c. 2026 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(7-26)
Almost as an afterthought, I wrote one last tuneful composition flavored with the blue-collar ethos of Country & Western music. A classic statement of betrayal and endurance, that seemed to fit the earthy template of that genre. I braced myself for a visceral reaction from T. Randall Squire, after posting it at my newspaper site. Yet this time, there was no chirp for attention from my cellular device.
I guessed that he had finally lost the desire to debate with me over a business arrangement that would enrich both of us, financially.
Goodbye, Loneliness
“Now I’ve heard that a happy home
Is ruled by love from the heart
But somehow when I tried that plan
It got off to a rocky start
I worked all week and paid the bills
An investment for future days
But when I saw what was going on
My wife wasn’t being straight
She ran around with men, galore
And I was covering the costs
Thought I was head of our household
But some other guy was playing boss
I couldn’t quite get that notion
At first, an ache in the head
But finally, I packed my rags and left
There was nothing more to be said
Goodbye, to the loneliness
If this is what must be
I’m counting on myself this time
‘Cause my woman set me free
Goodbye to the loneliness
I’ll be sleeping in my truck
This ol’ boy’s getting a second chance
Another kiss for Lady Luck
Now I’ve heard it said that living right
Is the best way to proceed
Read your good book, go to church
Pray on bended knee
But I spent my time in a factory
Working hard and punching the clock
And all that got me was a prize
For a fool, learning from hard knocks
She made our bed a landing pad
For neighbors, friends, and such
And when I arrived home at night
Her skin felt cold to touch
But in the end, I know the game
Because, I have been played
So here’s a toast to all we had
It’ll be a sweet yesterday
Goodbye, to the loneliness
If this is what must be
I’m counting on myself this time
‘Cause my woman set me free
Goodbye to the loneliness
I’ll be sleeping in my truck
This ol’ boy’s getting a second chance
Another kiss for Lady Luck
Horseshoes are full of magic dust
And a pot of gold is near
Those are the tales I that was told
While earning my bread and beer
I never took much from the till
It was all about family
But when I pulled in the driveway
There was a sight to see
A letter on the garage door
Said, “Don’t bother coming in!”
All my clothes were bagged up
Intended for the trash bin
I knew that the judgment day
Had finally come to pass
So, I hung my head in silence
And went back to my drinking glass
Goodbye, to the loneliness
If this is what must be
I’m counting on myself this time
‘Cause my woman set me free
Goodbye to the loneliness
I’ll be sleeping in my truck
This ol’ boy’s getting a second chance
Another kiss for Lady Luck
Somewhere in this universe
There’s a scroll of right and wrong
A string of verses, well-composed
To the tune of a Country song
And I am that cowboy cuss
The rube that got denied
A loser on the streets of home
But settled, on the inside
My heart will hope, they tell me
In the fullness things will heal
All I need is a place to work
And another to hang my steel
So, I won’t feel the pain for long
It’ll go numb over time
Tall on the saddle, I will sit
In a better state of mind
Goodbye, to the loneliness
If this is what must be
I’m counting on myself this time
‘Cause my woman set me free
Goodbye to the loneliness
I’ll be sleeping in my truck
This ol’ boy’s getting a second chance
Another kiss for Lady Luck...”
With my fingers stiffened by arthritis, I took out an acoustic guitar from the back closet, and tuned it up, carefully. I had not played in months, due to my disability. But the muse moved me to attempt recording a demo version of the track I had penned. So, with a hoarse vocalization, and stumbling strums, I sang the words aloud.
An accent of Appalachian, hillbilly inflections came naturally as I worked at the desk. I managed to achieve a sound that was authentic, if far from professional. Once that audio document had been captured, I posted the result on YouTube. If nothing else, I reckoned that the clip might entertain those who were still interested in such humble forms of art.
I did not linger long on thoughts of what had been accomplished. But a week or two later, while sitting on my porch with a cold brew, a notification popped up via the Radio.net app saved on my phone. It teased a breaking news report, about a new performer on the horizon.
“Listen now for a rising star from Cleveland! Hear Rodney Dean on WKKY from Geneva! Y’all are gonna be thrilled with some new talent born on the northcoast!”
I felt my gut tighten, and had to lean forward in the seat as it began to ache.
“DAMMIT COUNTRY SQUIRE! YOU HAD THE LAST LAUGH, AFTER ALL!”
By the weekend, a residual check for royalties appeared in my postal slot, at our mail barn. It was for a generous amount of money, more than my disability award for an entire month. I sat staring at the paper certificate for a long time. The yield seemed impossible to imagine. I guessed that a bit of studio trickery had been employed to convert my one-off performance into a useful document that could be vended to listeners. A worthy effort for the record company, and something of a miracle considering that I was still a reclusive, anonymous wordsmith in a rural, Ohio township.
I did not bother to reach out for comment, regarding this unscheduled release. Because I knew what the reaction of my entertainment contact would be, if given a chance to make his sales pitch.
“GIVE ME MORE OF THAT DOWN HOME STUFF, RODNEY! MORE! MORE! MORE!”
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