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Let’s get some candles burnin’ and some records turnin’…

January 10, 2026 by admin

https://youtube.com/watch?v=TSOj3WMgld4

English content pending…

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Let her weep and lift a glass of bitter-sweet sour mash…

My angels and demons at war with myself…

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HE WAS STILL TALKING ABOUT TOMORROW—THEN TOMORROW NEVER CAME.
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MARTY TURNED INTO THE WALL. HE TOOK 37 STITCHES ACROSS HIS FACE, A BROKEN TAILBONE, BROKEN RIBS, AND TWO BLACK EYES. “If Marty hadn’t turned into the wall, it’s highly likely I might not be here today.” — Richard Childress Marty Robbins had two seconds to decide. Five years earlier, in 1969, he’d had his first heart attack. Doctors told him three major arteries were blocked and gave him a year to live without an experimental new procedure. He became one of the first men in history to undergo a triple bypass — and three months after surgery, he was back behind the wheel of a NASCAR stock car. He sang at the Grand Ole Opry from 11:30 to midnight. He raced at 145 mph on weekends. He had sixteen #1 country hits. He wrote “El Paso.” His doctors begged him to stop racing. He didn’t. At the Charlotte 500 on October 6, 1974, a young driver named Richard Childress — the man who would later own Dale Earnhardt’s #3 car — sat dead in his stalled vehicle, broadside across the track. Marty was coming up behind at 160 mph. He could T-bone Childress and probably kill him. Or he could turn into the concrete wall. The scar between his eyes never faded — he carried it for the rest of his life. Richard Childress went on to build one of the most legendary teams in NASCAR history. What does a man owe a stranger — when he has two seconds, a wall on his right, and his own life already running on borrowed time? – Country Music
A SIXTEEN-YEAR-OLD GIRL TOOK A BUS TO NASHVILLE WITH NO MONEY TO STAY — 1948. Her name wasn’t Patsy yet. She was Virginia Hensley, a drugstore counter girl from Winchester, Virginia. Her father had walked out the year before. Her mother sewed dresses by hand to feed three kids. A man named Wally Fowler heard her sing one night and told her she belonged on the Grand Ole Opry stage. So Ginny got on a bus. She sang on Roy Acuff’s WSM Dinner Bell program. The Opry executives listened. Then they told her she wasn’t ready for big-time country radio. No contract. No offer. No money to stay another night. She rode the bus home and went back to the drugstore counter. Back to the poultry plant. Back to the bus terminal. Back to singing in Moose Lodges in Brunswick, Maryland, for tip jars. It would take nine more years and a stage name — Patsy — before America heard her again on Arthur Godfrey’s Talent Scouts. There is one thing she said to her mother the night she came home from Nashville with empty pockets — and her mother never repeated it to anyone until 1985. – Country Music
THE SONG HE WROTE FOR THE WOMAN WHO MARRIED HIM WHEN HE HAD NOTHING — AND WAS STILL WAITING AT HOME 22 YEARS LATER WHILE HE COLLECTED THE GRAMMY THAT BORE HER NAME In 1948, this artist was a skinny ex-Navy kid in Glendale, Arizona, with no record deal and nothing to offer. Marizona Baldwin was a young woman who had told friends she wanted to marry a singing cowboy — half-joking, half-hoping. He walked into her life, and before that year ended, they were married. No fame, no money. Just a guitar and a promise. She raised their two children through the lean years. She moved with him to Nashville in 1953 when he chased the Grand Ole Opry. She held the house together through the rise, the road, the heart attack in 1969 — and somewhere in the middle of all that, he sat down and wrote her a song. It was not clever. It was not dressed up. It was a plain man saying everything a husband would want to say to a wife — including a verse asking God to give her his share of heaven, because he believed she had earned it more than he ever could. In a 1978 interview, he said simply: “I wrote it for my wife, Marizona. My wife is everything I said in that song. It’s a true song.” The track hit number one on the Billboard country chart, crossed into the pop top 50, and won him the 1970 Grammy for Best Country Song. Just four days after its release, he became one of the first patients in America to undergo open-heart surgery. Every time he sang it on stage, he wasn’t reaching for a character. He was singing the only true love letter he ever wrote, to the woman who had bet on him before anyone else did. – Country Music

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