my father died this morning...
his first his last
helicoptered to trauma center
his end begun
in 4 hours
eyewitnesses say he ran
a red light
in front of a semi
and the car drove half
a mile before resting inside
a wendy's on 25E
corbin, knox county,
march 2, 1934 to this morning,
november 18, 2011
i feel certain
he was listening
Thank you all so much for the outpouring of thoughts during this time. The family is deeply touched and your love is sincerely felt. As many of you have requested, there are 3 charitable foundations where donations can be sent. Get more information and donation details here.
Wayne is gone pt #1
Wayne Scott played country music. Wayne Scott sang country music, Wayne Scott wrote country music.
He came to the Sundown Stage on our farm in Overton County, Tennessee last summer. He played
music with his son Darrell and Kenny Malone. We did it Pizza tape style, without an audience (well just
us and very lucky drop ins), just cameras and audio tracks, just a few songs played all the way through.
Hillbillies and hippies working on something for no apparent reason, just because. He came here a couple
of times, and I’d sneak to the sun porch and sit next to him in a rocker and just talk. Wayne was from
Eastern Kentucky, up by Sommerset, he’d moved away for work and such as many had to, but with work
came music and he played it. He played it from Alaska to California and back to Kentucky, it was Bar
Room Gospel country, always a reference to whiskey or mother, in Wayne’s music, sooner or later, one
way or another, you were on your knees. He was one cool old guy, and I’ve know a lot of them, he was
sweet and flawed and slightly dangerous. Darrell watched him as he played, a serious mix of emotions on
his face. Wayne just played to the audience and in the end he thanked them both, “thank the two of ya”
he said, I think he’d used that line before.
Wayne's gone now, a few short months after we recorded him, a few short weeks
after his last visit here. He ran a light in front of a semi truck, it hit him and soon he
was no more. He left family and friends as we all must some day, he left good deeds,
sweet music and the quiet mistakes we all must leave. He grew a garden in his last
year, he visited sons, he made new friends. He played music on my stage because fate
decided he should. What is the measure of us all? Imperfect people in an imperfect
world. Have we stopped moving forward, have we given in to time, have we stopped
producing? Those are the sins of many, wasting time. As far as I’m concerned Wayne
worked it until the end, He displayed his heart for us, wore his best hat that he kept in
plastic when not on stage, and he played that Hummingbird Guitar...that Hummingbird.
Goodbye Wayne...you were one cool old dude.
"The road to Crane’s Nest, Kentucky, winds along the course of a rushing creek, flanked on one side by a steep hill and on the other by houses that are decorated in Christmas lights and plastic Nativity scenes. The sky is low and gray here this winter evening. It is a lonely and beautiful place, a forgotten community that has the notes of mountain sorrow and joy caught in the tree branches and the flow of the creek. In the big curve just past the New Bethel Church is Scott’s Branch, and just a ways up the holler is Wayne Scott’s cabin that sits five hundred feet from his birthplace..."
No Depression - read the rest of the article here!