It's raining and cold in the old graveyard where the Theater owners decided to put up the money for the simple burial of the old man who worked for them. There was no service, in fact no one came for the final rites except the Theater manager, who had given the old man the janitorial job. He stood there, rain dripping from the brim of his hat, as the gravediggers did the final pat down on the fresh mound, gathered up their tools and walked away. He was gonna miss the old man who told him those wild stories of being a country music star, not that the man believed him, but they were entertaining to listen to. He had been the one to find the old man, lying in a heap in the center of the stage of the theater, early the next morning when he came in to check on things. Finally, feeling kinda depressed, and for sure cold and wet, he walked to his car and left.
Later that week, the theater manager had found some addresses in the old mans personal items in the locker backstage in the theater. He notified the person who's name was on the paper, and thought little more about it.
In Nashville, the news of the old man's death had started to circulate and the newspapers and trade press had got hold of it. This started a very public cat fight between his two ex-wives and assorted kids over who had a right to his old record royalties and songwriter rights. It had been years since the old man had even checked the status of a career that used to be, but, a record company in Germany had bought the rights to many of the old mans records, put a boxed set of cd's out and people, who had always loved his work, had bought them worldwide. The record company, unable to find a mailing address for him, had accrued the royalties and they were holding them for him. Some hot, new artists had re-cut some of his old songs and there was a pile big enough to get the cat fight going pretty good. The old man would have been laughing his head off at the two ex'es and ex'es assorted kids as they feverishly sought the money from the old mans creative works.
Meanwhile, the old man, who had felt such pain in his final moments, came to himself in the midst of a light that was even brighter than the spotlights that he remembered from the old pickin' days. There was music all around him...why, that sounded just like Red Foley....is that Patsy?....Ernest...Mr. Acuff....Chet....Oh My God!...and a deep voice answered, "Yes,I'm right here, my son....we have been waiting for you...the band knows all your songs...and Ira Louvin wants to sing harmony with you"........Stan
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In the Heavenly Band, there are no age limits, no Union dues, no promoters sneaking out the back door with the ticket proceeds, no hard back seats to have to try to sleep, sitting up for hundreds of miles of Road Touring, no club owners who try to beat the traveling musicians out of every dime they can, no crooked managers to run off with the secretary and take all the artists money with them, No IRS agents that hold up your precious guitar, that you have carried since you started in the business, and told the auctioneer to see what these folks would give for it,,,no, it is the Band That Knows All Your Songs, Background Vocals that sound just like Angels, guitar players that don't even have to use a capo to play all your chords, all your family and friends around that have gone on before you to prepare the way...You talk about singing to the choir....every face around you is lit by a light of happiness and joy....you're singing with the finest harmony singer that has ever been....God is patting His foot to the beat, and King David is saying, "See, Heavenly Father, this is the music I been telling you about". Stan
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