Back when I was a very young man, in my teens actually, I was a hard-working lieutenant in the army of one Colonel Sanders. Yes, that Colonel Sanders. I was a Kentucky Fried Chicken cook, working to make sure the cholesterol levels of chicken-lovers everywhere were as high as they could possibly be. It was hot, hard, and fast-paced in the kitchen, but it was a fun job, and I made pretty good fun money.

One of the little things I did to pass the time, besides keep an eye on the cute cashiers, one of whom since became my wife of now thirty-two years, was sing old 60s and 70s Motown hits. From Sam Cooke to Aretha Franklin, and Smokey Robinson to James Brown. Oh, that James Brown. Man he had energy. It was his songs that really made the time fly while I was waiting for that 11 minute timer to buzz, telling me it was time to lock and load another double rack of extra-crispy chicken. I was young, and I felt good, to quote Mr. Brown. When I was singing James Brown, I could throw down with the best fry cooks anywhere, and the work shift passed faster than I could shred a chicken wing.

For this past year, for all the reasons of which we are all aware (and I refuse to use the term any longer, as I’ve turned that page) I haven’t felt all that good, James Brown’s encouragement not withstanding. From lockdowns and their stunning and unnecessary economic and personal impacts on once hard-working Americans who lost their small businesses, to the overly critical manner in which ordinary people now so freely critique their friends and neighbors over the individual choices made and to be made, this past year has felt very angry, and busybody-ish, if that’s a word.

Everything that my wife and I enjoyed prior to the shut-downs suddenly and almost without warning, came to a screeching halt. From dinners out and a game or two of bar trivia, to our cherished live country music concerts and our time dancing together to some oldies but goodies played by up and coming new local musicians. It was quite a shock to our lives, and, as we had only just made it to the empty-nest phase of our marriage with our youngest child off to college, a shock to our marriage in many ways. My wife is upbeat and optimistic by nature, and carried more than her share of the pick-me-up duties over this past year. I was more like that last, rotten potato you find when you buy the oversized 10lb bag and don’t eat them all fast enough. But instead of throwing me out, there were many times she cleaned me up and made pretty good potato salad.

I’m glad we held on and made it through, together.

Now that the country has turned the corner, and things have opened up again, my wife and I have restarted our past activities. We hit the bar trivia circuit last week for the first time in over a year. I knew things were back to normal when we didn’t win (came in 3rd), but had a great time over a couple drinks and laughs, just the same. We then ventured out to a live music performance by one of our favorite local musicians, who managed to somehow stay afloat despite the lack of open venues this past year. I even ordered fried chicken. It wasn’t the Colonel’s, but it was hot, greasy, fried to perfection, and I enjoyed every bite sitting next to my beautiful wife. It felt just like we used to do after both working a double shift in the service of the Colonel all those many years ago.

Although there were many times that I was unsure if these days would return, they are indeed back, and they are truly wonderful. As I used to sing, and as James Brown sang it best – “I feel good. I knew that I would.”

copyright (c) 2021 by D. James Clark, all rights reserved.