I’ve got wood.
Randy Travis’ wood to be exact.
That’s right. I’m now the proud owner of several planks of wood from his old barn. And they say that there are 6 degrees of separation between any two people on earth. But all that separates Randy and me are several planks of wood and a small splinter I blame on him.
(And I guess there are also the 22 number one hits and 6 Grammys…)
They call this wood “repurposed.” That’s the politically correct term for “recycled.” People say “repurposed” so it doesn’t sound like they’re making stuff out of other people’s trash…which they are.
This wood has also been “reconditioned”, another step in the recycling process. I like that term, “reconditioned.” I feel like Randy might benefit from that word. Every time I see him I think, “reconditioned.” Has his hair been “reconditioned?” Can I help you “recondition” your Grammys?
It makes me wonder what kind of barn Randy Travis built. He’s a country guy with money so I can only assume he went all out.
Randy Travis barn of my imagination:
I’m also pretty sure he would have genetically engineered cows.
Randy Travis cow of my imagination:
So now I will take his wood and build something. And one evening, when the orange glow of the sun saturates the western sky, Randy will come. He will slip through the cornfield’s edge with a guitar slung over his shoulder. And with a child’s pride I will show him what I have built. And he will look upon it.
And he will probably leave disappointed.