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I can still hear the lonesome wails of the apparition that is Hank Williams, winding down those country roads, screaming for mercy. A broken man, back and soul. He climbed to the heavens to realize they were empty. The no show ghost is all that remains. But, who can deny the truth of those songs of heartache in the dirty dimmed blazing hot south, where the gravel meets the holy shoes and rips them to pieces. Drunkenness was the escape route to oblivion from the pain in the soul. What a fine singer, soul singer, redeemer and bonder of man and woman, the ones that feel always alone. He gave them comfort. To know there was someone like them. Someone not so shallow. Someone who feared not to trudge the depths of the murky oceans of grief, loss, pain, and even joy. I exemplify this man of mysterious yodels, whose sound echoes and shakes to the core of my being with every play. He still makes you feel. He is alive. Hank the drifter, drunk, musician, wizard, conjurer of human emotion and tears. Country music should feel these things again. They should dig for the roots, and discover the true meaning behind the steeped spiritual form of old time music. Remember not the man, but how he lived and how he sang. You will find yourself in every song and you will know you are apart of something great. Life.

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