Band of Gold - August 18, 1971

It was 1971, I was 11. If memory serves correctly it was August. The 18th for some reason sticks in my mind. Band of Gold by Freda Payne played on the radio at that time. Today it plays on XM – Sunny 24… stirring memories of 36 years ago.

I don’t remember that much about being 11. I do remember my Grandpa Cole’s sawdust flooring at the West Anniston grocery store named McCord’s. He drove a green ’55 Chevrolet station wagon. It was faded, dulled by too much Alabama sunshine. I remember him sitting in the living room prior to going to Birmingham to have open heart surgery. He smoked, and coughed, he was only 58 or so but by today’s standards he looked 80+ and not in the best of health. He was a deer hunter. I recall the pine gun cabinet at his house, some deer antlers with red velvet covering at the base, and some random, colored plastic spent shotgun shells.

He would leave the next day for UAB Hospital and be back within a week or so. We would stay in Oxford and wait.

Hoping soon that you’ll walk right thru that door.

Like an episode of Wonder Years the funeral and days leading up to it play over in my mind. The shock. The fear. The loss. He’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone.

Now that you're gone all that’s left is a bond of gold.
And the memory of what love could be,
If you were still here with me.

I went with my parents to select the casket. Grandma and Grandpa had “burial policies”. I think it paid $300 toward the cost. Not nearly enough and it might have been less. My numbers could be wrong but I’m relaying thoughts that are 36 years deep.

Filled with sadness, filled with gloom

There was a blue casket that cost more than a gray one. No other noticeable difference other than the cost. I wanted us to pick the blue one. My mom took me aside and said “I think Grandpa would much rather Grandma have that money for things she’s going to need.” They found two $100 bills folded in quarters in his wallet.

Don't you know that I wait
In the darkness of my lonely room


I remember going to the funeral home. Miller’s. I was scared and having to be pryed from my hold on the door facing heading from the hall to the parlor where the gray casket now lay.

All that's left of the dreams I hold
Is a band of gold


The funeral procession. White hearse. Edgemont Cemetary. A blur of relatives and friends.

And the dream of what love could be
If you were still here with me

To this day… I really do think Freda Payne’s Band of Gold played on the radio in the car as we drove behind the gray casket carrying hearse.

Letting it all hang out...

I didn't grow up passionate about Alabama football. I was "raised" an Auburn fan.

I went to my first Alabama game in 1979 when I transferred to UA from UAB. I arrived at the game hoping Alabama would lose (to Baylor). But by halftime, I was an Alabama fan and I can never see myself as an Auburn fan now. It took me over.

It was the best of times... Bear Bryant was there, Bama was ranked and won the national championship that year and I was a student. What more could you ask!!?!

Over the years, Alabama footaball has been where I let it all hang out. On Saturday, Alabama played LSU to the best of it's abilty and almost won. It was about as exciting as any game I've ever been to. It might even rank up there with that 1979 loss to Notre Dame 7-0. We had so many chances to win, to score, yet me never did. The students stood and screamed for almost 3 1/2 hours.

Over the years, Alabama football is where I let it all hang out. I yell, I scream, I dance in my seat, I jump and celebrate with my seat mates who some I only see in
Sec N, Row 49 on any given fall Saturday.

It's my outlet, my let it all hang out. One of my purposes in life for sure. There's nothing like it. For 3 1/2 hours, nothing else on earth matters and from Sweet Home Alabama to Basketcase to Rammer Jammer... we are the Crimson Tide!

Yeah Alabama, Crimson Tide!... Rammer Jammer Yellow Hammer, Giv'em Hell Alabama!!!!

... how do you let it all hang out?