Roll Me Up and Smoke Me When I Die: Musings From the Road (13 page)

O
NE
TIME
A
GUY
COMMISSIONED
A
PAINTER
TO
PAINT
A
PICTURE
 that would show what General Custer was thinking at the Battle of Little Bighorn—that would actually
show his last thought.
When he was through, he had painted a picture of a thousand Indians lying on the ground having sex, and a cow with a halo. The financier asked, “What does this have to do with General Custer’s last thoughts at the Battle of Little Bighorn?” The artist pointed to the caption on the painting, which read: “Holy cow, look at them fucking Indians.”

I am part Cherokee, on my mother’s side. Of course when she was in Texas she claimed to be Mexican, so I’m not really sure. My mother was a singer, guitar player, dancer, and bartender, and she did them all well. The first song I remember hearing her sing to me was “Ain’t Nobody’s Business.”

Went downtown

rode on a fender

Came back home

Kicked out a window

Ain’t nobody’s business if I do

I loved my mother. She also sang:

If you wanna get drunk and blow your top

there ain’t nobody gonna make you stop

That’s your red wagon

That’s your little red wagon

That’s your red wagon so just keep rolling along

If you want to go fishing late at night

And you lose your bait and the fish don’t bite

That’s your red wagon and keep on rolling along

My mother, Myrle Greenhaw-Nelson, was a great cook. When we were in the northwest around Portland, Oregon, we would pull the bus up to the house and get the best meal we would have on the whole tour. We knew that and always looked forward to it. I was a DJ in Vancouver, Washington, and Portland, Oregon. I loved it. That’s wonderful country, and I didn’t mind the rain.

My dad, Ira Nelson, and my mother divorced when I was six months old and Sister Bobbie was three years old. I lived with my grandparents Nancy Elizabeth Nelson and William Alfred Nelson. My granddad was a blacksmith.

My dad moved to various places, following his trade as a mechanic. He made it a point to come visit every chance he could. Later on in life, we had more time to spend together. We played music all over the state together, and I was able to more than make up for the time I missed with him when I was a child. He tried to be a good father in every way.

He remarried a pretty lady called Lorraine. You may have heard stories about evil stepmothers, but Lorraine was
not
one of them. She loved me and Sister Bobbie, and coming into the family the way she did, “she had shit for a point,” because in those days divorces and stepparents were hard to accept. Through the years, as we got to know her more and more, we realized what a great lady she was.

I LET MY MIND WANDER

I let my mind wander

And what did it do?

It just kept right on goin’

Until it got back to you

I let my mind wander

Can’t trust it one minute

It’s worse than a child

Disobeys without conscience

It’s drivin’ me wild

When I let my mind wander

Try to keep my mind busy

On thoughts of today

But invariably memories

Seem to lure it away

My lonely heart wonders

If there’ll ever come a day

When I can be happy

But I can’t see no way

’Cause I let my mind wander

I try to keep my mind busy

With thoughts of today

But invariably memories

Seem to lure it away

My lonely heart wonders

If there’ll ever come a day

When I can be happy

But I can’t see no way

’Cause I let my mind wander

SUMMERTIME

Summertime, and the livin’ is easy

Oh wait, I didn’t write that! Okay. Moving on.

D
ON
N
ELSON
HAS
A
POKER
GAME
NAMED
AFTER
HIM
CALLED
D
IRTY
Nellie. It is a dirty, unforgiving game. You get three cards—one up and two down—and your bottom hold card is wild. It’s a seven-card game, so a lot can go wrong; I hate it. We play dealer’s choice, and that can be one of a hundred games, like Spreckelsville; or a game I brought from Texas called Big Mountain or Omaha, where you play two cards only out of your hand; or Baldwin Beach, named after a local beach here and similar to Low Ball; or High Ball; or Paducah, and, honestly, more games than I can remember. Oh yes, and my favorite game is called Hold ’Em and Fuck ’Em. It’s a five-card high/low game, hold card wild, buy one at the end, and throw one away. It’s a great game. We play all kinds of games, crazy shit, but fun.

My good friend and one of the founding members out the Maui Outlaws, the late and great Spider, gave me a ship bell. We ring it for him every night at Django’s Orchid Lounge.
LIQUOR
UP
FRONT
—
POKER
IN
THE
REAR
.

Mudslide is a good friend who helps me keep Django’s running. He sets up the poker table and brings coffee, beer, or whatever, to whomever. He plays and sings for us sometimes. He is a great entertainer and hard worker. He has worked every Farm Aid, helped park cars, buses, trucks, and whatever needs to be done. Slide can and will do it. Thank you, Slide.

Bill Mack and I have been great friends for fifty years at least. He was on the radio when I was just getting started, and he played all my records, from the first ones, like “Mr. Record Man,” “Half a Man,” and “Turn Out the Lights.” He helped keep my name and music out there when I really needed it. He was the Midnight Cowboy at WBAP’s Fort Worth, Texas, late-night show that everybody listened to.

In those days a radio station could make you or break you; I guess it still can. He was on SiriusXM Radio for years, and I believe he is coming back again. I sure hope so, anyway. We had a show on Wednesday together, called
Willie Wednesdays.
I hope we can do that again soon.

I
JUST
READ
WHAT
M
ELONIE
C
ANNON
WAS
SAYING
ABOUT
THE
2012 CMA award show. It wasn’t a good review, but it was a funny one! I didn’t watch it, so I don’t know for sure what went on, but it wasn’t great according to Melonie. I think she was frustrated because she was raised on classic country music. I love Melonie and respect her opinion. She is a great singer and the daughter of one of the best writers, musicians, and producers in music, Buddy Cannon, so call ’em like you see ’em, Melonie.

PICKERS

I
will not say anything bad about another picker, but we do know who the good ones are, and they were/are:

Django Reinhardt

Bob Wills

Ray Price

George Jones

Vern Gosdin

Kitty Wells

Loretta Lynn

Connie Smith

Little Jimmy Dickens

Floyd Tillman

Leon Payne

Ted Daffan

Spade Cooley

Tex Williams

Tennessee Ernie Ford

Chet Atkins

Grady Martin

Hank Garland

Tommy Jackson

Jerry Reed

Ernest Tubb

Red Foley

The Louvin Brothers

The Wilburn Brothers

Roy Acuff

Pee Wee King

Lulu Belle and Scotty

Marty Robbins

Waylon Jennings

Kris Kristofferson

Johnny Cash

Billy Joe Shaver

Merle Haggard

Hank Locklin

Carl Smith

Roger Miller

Carl and Pearl Butler

Jimmie Rodgers

Lefty Frizzell

These are some of the pickers who influenced me along the way, and I’m sure I am leaving somebody out, but these are the people I learned from, and whatever I am, I owe a lot to my teachers. Thank you for showing me the way.

I
F
YOU
WANT
TO
BE
A
STAR
,
YOU
SHOULD
START
ACTING
LIKE
ONE
now, so that when you become one, you will already know how to behave, and maybe you won’t blow it. For instance, I don’t know anybody who is better drunk than sober. You might get by a while, but sooner than later it will take you down. I know. I tried it.

Nobody can stay drunk and make it for long. Alcohol and drugs will win. I have a high tolerance for pot, but I still forget “Whiskey River” if I smoke too much before a show. I don’t drink anymore, so that’s a plus, but I still have to watch it.

P
OT
IS
LEGAL
IN
A
LOT
OF
PLACES
AND
ONE
DAY
WILL
BE
LEGAL
EVERYWHERE
. If you make pot legal, and tax it and regulate it like alcohol and tobacco, you will stop the dealing on the borders and save thousands of lives!

T
HE
NEXT
SONG
IS
ON
MY
NEW
RECORD
. I
PLUG
MY
MUSIC
ANY
TIME
I can. I know it’s commercialism at its lowest form . . . Bite me, again. It’s beginning to feel good.

ROLL ME UP AND SMOKE
ME WHEN I DIE

Roll me up and smoke me when I die

And if anyone don’t like it, just look ’em in the eye

I didn’t come here, and I ain’t leavin’

So don’t sit around and cry

Just roll me up and smoke me when I die.

You won’t see no sad and teary eyes

When I get my wings, and it’s my time to fly

Just call my friends and tell them

There’s a party, come on by

So just roll me up and smoke me when I die.

Roll me up and smoke me when I die

And if anyone don’t like it, just look ’em in the eye

I didn’t come here, and I ain’t leavin’

So don’t sit around and cry

Just roll me up and smoke me when I die.

Well take me out and build a roaring fire

And roll me in the flames for ’bout an hour

And then pull me out and twist me up

And point me towards the sky

And roll me up and smoke me when I die.

Roll me up and smoke me when I die

And if anyone don’t like it, just look ’em in the eye

I didn’t come here, and I ain’t leavin’

So don’t sit around and cry

Just roll me up and smoke me when I die.

I didn’t come here, and I ain’t leavin’

So don’t sit around and cry

Just roll me up and smoke me when I die.

And I say unto any man or woman, let your soul stand cool and collected before a million universes.

—W
ALT
W
HITMAN

LITTLE OLD FASHIONED KARMA

Just a little old fashioned karma coming down

A little old fashioned justice going round

It really ain’t hard to understand

If you wanna dance you gotta pay the band

Just a little old fashioned karma coming down

Coming down

Coming down

Just a little old fashioned karma coming down

It really ain’t hard to understand

If you wanna dance you gotta pay the band

Just a little old fashioned karma coming down

GOD

I
f we are children of God, then we must be gods too. Very small children must be God also. We were made in His image, duh. Why don’t we know it and act like it? I don’t know, maybe we do know and are afraid to accept the responsibility. If we admit that we are children of God, we can go a long way toward fixing what’s wrong. Maybe that is our reason to be here, end of story.

TURN OUT THE LIGHTS

Turn out the lights the party’s over

They say that all good things must end

Call it a night

The party’s over

And tomorrow starts the whole damn thing again

Once I had a love undying

Didn’t keep it wasn’t trying

Life for me was just one party then another

Broke her heart so many times had to have my party wine

Then one night she said sweetheart

The party’s over

Turn out the lights the party’s over

They say that all good things must end

Call it a night the party’s over

And tomorrow starts the whole damn thing

Again

J
AMEY
J
OHNSON
CAME
BY
TODAY
. H
E
SAID
HE
WAS
CAMPING
OUT
now, way out in the woods where he could be alone. You get that way sometimes. He is trying to write songs, so I told him what Roger Miller said: “Sometimes the well goes dry, and you need to stop and let it fill up again.” With me, writing songs is not a choice. It’s like labor pains, and they have to get out. It doesn’t matter whether they are great ideas or just mind-farts, they just have to get out.