The Bakersfield Sound

As most of you know, Buck Owens passed away this weekend. I heard the news early Saturday morning (thru the grapevine, as it were.) I chose not to respond immediately for several reasons. Firstly, because I wanted to see how the rest of the community, at large, and the media, in general, would respond. To be honest, I wanted to view the impact – if only, from a short distance. And secondly, to see if I might have something else to offer.

The local media, for their part, has paid homage to Buck by plastering his image everywhere (the entire front half of the paper is one giant picture of Buck), recounting the details of his life, and explaining, for those of us who didn’t already know why Buck’s legacy is so important. And of course, nearly every blogger in town has shared their personal experiences with Buck and his music. So, I guess I’ll jump on the band wagon and do the same.

I grew up watching Hee Haw. Not because I wanted to. Not even because me, or my family liked the country music. I think it was because my father was worried about our minds being poisoned by watching the other popular programs at the time. I never got to watch Bewitched, or Gilligan’s Island. We watched the Lawrence Welk show (Adios, au revior, auf weidersehen.....Good Night!), and National Geographic. (Is it any wonder I’m so strange?)

I think we watched Hee Haw because we were the kind of small town, close knit, played in the dirt fields, struggled to do better family that many families were in Bakersfield. The kind where dad worked as a ruff neck to get through high school, and mom worked as a telephone operator. The kind of town where tumble weeds were viewed as tools to make forts, and the pavement was only as hot as your one bare foot could stand.

I think it's the same kind of atmosphere that keeps Amy in NY referencing her home town, and Waist High obsessing about her time in high school. It has to do with the reason that this blog has had moderate success with the people who have moved away, yet still check back to see what's going on.

There is something about Bakersfield. Those of us from here have likened it to a “Black Hole.” Some may escape, for a while, but great many are sucked back. And then, there are the rest of us. Those who grew up here and never left. We just sit back and take the heat. The heat for never leaving, the taunts about Backwardsfield, and, of course, the actual heat. And then we wait for ‘the others’ to return. Because they always do. If not to live, then at least to visit. And to connect - to re-connect. To tap into that strange, oddly familiar, and comforting feeling of friendship and family that comes from growing up Bakersfield style. Good, lasting, honest, Friendships. As far as I’m concerned, "The Bakersfield Sound" is all about home.

Rest in Peace Buck.