A light went out this week when Merle Haggard passed away on his 79th birthday.
I have loved Merle Haggard’s music since I was a child. And the song I’ve loved most wasn’t written by him – “I’m a Lonesome Fugitive” – but could have been. I don’t know why, as a kid, this song appealed to me. Maybe it was the way the chorus started on a high note and ended low. Maybe it was the line: Down every road there’s always one more city. As a struggling child, that sentence offered hope (even though the rest of the song is so sad). I don’t have an answer as to why I loved it. I just did. Still do.
The photo above is of a page in my personal scrapbook, which holds ideas, wishes, longings and things I want or have wanted for myself. I pasted in the Merle Haggard photo (from Rolling Stone) some time in the 1990s. I was beginning to write songs and desperately wanted to find truth in the process. I suppose I could have chosen any of a number of idols to emulate on that front, but for me there was only one: The Hag. I believed him when he sang. His truth seemed to come through in his songs. Even now, when I tackle an artistic endeavor – be it a painting or a blog post – I aim for a level of truth. And I still hold up Merle Haggard as a guide.
Several years ago, Mister surprised me with tickets to see The Hag. I don’t remember if I cried or not that night, but I didn’t just meet me, so I probably did. And that’s okay. Because sometimes you get to live out a dream, which is a big deal and worth tears. Seeing Merle Haggard perform live was definitely a dream come true for me. And I loved it.
Based on what I’ve read, Mr. Haggard told his family he was going to die on his birthday. Maybe that was a rambling from an ill man. Maybe it was fear. Or maybe it was knowledge gleaned from living his own truth, his way. I don’t have any answers on that front, either. And it wouldn’t matter if I did.