You know, I’m not a real emotional guy. But when I hear that Jason Aldean song, and I actually listen to the words, it kind of chokes me up.
He gets up before the dawn
Packs a lunch and a thermos full of coffee
It’s another day in the dusty haze
Those burnin’ rays are wearing down his body
That song carries so much emotion with it. Though it’s about a farmer, it reminds me of my dad. A man who worked his entire life. From a youth on the farm, to twenty years in the US Navy, thru multiple jobs after his retirement, to a water well business, and as the city superintendent until he died at the age of seventy-eight, he worked. He worked because that’s what he had to do. He worked for his family, to pay his bills, to have a home, to make a life, to be part of a community.
And diesel’s worth the price of gold
It’s the cheapest grain he’s ever sold
But he’s still holding on
That song reminds me of the folks I’ve grown up around, too. The true farmer who works from dawn to dusk and sometimes into the night when the land and the crops and the cattle demand it. The man or woman who carries such a heavy sense of responsibility and commitment that they just don’t know if they can squeeze out a few days for themselves – to get away, to relax, and to live a life without work.
He just takes the tractor another round
And pulls the plow across the ground
And sends up another prayer
It reminds me of people who put all they have into their dreams. They have staked everything. It’s all on the line. Not just for a moment, but every day. They wake up and go at it again, with worry in the back of their minds, knowing that one little thing can blow it all up.
He says, “Lord, I never complain, I never ask why
But please don’t let my dream to run dry
Underneath, underneath this Amarillo sky”
It’s a reminder of folks who have weathered the storm. The old men and women who I watched and respected. People who taught me so many lessons, not by lectures, but by the way they lived their lives. My cup was filled listening to their stories of adventures, misfortunes, and livelihoods over coffee, a glass of tea, or a beer; on porches, at the cafe, or leaning against an old grain truck. From the coal miners in Kentucky to the farmers in Oklahoma, they played a role in shaping who I am, what I think, and how I act. Just thinking about them – remembering their faces; remembering their knowing, ornery, wise, weathered, and wrinkled images – makes me smile. They live on in the memories they left with me.
That hailstorm back in ’83
Sure did take a toll on his family
But he stayed strong and carried on
Just like his dad and granddad did before him
It reminds me of people of faith. Of voices lifting a cappella to sing hymns in an old building on Pond Creek, that runs into the Tug Fork, along the line between Kentucky and West Virginia. It reminds me of revivals and singspirations in a small town church in the Panhandle. It reminds me that people dig deep and move forward, living in the faith that they will find a way, and that God will provide.
On his knees, every night he prays
“Please let my crops and children grow”
‘Cause that’s all he’s ever known
Yeah, there’s a lot in that song. And if I stop to listen, I can’t help but feel it.
He just takes the tractor another round
And pulls the plow across the ground
And sends up another prayer
He says, “Lord, I never complain, I never ask why
But please don’t let my dream run dry
Underneath, underneath this Amarillo sky”
And he takes the tractor another round
Another round, another round
And he takes the tractor another round
Another round
He says, “I never complain, I never ask why
But please don’t let my dreams run dry
Underneath, underneath this Amarillo sky”
Underneath this Amarillo sky
