We are on the road now, two gigs into our July Texas tour. On our way to Texas, we always pass through the little cattle town of Dalhart, Texas. You know you are close about ten minutes out of town when you can start to smell the poopy cattle yards. It is hotter than hell in Texas right now (so I’ve heard, I’ve never actually been to hell) and I can’t think of any good reason to be stopping in Dalhart. But I always do. Dalhart has a place in my family’s history and every time I drive through, I stop and call my Dad and say, “Guess where I am?” Then we re-hash what happened in Dalhart and thank our lucky stars it did.
I will give you the short version of the story so that you can know for certain that Gypsy Thugness is a genetic condition I came by honestly and so that you can share the Thornberry Clan’s twisted affection for Dalhart.
My Dad had just graduated high school when he headed out on a summer road trip with two of his buddies. They were headed from Texas to California where my Dad’s parents were awaiting their visit. Not knowing how long their money for food would hold out, they brought along fishing poles and a 22 in case rounding up dinner on their own became a necessity. They were just outside of Dalhart one fine morning when they spotted some “chuckers”, which are an imported variation of the partridge that make delightful eating. They decided to capitalize on the situation and harvest a few. The friend named Buster (of course) launched a 22 assault at them for about ten minutes but to no avail. N’er a chucker did fall. My dad then said, “Gimme that gun, Buster. I’ll shoot ’em.” Buster proceeded to hand the rifle to my dad and somewhere in the exchange, in the front seat of the vehicle, the gun went off and fired a single bullet right through the middle of my dad’s foot.
The 3 teenagers raced Dad to the hospital in Dalhart where they waited waaaaaaaayyyyyy too long for an actual Dr. to make an appearance. The Dr. wanted to charge my Dad $75 to treat the gunshot wound, so my Dad did the obvious. He left. He got his boys to help him limp back to the truck and they started driving like bats out of hell. The were headed to the Naval Hospital in California, where my Dad knew he could be treated for free, since his Dad was in the Navy. They bought some alcohol and ice. They cleaned the wound at regular intervals and packed my Dad’s foot in ice, all the way to California. This seems like a straight up Gypsy Thug move to me, the whole getting shot and taking care of it yourself. What the heck? The details of their journey from Dalhart to California are a whoooole ‘nuther thuggy tale. You are going to want to go ahead and get Dad’s second book, “Dances With Turtles” to get in on those details. The best part of the story, the part of the s
tory that became a part of our Thornberry destiny was that when my Dad was convalescing on one foot, someone brought him a guitar. They said they thought maybe he was bored and might want something to do. He was so upset that the wound was going to ace him out of his hopes of a football career that he was insulted by the suggestion that he might want to learn to “play the guitar”. Nonetheless, boredom begat genius and he did pick that guitar up. Turns out, THIS was his destiny. In a stunningly short amount of time, he began writing his own songs and performing them. He enjoyed a fantastic career as a folk musician in the 70’s and has passed this legacy of music onto my brother and I and every single one of his grandchildren. If my Pa had not been shot in Dalhart, he may never have discovered his natural proclivity towards awesomeness as a musician. He would not have known what he had to pass down to us. I am so grateful for that gunshot that unlocked my destiny.
In the 90’s, my Dad’s music took a humorous turn. He began writing comedic music and has not stopped. In 1997,
he released his first comedic album, Lonesome In The Saddle, that featured show stopping titles like, Ode to Jenny Craig, I Know Victoria’s Secret, Hemorrhoids On My Heart From Loving You and so on and so forth. He plays to sold out crowds as folks seem not to be able to get enough of the ridiculous.
Dad is releasing a new album in the next month that is a long overdue follow up to Lonesome in the Saddle. This little gem features such titles as “Pissin’ Off PETA, Facebook Junkie and When Mama Passed Her Stone. I will make sure to let you know when it is available. If you are reading this blog, you’ll love it. 🙂
My Dad is a storyteller and that’s where I learned the craft. His life has taught me the value of music as a means of communication and the value of levity. He is my Gypsy Thug Dad and I’m so glad he got shot.
