It's the crack of dawn in thick Smokey Mountain fog as the big white Ford Econoline van packed to the point of bursting with band gear and four smelly guys pulls down Pond Branch road heading into Do-Da hollow. The band was between gigs and we had about a week to kill in between.
We were in Jackson, MS and the next gig was in Mackinac Island in Michigan. It didn't make sense to drive to Orlando, FL just to turn around and drive 24 hours back the way we came.
I hadn't seen my cousin in quite a while but I figured they wouldn't mind us dropping by. The guys were pretty unsure with visions of the movie "Deliverance" flashing through their minds as we drove off the paved part of the road as it turned to gravel past the 4-H camp, winding through the hollow, "are you sure you know where we're going", "your going to get us shot" and other words of worry from the guys.
We pull up to my cousins house and her husband, Sonny, was a BIG man, not a fat man, a BIG man. He was the captain of the barges traversing the mighty rivers of the nation. He greeted us with a shotgun and a "Who the hell are you?" The guys were about to shit themselves as I opened the door and jumped out, which the guys promptly shut and locked the door behind me.
"I'm you're cousin Luke from Florida",
"Sam's boy?"
"Yes sir"
"Who you got with ya?" as the guys are pressed up against the windshield still wondering if I'm about to get shot.
"The band"
"Well tell them to get on out here" and by now he's got my cousin adding to the morning coffee and a nice, big country breakfast.
I explain we're between gigs and were hoping to kill 3 days or so there, rehearse in the barn and breathe some fresh air.
That's where the "Sommer" in my name comes from. Southside, West Virginia. My dad was also born in a dirt floor shack up the Do-Da hollow. That's a whole other story.
I stopped at my cousins house first instead of going straight to the farm house because I didn't want to startle my aunt and uncle that early with company. That and I knew my cousin could hook us up with some weed.
My uncle Charles, Pete to the locals, was involved with the Elk"s, Moose and American Legion and he hooked us up playing for them.
It's very difficult to remember because of the large quantities of liquor they bought us. We had shots and beers on every available surface within arms reach of the band.
We were a "rock"band but I grew up playing country music and I gave the guys quite the introduction to "outlaw country" music that week. It came to serve us well as we occasionally would get booked at a Bob's Country Bunker(Blues Bros movie).
That was the second time I had visited my family in WV without mom and dad. The first time was after I had a run in with the Virginia State police. See "First Time Busted" on my blog.
My cousin Pam was a special person whom I will miss dearly. Not everyone would welcome a wild bunch of long hairs into their house at five o'clock in the morning. See you in the next life Pam! Peace and Love!
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