Parrot Head - July 17, 2014

As published in the White River Current - Thursday July 17, 2014

It has taken me sixty columns and thirty months to figure it all out.  I am not a writer, I am a talker or maybe just a story-teller.  What I send to this newspaper every other week is simply a transcription of what I say at some particular time.  Make sense?  Does to me and I am so happy to discover that I am not a writer, much less a journalist.  I said as much in my very first column over two years ago.  What a relief!  Now I can get to the business at hand without worrying about the correct word usage, spelling, etc.  Just pick a subject and go with it.  Please remember that a good story is worth telling more than once.  I’m sure I repeat myself occasionally so bear with me and we’ll continue a while longer so off we go.  Back when Steve was a teenager, one evening I heard this beautiful harmonica music coming from the stereo in his room.  I inquired and he told me that it was the Jimmy Buffett band.  I had never heard of Jimmy Buffett but some months later this young lady was shopping in the drug store and I noticed that she was wearing a Jimmy Buffett jacket.  Steve asked her if she had purchased the jacket at one of Jimmy’s shows and she said no, she was married to one of the band members.  Later we saw her and a young man go into the business across the street so we decided to go over and introduce ourselves.  We learned the young man’s name was Greg (nickname: Fingers) Taylor, and his wife, Sarah, was the daughter of the mayor of Calico Rock.  They were very nice and appreciative that we were Jimmy Buffett fans and he invited us to his in-laws residence where Sarah’s brother, David, was meeting them for a little “picking.”  David (nicknamed D-Minor) was a semi-professional banjo player.  Anyway we went up to their house, visited for a while, learned that he was from Mississippi where his father owned a drugstore and he had met his wife, Sarah, at college (UALR).  We later learned that he was an original member of JB’s band, the Coral Reefers  After hearing Greg play a soul-searching rendition of “Amazing Grace” Steve and I said our goodbyes and left.  A year or two later Anita and I attended a JB concert in Little Rock.  Fingers was there with the band and the concert was great.  Probably the best known JB composition is “Margaritaville.”  He wrote and recorded this song several years ago and has parlayed it into an empire of casinos, restaurants and tee shirts.  The latest Margaritaville restaurant opened not long ago in Pigeon Forge, TN, a long way from the salty water of the Pacific and the Florida keys where the business headquarters is located.  One of the verses of the song, Margaritaville, goes like this:  Don’t know the reason, Stayed here all season with nothing to show but this brand new tattoo.  He goes on to say, in verse, that the tattoo is a “real beauty” of a Mexican “cutie” but that he has no clue about how he got it.  When I was growing up, you rarely saw a man and never a woman that sported a tattoo and then it was usually on their forearm or, sometimes, shoulder.  Many servicemen returning from WWII , especially the navy, had received a tattoo somewhere in their travels.  I used to wonder if maybe they hoisted a few glasses before deciding to get this permanent decoration.  Fast forward a few years.  Now there is a tattoo parlor a few miles from anywhere in the United States and it is a common sight to see young and old, male and female, with multiple artistic drawings on their bodies.  I read the other day that one of the newer female so-called entertainer/singers, known best for her antics on stage, had (at last count) 24 of these skin pictures.  Have you noticed the number of college and professional athletes who have adorned themselves with these various pigment implantations?  I wonder if this is a fad and it soon will pass.  Seems to me that they (the wearers) are trying to make some kind of statement or is it just peer pressure?  Now I am only trying to report the facts, not condemning anyone.  If you want a tattoo, it is your decision.  Just remember, it is a permanent decision or, at least, it is very expensive to reverse if you change your mind later.  Before I stop, I want to let you in on a little secret.  Promise you want tell anyone.  I have a tattoo.  I’ll tell you about it later.  Bye for now!   

Note from Steve:

Dad's memory of the story of Gregg (Fingers) Taylor that Christmas 30+ years ago is exactly as I remember it.   One additional fact about Fingers is that he gave me the harmonica after he had played "Amazing Grace" that day.  I still have it.  Here is a picture of it.