interest them. I write and Kat works a camera because we need a better record of where we went and what we did rather than to simply trust our poor old filled-up brains. Humans like to create, and it seems the written word is my only art-form. The third reason is equally true: I crave your validation.
There is a difference between approval and validation. The first one means I’m saying what you want to hear. The latter means, one way or another, I have stirred you up, struck a nerve, or found a chord in your Key of Life*, giving me another reason to keep writing. That, along with our personal histories, well-crafted sentences, and cohesive essays, are my goals in writing.
140 of our followers do so on Facebook yet it’s impossible to tell who you are. “Follower” somehow feels demeaning to the reader and to us. Kat and I are humble people who run the road and happen to create this blog. We tell stories of the things we see and experience on that road. We like the term “reader”. But Facebook is a demanding universe. I may be wrong about that, for I don’t really do Facebook. Our Webmaster built a link to it using an account I set up a decade ago, before I realized they wanted my picture. People post Likes and whatnot that go to that account. I checked my Facebook page a few days ago and found more entries than I could reply to in a week. 140 “followers”, wow!
My old band buddy Jimmy Hall is in there, and again, I don’t know who follows or doesn’t. Billy “Commode” Malone is there too, and Bill was a much better trumpeter than I or James. Mary Ann Childress is there too. She has always been a looker, but I remember her most for being called on stage at a name band concert at Louisiana Tech around 1968 – was it Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels? – where she belted out a solid, heartfelt, absolutely on-pitch stanza of Wilbert Harrison’s Kansas City. I guess you never forget the lessons learned from Bob Ferrington in The Rebel Choir. And yo, I still love all of you, but there’s so much catching up to do, I don’t really know you anymore, if ever I did. High school is a crucible that squeezes out the worst in everyone. Maybe we were actors on a big stage trying to get by on improv. But it just didn’t feel like acting, did it?
Here’s the original version of Kansas City. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9mi9a0BholM
Kat says, “Oh, it’s only Facebook. Ignore the negative and trivial, hit Like only if you really like it, and if it’s way beyond Like, then maybe say something.”
My days are full. There’s more on Facebook than I can read, let alone reply to thoughtfully. Nonetheless, I am thrilled that now and then you read our little blog and hope you will continue to do so. My point is, I’m just not a Facebook guy. If you want to hit me with a comment – positive or painful – please post it on the blog site. Here’s the link:
And as always, thank you for reading.
*Apologies and thanks to Stevie Wonder for his Wonderful album with that title.
Life on the Blue Highways 
I hear you about Facebook.
While I dabble there for some specific groups, I so far do not post on my account, other than the two photos at the top, so it looks somewhat alive.
This may change at some point, but for now, that’s how I’m using it.
It takes up a lot of time, as you say, and like many things, has its pros and cons.
By the way, all of the posts and photos on here interest me. 🙂
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God bless you. You are as loyal as my mother, Kahuna. As for the picture, #46 is Henry Groll, like me from Mooringsport, LA. If he’s still above ground, he’d be 79 or so. Henry left town when I was 8 or 9. Nobody stays in Mooringsport anymore. There are no jobs, no business opportunities, and there is no future. And so it goes all over America: the small towns that can’t become suburbs wither and die. Those that survive lose their character.
It was a fine picture of Henry. It captured his Teutonic seriousness and stoicism. Germans aren’t as good at suffering as Russians, but they come close. His football team didn’t suffer more than average: they finished 6-4 and barely missed out on the playoffs. For many years that season was one that North Caddo fans all aspired to.
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Thanks, Jackson.
You and Kat have a way here of making things compelling, and so we readers come back often to see what is going on. 🙂
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Young Henry looks the picture of athletic vitality in his photo here.
Thanks for the details.
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Small towns do have it rough.
I was born in a fairly large city, but didn’t live there.
Many of my formative years were spent in suburbs of New Orleans, and then in some other places.
Save for a few, most were not quite as small as Mooringsport.
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After decades in NYC, I now live in a place where the population is smaller than Mooringsport. (I looked it up, and as of the 2010 census it 793.)
This area gets some summer tourist traffic from NYC, but it is still rather economically depressed.
It is sad to see these small towns fall by the wayside, as they have so much to offer.
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I have heard two great quotes about being from a little village. The first came from my middle school’s math & science teacher, who also coached baseball and basketball. On our last day of school before going off the high school, he told us all “Just remember: you’re from Mooringsport.”
My high school physics teacher, who also taught four or five shop classes, gave us this benediction on our last day in class before graduation. “Boys and Diane, don’t ever feel ashamed about being from the country. (Long pause.) But then again, I wouldn’t advertise it.”
Jackson
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I had a beautifully composed note about how I am so intimidated about your beautiful proise, your impeccable grammar, your insightfulness, you’re Exquisite way of educating us on so many levels. And it is hard for me to reply other than I love it , and as I was putting all this together what I thought was beautiful, my battery ran out and now I have to put it all together again. and it’s not quite so sweet as it originally was so.,.,., plead guilty, I read it enjoy it, and don’t have the wherewithal to reply in such a weak way as that it was wonderful, that it was touching, that was awesome. God forbid I say, “wow.”.. Kahuna is so articulate and thoughtful and clear , wish I could be as expressive .I will work on that! Please don’t stop, I live vicariously through both your incredible Adventures.
On Aug 28, 2016 5:42 PM, “Life on the Blue Highways” wrote:
> Jackson posted: ” This may shock some of our loyal readers but it’s > true: we look at our site stats. WordPress keeps track of our visitors, > of where they come from, and of the posts that interest them. I write and > Kat works a camera because we need a better r” >
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Well, thanks, Jool. I fear you misunderestimate your own writing, but then again, I never know what people are going to think about any given blog. I wasn’t sure this one deserved posting, but my editor liked it.
Keep reading us; now and then something good happens. And thank you for the fine review.
Jackson
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I enjoy Facebook. It enables me to stay in touch and share photos and stories with friends and family members I would rarely if ever interact with otherwise. I have reconnected with some excellent friends from high school (and before) through Facebook, because in my day, it was much harder to stay in touch. I loved writing and receiving letters, but most friends didn’t, and back then, most phone calls were “long distance” and too pricey for students and even young adults just starting out. So, Facebook fills the bill. My blog I write for myself, to remember things we’ve done and sights we’ve seen. And to share with my parents and a few other souls who don’t do Facebook. And to go more in depth than I would ever go on Facebook, share more photos and stories, etc. They both serve a purpose in my life!
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But you have no idea of how time consuming fantasy baseball is! And I readily admit to being a curmudgeon. Even worse, I have long suspected there may be a few misanthropic bones in my body.
Pass through Campbellsville, KY before Christmas, Em. I happen to know the whereabouts of the town’s one good restaurant.
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